#and the more light hearted stuff like this

[lymtw]

Sweetness

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

It's two in the morning when your eyes blink open from your very brief slumber. Your eyelids feel heavy as you hold them open, but it's nothing compared to the grip your strong craving for something sweet has on you. Toji's soft snores fill your ears, along with the rustling of the blanket as you flip over onto your other side to face him. You move slowly, careful not to make any disruptive movements.

Your vision is limited in the darkness of Toji's room, but the few minutes that you've been awake now has allowed your eyes to somewhat adjust. You can see how handsome he is, even while he sleeps. His lips form an involuntary pout, his dark eyelashes rest against the bags under his eyes. You don't feel as nervous to proceed with your plan of getting your early morning craving handled.

'He's not awake, he's not looking at you...' you think to yourself as you lean forward to press a light kiss on his cheek. Your heart stutters as you lean back to see if that did anything.

Nothing.

So, you go again, with less caution this time because he's in a deep sleep. You leave a few more kisses on his cheek, a couple on his chin, and then, one on the tip of his nose, before leaning back to see your progress. His quiet snoring has subsided, leaving only soft breaths to escape his nose.

You continue on with the soft butterfly kisses on his face. Your lips brush the point of his nose once more, and then you leave the ghost of a peck on his lips, before going to his cheek, again.

This time he hums, right before pulling you in and holding you like a bear protecting its cub.

"Toji," you whisper, tilting your head to try and look at him.

"Mm," he simply grunts, not opening his eyes.

"Can we go to the store?"

He sighs through his nose, a sound riddled with the sleep that held him just a couple minutes ago. "You sleep talking, baby?"

The thought makes a faint smile appear on his lips. You? Dreaming about going to the store with him? It's adorable.

"No, something sweet sounds really good right now. Like some fruit or... I don't know."

A soft hum is his initial response, before the fogginess of his sleep ridden brain clears a little more. "You can't wait a few more hours, doll? It's pretty early and you won't go back to sleep if we get you something sweet," he tries to reason.

He's right. The fact that you woke him up for this makes you feel a little guilty. "Oh... yeah. That's fine. I can wait," you mumble, ready to curl up and try to sleep off your want for something to snack on.

Now he feels guilty. You hardly ask him for anything, and though he feels strongly about you getting a consistent amount of sleep, he knows that it wouldn't kill him to let you have this.

A few seconds go by and you've settled in his arms, again. "Hey, baby," he calls, dragging his fingertips over your lower back. "Gimme a kiss." It's not a test or a way to persuade him. The delicacy of your sweet kisses is not to be taken for granted, but maybe it made him feel worse when you slowly scooted forward and met him halfway for a little peck. You didn't even hesitate to fulfill his request.

"Another one," he murmurs, allowing himself to be selfish with this seemingly endless fountain of your affection. Normally, you're hesitant or nervous, but with you being half asleep, you must not really be thinking about it. "One more," he hums, awaiting the feeling of your lips pressed on his, again. "Mm... that's good stuff, pretty baby. Always the sweetest thing for me, so I think..." he murmurs, his voice audible only between you and him, "...we should go get you something sweet, hm?"

"Are you sure? I really don't mind-"

He cuts you off with another chaste kiss. "I'm sure. You should wake me up like that all the time."

You laugh. "But I don't usually wake you up."

"Well, I like the way you did it just now. All kinds of soft. You wake me up like that and we can do whatever you want whenever you want."

"Okay, then," you agree.

"Put on the dress and we'll head out," he says, referring to his hoodie that you spent most of the night in before you climbed into bed with him. It looked like you were drowning in fabric and Toji was loving every minute of the view. The sleeves hid your hands, effortlessly, and the hem reached your thighs. It fit like a short dress on you.

Toji watches you after putting his shirt on, as you lift the almost heavy material over your head and pull it down, your arms not filling the sleeves once again and your shorts getting lost underneath the fabric. You pull the hood down and it sticks out behind you on its own.

"What?" You ask, in response to the smirk curled on his lips.

"You're not real," he says, stepping towards you. "You just get devoured by my hoodie." He tugs at the front a couple times, observing your face as it slowly deflates and presses against you again. "That's fucking precious."

You're speechless. Your cheeks feel like they've been scorched. You can still vividly feel the way he pulled on the front of the hoodie, gently grazing your stomach.

"I won't forget my sweater next time," you say, deflecting his affectionate words.

He sighs, heavy, pretending to be conflicted. "It'd be a shame if it just... I don't know, got lost when you thought you left it on my couch. Don't you think that would be so unfortunate, doll?"

You hum affirmatively, unable to suppress your grin at his mischievous plan.

"So, I think it's safer to leave your pretty sweaters at home and i'll keep you warm here. I'm doing a pretty good job so far, huh?" He says, letting his eyes roam over you from head to toe.

"Okay, fine," you agree, leaving the room with Toji to retrieve your shoes.

"Fine?" Toji says, entertained as he watches you float along in his enormous hoodie, towards the mat where your shoes and his shoes are. A low, amused chuckle leaves him as he slides into his slippers right beside you. "Sassy baby."

"What? I'm not sassy," you defend.

Toji loves how you look in this moment. Your tired eyes, the smallest, practically nonexistent tinge of hurt in your expression, like you can't stand the idea of being anything other than sweet to him. It's like he bopped you on the nose with a rolled up newspaper and called you a bad girl.

"Not often, but i've witnessed you in sassy mode a few times. You mimic people under your breath when they're being annoying, make a little face and everything."

You thought you were being sly, turned away from him each time you did it, too, but clearly you've underestimated how much of his attention goes to you.

"Oh," you utter, mildly embarrassed.

"It's funny," he says, reaching behind you to grab his keys from the hook they hang on. "You're still my sweet girl... even when you wake me up for snack runs." He mutters the last part, and grins when your expression goes guilty.

"We don't have to," you say, again, smiling softly to show that you really would be okay with him changing his mind and crawling back into bed.

"I'm just messing with you," he says, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "It's gonna cost you a kiss to get that door open, though."

You're tentative about the price. It's a trap. You know it, he knows it, even the walls know it.

"One kiss?" You ask, even when you see the deceit in his eyes and his sly smirk.

He nods. "Just one."

"Okay," you agree, voluntarily walking into that trap you had acknowledged.

The second you feel his arms around your waist, you know you were right. It starts out as promised, a single quick peck, but it quickly turns just as you thought it would. It's as if that single kiss activated his addiction, because one kiss turned to two, then three, until the fourth when you couldn't hold back your giddy giggles. You lean back, never really leaving the cage that is Toji, because he just leans forward and chases after more of your sweet kisses until you can't reciprocate them anymore, completely overtaken by his affectionate attack.

With a final elongated kiss, planted smack on your lips, he lets up and allows you to recompose yourself. It's one of his favorite things to do for a reason—you glow like the sun right in front of him, your unabashed laughter is fueled by something so pure and genuine. You know he's greedy with your affection, and yet you still take that chance every time he says "one kiss."

"W-Was that enough?" You tease, struggling to hold back your laugh.

"To open the door? Yeah. For me? Mm..." He smirks. "Not even close, doll."

So you do him one better, and stand on your tippy toes, a signal Toji picks up and acts on. He leans down again, doesn't cage you in this time, and waits. You close the distance between your lips and his, once more, holding it for a few seconds to ensure that your affection is properly sealed and felt by him. When those few seconds are up and your feet are flat on the ground again, you smile through the nerves. Your cheeks grow warmer as you wait for Toji to unfreeze and say something—anything.

"We're leaving, but when we come back, I want at least twenty more of those. Got it?" He says so seriously that anybody else would think he was scolding you for what you did.

"Got it," you respond, lips twitching amusedly.

"Alright, let's go," he says, nodding towards the door, feeling more motivated to get you that sweetness you craved than before.

[binmeister]

I love you.

The first time he said I love you

Saja boys x Reader (Separate)

Making up for the heart break 🫶 the way abby and jinu are my faves… but i write longer segments for the others…

CW: fluff, mostly mushy stuff - primarily gender neutral - not proofread

Jinu

Not the smoothest guy, are you?

He likes the way you laugh, the way you’re willing to mess with him when he pokes fun at you - the soft push and pull between you two that felt natural, like home. He likes the late night talks you guys have, either out on a walk enjoying the silence of the streets or moments like now where you’re laid side by side on his bed barely a hair away from each other staring at the ceiling and you don’t notice when his head has turned to watch you as you spoke - goofy grin on his face as he watches your face scrunch up whenever you recount something or the tilt in your lips as you let out an infectious laugh.

You were rambling about idol comebacks right now, both jumping into a detailed discussion on which group sounded good this time around and who could maybe try a different concept. You talked with your hands and he couldn’t help but laugh a little at how enthusiastic you were about the topic, pointing at his direction with your hands but not turning your head when you instructed him on what his group should totally try next comeback. The topic shifted again and it kept going around in circles where you’d start one, and then he’d continue, then he’d start a new topic, then you’d continue. It was comforting.

“I love you.” He blurts out, you’d both finished laughing at some dumb interaction you had at work that day and it made you both freeze up. Slowly you turned your head, realising he had been staring at you the entire time and his face was as surprised as you were. Like he didn’t expect himself to say it.

Another beat of silence. He’s about to stammer an apology and brush it off when you laugh again, chest feeling light as you roll onto your side and then flop your upper body on top of him. The last thing he saw was your big grin and then you buried your face into his chest, he looked down at you and was so caught off guard that he couldn’t help the nervous laugh that he let out as he realised he could feel the heat from your face on his chest. 

Then he hears it, the muffle of your voice as you reply to him.

“I love you too.” You had said into his chest before finally tilting your head up to look at him, he looked a mess with his face reddening by the second and then you’re both giggling like little kids that confessed to their school crush. It takes a couple minutes before you manage to poke fun at him again, making a comment as you poke his cheek. “You’re such a loser.”

“Oh, I’m the loser?” Jinu fakes offense as he raises an eyebrow, eyes crinkled a little as he calms down and he instinctively tilts his head into where your finger is prodding into his cheek then his arms finally shift to wrap around you. “Aren’t��you a loser for loving me?”

“Woah woah, chill out now. I might retract my statement.” You replied to his teasing and he feigned shock, like a scorned Victorian woman and you felt his hands squeeze your sides lightly as his voice lowered a little. “You wouldn’t.”

A sly expression slipped onto your face and before you could say you would, he shifted to hover over you, one hand moving up to cover your mouth as his other arm held his torso up - his turn now to have his upper body leant over yours and he smirked at how flabbergasted you now looked. “I’m not gonna let you.”

Then you licked his palm and he quickly removed his hand from your mouth as you started to giggle evilly at him, but you were silenced once again as he quickly shifted his head to press a brief kiss to your lips. And like that he’d backed off and started giggling as he got off the bed and started dodging your attempts at catching him.

“Hehehe.” 

Abs / Abby

Say it with your chest

He’s big, more muscle than man and knows he sometimes struggles with controlling his strength but you’ve never given him grief for it - never yelled at him for being too rough or how clumsy he could be given his stature. There’s something about the way you touch him like he’s fragile, like he could break if you’re not careful and it makes his stomach all fuzzy and his chest feel warm.

It was one of those times now where you’re both just hanging out in the guys’ apartment, laying on the living room floor and he’s got a little too much energy so he looks at you before lunging. Wrapping you up in a tight hug and rolling around with you in his playful attempt of a rough housing session, he’d never actually hurt you but he needed to get the cuteness aggression out. You’d smacked at his chest and his arms to get him to stop, complaints spilling out of your mouth in between all the giggles and gasps for air you let out and it made him melt. 

“Really? That’s all you got?” He exclaimed as he rolled you guys over for him to hover on top of you, an arm shifting to cage you in by your head as his other stayed wrapped around your waist - lifting your back slightly off the floor and you were still giggling at him. Another pathetic swat at his chest that barely felt like anything and then you’d reached up with a shaky hand to hold his cheek. The touch so light he could barely feel it and he leant his head into it, the warmth of your palm was so inviting.

“Y’know, I really love you.” Your eyes widened at his sudden confession as he looked down at you with a confident grin, boyish twinkle in his eyes as he expectantly looked at you for your response. You’d stammered and he wanted to devour you right then and there, head lowering enough so he can bump his nose against yours before he lifted himself up again. He wanted to hear you say it, say it with your chest that you loved him too.

“...love you....too..” He heard your soft voice and he feigned ignorance, squinting at you like he was hard of hearing as he watched your face scrunch up and your hands had shifted from him to shield your face. Or that’s what he thought til you smacked your cheeks and look at him with a determined expression.

“I love you!” You suddenly spoke at a much louder tone, not quite yelling but getting close to a shout with it and his eyes widened. Then he’s laughing. Eyes crinkling and he feels warm and giddy. You start laughing as well and then you feel his weight drop on top of you as his arm gives out from holding him up which makes you both start laughing harder. You managed to wriggle your arms free of his weight and he rolls to his side to free you, the arm still loosely under your waist stays in it’s place and you feel his hand squeeze your side gently.

“Now that’s what I like to hear.” He mused, head rested against the fluffy rug on the floor and you rolled your eyes a little at him. You’d shifted onto your side and reached your hands up to hold his face, cupping it like he was the most precious thing in the world and he can’t get that goofy grin off his face as you do then he’s shifting his head to press a kiss to one of your palms.

“Are you guys done?” Both of you froze, heads shifting slowly to see a very unimpressed Baby staring blankly at your tangled bodies on the living room floor, his eyes flicked from you guys to the TV before he continued on. “Controversial, I know, but this is a shared space.”

Mystery

He says it with his actions

He thinks he fell for you the day he had snapped and barked at you by mistake instead of Romance and instead of being scared or disturbed, you had let out a cute little snort that still plays in his head when he remembers the first time he met you.

“Nice to meet you too.” You had quipped as you looked at him with this mischievous glint in your eyes that made him falter, why did you seem different than the other humans he’s met? Romance was beside himself, absolutely folded over in laughter at what he witnessed and Jinu had arrived just to witness that last section of what had happened. He’d walked over and grabbed Mystery by the back of his neck and forced him into a 90 degree bow while apologising profusely to you. You laughed it off and said it was no biggie, thought it was a little funny and you hoped the guys had a good day.

He’d run into you again a few days later, gone on a walk to get away from the chaos that were his ‘demon bros’ as Abs liked to call them. You were in the park - same strip of bricked pavement where he had barked at you and it’s like you felt his gaze on you when you’d suddenly raised your head and looked at him. He saw the way you smiled, recognition evident on your face as you gave him a little wave. He waved back, smiling back at you and then felt a little tug at his heart as if telling him to go talk to you but he ended up ducking his head and continuing on with his walk.

Then he runs into you again another time. And again. And again. Actually he might have subconsciously been searching you out now that he thinks about it. But you don’t seem weirded out by the frequency that you’ve run into each other, rather you joke about it each time you bump into each other. 

“You sure you’re not stalking me?” You had said today as you run into the mysterious lavender haired guy for the umpteenth time in the last fortnight, you knew the coincidence of running into someone were low but never 0 so you just assumed it was crazy timing. Seeing as how you’d run into his two friends a few times as well, you just thought they must live around the area and like getting out. 

“I might be.” He joked. Your eyes widened a little and then it dawned on him that he’s never actually spoken to you during all of these brief encounters, normally just nodding at what you said or you’d both wave a small hello at eachother and then he sees your lips quirk up into a little smile. Like you found him cute.

“..guess I’m lucky then.” You’d said a little quieter, a bashful expression crossing your face as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. No further words were exchanged - unknowingly your feet synced up and the two of you were walking together for a while. Indulging in the comfortable silence and then you bid each other a farewell til the next time you’d meet.

It was like a silent agreement that you’d be together every time you ran into each other after that, taking a walk around the plaza and then on some days you’d extend the walk meter by meter til your encounters went from a short 15 minute walk to an hour or more of mindlessly walking about together side by side - a respectable distance between you two that steadily grew smaller over time. Exchanging short conversation here and there but mostly just enjoying each others quiet company. 

The pair of you were nearing the end of today’s walk, steps slowing down to preserve what time you had left and then when you’d returned to the plaza you started in you’d stood still in silence. Both not really wanting to go home just yet and as you were saying goodbye and turning to leave, you felt a clammy hand grab onto your wrist gently and then you turned to look at Mystery mouth agape as if he didn’t expect his body to move on it’s own. You couldn’t help the nervous giggle you let out as you relaxed a little, turning back around to face him and then he let his instincts kick in.

It was gentle, mostly, his teeth accidentally clinked against yours as he incorrectly guessed the distance between your faces and he’d pressed his mouth against yours for a brief moment. A quiet confession. Your face was heating up and you looked dazed at his actions and then you were smiling again, a little pep in your step as you two decided to extend your walk a little longer for the night.

Hands linked together this time.

Romance

Signs it in your notebook

He likes that he doesn’t have to keep up the pretence, doesn’t have to keep up the flirty persona at all times with you and it was oddly reassuring. You’d tagged along for a fan signing event that your friends were frothing at the mouth for and when they got a little too excited at getting signatures from the Saja boys; you’d bowed a little and explained that they were really big fans. He picked up on how you excluded yourself from that.

He spotted you again at another fan signing event they held, not really paying attention to anything that was happening on stage and trying your best to look like you were having fun whenever one of your friends whipped around to look at you all starry eyed. During some brief fan interaction it was you and your friends again that had managed to luck out, the group were all exchanging conversation with your friends and you had hung back a little. Clearly not wanting to engage but not wanting to seem rude so you’d respond if anyone directed their attention at you, but then you’d quickly shift the other guys’ focus back onto your friends.

It was his turn to talk to you as your friends had switched seats to now be in front of the other guys, you’d plopped down on the seat across from him and before he could even get a word out to him you rose a hand to get him to stop.

“Don’t worry about it.” You’d said simply, his brain short-circuited as he tried to piece together what you meant by that but you’d bowed a little to show your respect before your eyes shifted back to your friends to make sure they didn’t do anything in front of their idols that may warrant concern. 

..you didn’t want him to flirt with you? It clicked now, how he normally greeted his fans and how he had just greeted your friends prior. He couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at that but he eased up, opting to ask if you’d like to just chat then. You seemed surprised at that but you agreed, the two of you just conversing mindlessly.

He asked you about your friends, you explained they were both part of the ‘Pride’ (with finger quotations) and you just wanted to support them because they get nervous without someone around to back them up. He asked if you were part of the Pride and you shook your head no. That question became a frequent one between you two as he realised this would not be your last encounter at one of these fan signing events.

He was impressed with your friends dedication when he saw you again the third time, but realised it was a different group of friends you were with and it seemed like you were just the designated chaperone at this rate. You caught his eye and gave a guilty smile at his smirk. When it was your time in front of him again, he asked you again if you were part of the Pride yet and this time you shrugged. Progress. He liked that. You spoke again, conversation not really about the event anymore and instead a little more about yourself - your interests and what you both were going to do after the event was over and the a lotted 15 minutes was up just like that. You bowed at each other as you stood from your seat to go down the line and you continued to chat with his other group mates, while he was interacting with the next fan he couldn’t help the way his eyes would flick over to where you were.

“She’s really pretty.” This fan had whispered at him and he was surprised at that, it didn’t seem like this fan was mad about it and just told him that he should totally go for it if he wanted. He put on the flirty persona after that - a little embarrassed at how he got caught out being ‘unprofessional’ as Jinu would tell him but the event still went smoothly.

The fourth time he saw you in the crowd at their latest event, you were alone. No friends around you and when your eyes met he saw the way you froze like a deer in headlights and sheepishly waved at him. The same song and dance as you’re sat in front of him, this time you’ve brought your own notebook instead of the freebie poster handed out at the start of the event.

“So..?” He didn’t ask the question in full but you knew what he wanted, you laughed a little and nodded this time. “Yes, I  finally joined the pride.”

He liked the way you laughed, liked it so much that as he was signing your notebook he flicked a corner up to one of the back pages to leave a little note for you to find later. Then you two continued your usual conversation, getting to know each other in the time slot given and you were off again to get the others’ signatures and have your brief chats. You’d gotten home that night and were showing your friends your notebook on a video call when you noticed a corner of it had been folded back, as the others were gushing you flicked to the back of your notebook and saw in Romance’s pretty handwriting.

I think I love you, call me? xxx - xxx - xxx

Baby

Slips it into conversation casually

You’d ended up apart of the group at some point, it’s fuzzy that he can’t pinpoint when and why but you’d accidentally come across their demon identities and instead of snitching - you just shrugged and offered to teach them how to people better. Jinu was hesitant at first and then he witnessed a moment of Mystery chewing on the corner of the phone that he’d received and immediately folded at your offer. Easy to say that Mystery no longer chews on technology, when you’re present at least.

He’s intrigued by you, confused that you’re not annoyed at him when he seemingly isn’t paying full attention to you but then you explain that you know he’s listening: how his ears perk up a little and he’s less focused on whatever else he’s fidgeting with and how you notice the way he instinctively leans in a little when you start talking. He scoffed and tried to play it off, telling himself he hated that you caught him out but he can’t deny that fluttery feeling he had as you looked at him with that cute little knowing smile of yours.

There was a day you’d left earlier than normal, seemingly having dinner plans with your other human friends and Jinu let you off and the other guys all waved goodbye too. As soon as he was sure you were gone he had gone to invade the elder male’s room, thinking maybe he should ask him about the fluttery feeling because he’d rather Jinu know than Romance. One of them can keep secrets and one of them is a gossipy wench.

“Hey I, when I’m with [Name] my stomach feels like there’s like...” His brain was struggling to form words as he attempted to describe the sensation he had when he was with you, Jinu was patient as he let Baby try to process his thoughts into words and sat up a little straight to hear the younger man a bit better. “Like there's bugs in it.” Yeah.. that’s the phrase, bugs in the stomach. “What is that feeling?”

“You’re in love!” Before Jinu could even open his mouth to answer Baby’s question, Romance had exclaimed loudly behind him - hands clasps together as he cooed at the youngest member and started to make a whole song and dance over it. Baby didn’t even have a chance to lunge at him as Romance ran off to tell the ‘great news’ to Abby and Mystery. This was the most energy he’s shown in day to day life as he whipped around to chase after but then Jinu spoke and it made him freeze in his tracks.

“Well.. he’s technically not wrong.” Was the calm comment, he looked amused at Baby’s disgruntled expression before he continued on. “Love is pretty strong word but, you might have feelings for [Name].”

Both of his elder demons’ words echoed in his mind for the next few weeks. Lingering as he stared at you a little longer than usual and then when you asked if he was okay he just nodded dumbly, not really thinking it over too much. You didn’t pry further as you were busy trying to teach Mystery that  ‘yes you can say this, no you cannot growl or snap your teeth at them’ when he had asked you what was appropriate interactions with fans.

It was on his mind now as you turned to ask if Baby had any questions now that the taller male was done, he didn’t have nearly as many as Mystery did but he had a couple and then as you were answering whatever bullshit question he came up with he just.. slipped his confession in between it.

“Love you.” You paused and then blinked, opening your mouth and then closing it again as you tried to process what he just said. “Wait wh-”

“I love you.” He said it again, the same casualness as the first time that threw you for a loop as he proceeded to ask another question right after it - not giving you any time to recover because he was starting to get a little nervous about it. You answered  his question with a little shyness in your voice now, the confidence you usually had shaken up a little  as you tried to process the information he let slip.

As you were bidding them goodbye for the day, you paused as you walked by Baby before leaning in for a second to tell him something. His eyes widened a fraction and he tried to play it cool in front of the other members, as you rushed outright afterwards. He would rather die than let Romance know what you had quietly confessed to him on your way out.

“I love you too, Baby.”

[inseobts]

Ink & Memories

law x fem!reader

you’re his ex tattoo artist and girlfriend, so what happens when you meet him again years later?

a/n: this was suggested by someone, I don't remember if it was anon or not but if you're reading this THANK YOU omg

words count: 5.2k

tags: MDNI, smut, ex-lovers, reunion, tattoo artist reader, angst with fluff

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sea breeze brushes against your cheek as you lean against the doorframe of your tattoo shop, a cup of tea in hand. It’s been a slow day. Not many people walk into a tattoo shop in a port like this. Not unless they’ve just won a bet or lost a bet.

You sip your drink and glance toward the docks, bored. Then your eyes freeze... No way.

You squint.

Tall man, black hat with white spots, fluffy. That long coat, that walk... You drop the cup. It hits the ground with a soft clink.

“Law??” you call out, loud and without thinking.

The man stops. The whole crew turns around.

Your heart skips.

It is him.

He turns, slowly, eyes locking with yours.

“Y/N…” he says. Low. Surprised.

You can’t help but grin.

You step closer “Oh my god... how are you?? I’ve seen you on the news so many times. You’re a warlord now?! I never thought I’d see you again.”

He doesn’t smile, but his eyes soften. You recognize that look. He remembers.

His crew is staring now.

One with goggles leans over to the bear in a hoodie.

“Who’s that?” he whispers.

The polar bear shrugs “Dunno. But she knows the captain.”

You glance at them and chuckle.

Law still says nothing. He looks like he’s thinking too hard, jaw tight. Typical.

You roll your eyes “Right. You’re not gonna say it, huh?”

You take a step forward, hand on your hip.

“I’m Y/N,” you say, loud enough for the whole crew to hear “I used to be Law’s girlfriend. And I’m his first tattoo artist.”

Gasps. Real ones.

“WHAAAT??”

“EX-girlfriend?!”

“Tattoo artist?! So she did those?!”

“Wait, he has tattoos??”

“He let someone touch him?!”

Even the bear goes shocked.

Law sighs and rubs the back of his neck “You still talk too much, Y/N.”

You laugh “And you still say nothing at all.”

You grin “You’re really here, huh? After all these years.”

You walk with the crew through the market near the docks. Law’s beside you quiet, as always, but his steps match yours. The others keep throwing you glances like you’re some kind of rare animal.

The tall one with goggles Shachi, you think his name is, can’t hold it in anymore.

“So, wait. You’re the one who did the tattoos on the Captain?”

“Yup” you nod.

“ALL of them?”

“I guess. I don't know if he had another tattoo artist later.”

"I didn't." he says and only you seems to hear it.

“Even the ones on his fingers? And the arms??”

You smirk “I’ve touched more of your captain than all of you combined.”

“WHA—” They all choke.

Law sighs again, rubbing his temples “Y/N…”

“I’m just saying facts, Law.”

You keep walking, passing a fruit stand. Penguin, the one with the hat, nudges you “So… you really dated him?”

You shrug “Yeah. For a while. Before he was famous. Before the crew.”

Bepo tilts his head “Why’d you break up?”

You pause “Life stuff. Timing. Goals. Pirates and tattoo shops don’t mix well.”

Shachi whistles “Man, that’s wild. I still can’t picture him dating someone.”

“I didn’t believe it either at first,” you say, smiling to yourself “He’s... complicated.”

Then Penguin says, “I bet the one on the chest hurt the most though, right Captain?”

Your body goes still.

Law stops walking too. You both freeze at the same time.

Your mind doesn’t ask permission... it just goes.

Flashback. Your tattoo studio, late at night. Warm orange light. Law’s shirt is off. He sits on the tattoo chair, toned chest exposed, calm as ever. “I want the next one here.” he says, touching the center of his chest. You arch a brow “You sure?” He nods once “Yeah.” You bite your lip. You two are already a thing now, nights together, kisses stolen in your shop, your toothbrush next to his blades. But this feels more...intimate. “Alright,” you whisper, clicking your tattoo pen on “Then let’s make it count.” You don’t sit on the stool. You don’t ask for permission. You straddle him. Right on his lap. His eyes widen, just slightly. His hands go to your waist, not pushing you away, just resting there, tight. “This okay?” you ask, fake-innocent. He grits his teeth “Tch. You know it is.” You smile and lower the needle to his chest. You work slowly, carefully, your hips close to his, your breath brushing his face. His jaw clenches. You can feel how tense he is... but he doesn’t flinch. Not from pain. No... It’s because of you. By the time the ink is done, you’ve forgotten what hurts more, his grip on your thighs or your own heartbeat. And after that... Well, let’s just say he didn’t get up from the chair right away.

Back to now.

You blink. Snap out of it.

Your face is hot. Lips tight. Brows furrowed.

You glance at Law. He’s not looking at you.

But his face?

Same.

Jaw clenched. Eyes distant. Tension written all over his shoulders.

You both remembered. You know it.

Shachi whistles “...Why do you both look like you smelled something cursed?”

Bepo tilts his head “Are you okay?”

You wave it off “Fine. Just, uh, a memory.”

Law doesn’t say a word. He just keeps walking, hands in pockets, eyes forward.

But you see the small twitch at the corner of his mouth.

And it’s driving you insane.

You’re still walking with the crew, but the energy is weird now. Like a storm’s rolling in, just under your skin.

The others keep chatting and asking questions, but your brain keeps stuttering... stuck between now and then.

“Captain doesn’t talk much about his past,” Penguin says, chewing on some weird fruit he picked up “It’s kinda cool hearing this stuff. Makes him seem more human.”

“He is human...” you say without thinking.

Shachi chuckles “You sure about that? I saw him take out ten guys with one swing of his sword.”

Bepo grins “By the way, did you start with the ones on his arms first?”

You hum “Arms first. Then the fingers. Then chest. Then—”

You stop. Too late.

“Then?” Shachi raises his brows.

You bite your lip “Forget it.”

“Nooo, don’t do that,” Penguin whines “We wanna hear!”

You sigh “Fine. The weirdest one was... the one on his back.”

That shuts them up.

“His back?!”

“Where on his back??”

“Wait, why "weirdest"??”

“Dude, that must’ve hurt so bad!”

You shrug “He didn’t complain.”

But your voice is quieter now.

Flashback. Another night. Another quiet request. “I want something here.” Law says, pulling off his shirt and turning away. His back is smooth, pale, all muscle and scars. But bare. “You want... a tattoo on your back?” He nods once “Yeah. I already have something in mind.” You stare at him for a moment “You sure?” He doesn’t answer. He just sits. Waiting. You prepare the tools. The ink. The stencil. But as you move behind him, he grabs your wrist. Pulls you around. Suddenly, you’re in his lap. Again. You blink at him “This how we’re doing tattoos now?” His lips twitch into a rare smile “Only when it’s you.” His voice is low. Dangerous. The kind of sound that always melts your brain. You start the needle, shaking a little “Well, too bad I can't tattoo your back from here.” “Try your best.” You laugh but then you stand and go to his back. The tattoo is slow. Intimate. You’re touching his back delicately even for a tattoo, and every move you make makes him breathe harder, even more when you randomly leave kisses on his bare skin where the ink hasn't reavhed yet. By the time the tattoo is halfway done, his hands are on your waist again, but this time... tighter. “You gonna finish it?” he asks, voice husky. You kiss him instead. You never finish the tattoo that night.

Back to now.

Your face is boiling. You know it. You can feel it. And when you dare to glance at Law, you regret everything.

He looks just like he did after the flashback from earlier.

Tense. Focused. Eyes darker than usual.

And you know he remembered that too.

You inhale sharply and shake it off “Well... sorry to cut this short, but I gotta head back. I have a client in fifteen minutes.”

“FIFTEEN??” Bepo looks horrified “That’s not enough time to say goodbye!”

“We just met! I want to talk more!!” Penguin adds, actually pouting.

“We should do dinner!” Shachi suggests “Or drinks! Or matching tattoos for my birthday...”

“I don’t even know your birthday,” you laugh, trying to hide the heaviness in your chest “You guys are too much. But I had a lot of fun. Thank you for taking care of Law.”

"He's the one who takes care of us."

"Yeah, I don't think so..."

You turn to Law, slower than you mean to.

He’s just standing there. Watching you. Hands in his pockets. Saying nothing.

So, of course, you have to fill the silence.

“Hey.” You meet his eyes.

“If you ever want a new tattoo... my shop’s always open for you.” You smile, but it’s faint “Even after closing time.”

Something flickers in his eyes. But still, he doesn’t say a word.

You wave at the crew, who’s already acting like they’ve known you for twenty years and are sending you off to war.

“Bye, guys. Keep taking care of him, alright?”

They all yell goodbyes and promises and dramatic sobs.

You walk away before your voice cracks.

Back in your shop, the silence is loud.

You lean against your work table, staring at your equipment. The ink. The gloves. The chair.

All the places he’s been.

You try to shake the feeling. But it’s hard. Because you didn’t stop loving him. You just... couldn’t keep up with his world.

Now he’s bigger than life. Famous. Feared. A pirate captain.

And you’re just a tattoo artist in a tiny port town.

So no... you don’t think he’ll come tonight.

He’s got his crew. His ship. His missions.

He probably doesn’t love you anymore.

You sit down and try not to cry.

Your client leaves right on time.

A small anchor tattoo. Nothing fancy. Nothing meaningful. But you smile and treat them with care, because that’s what you do.

Still, when they leave, the shop feels colder.

You sweep the floor. Clean your tools. Wipe the chair down like muscle memory. Then you sit behind the counter.

And wait.

It’s not like you said he had to come. You just offered.

“My shop’s always open for you. Even after closing time.”

You curse under your breath, hand to your face.

Why did you say it like that? Like you were waiting? Like you were... still his?

You glance at the clock.

One hour after closing.

Two.

Then three.

You haven’t moved.

The lights are still on. The “closed” sign hangs crooked on the door. You’ve been telling yourself it’s just so you can finish cleaning.

But everything is already clean.

The tea you made went cold. The silence is suffocating.

Your heart keeps lying to you, saying he might come, even when your brain knows better.

You sit on your stool behind the counter and bury your face in your hands.

You shouldn’t have said anything.

Of course he doesn’t love you anymore. You’re just someone from his past. A memory with a needle. He’s a warlord now. A captain. A living legend.

And you?

You’re no one special. You gave him your love, your ink, your body... But that was years ago.

You sniff, blinking back tears.

“I’m so stupid.” you whisper.

Finally, with a broken breath, you stand.

You walk toward the light switch, hand reaching up, about to turn it off—

Knock. Knock.

You freeze.

Two slow knocks.

You turn, heart racing, and rush to the door.

Your hand trembles as you grab the handle, barely able to breathe.

You open it... Law.

He’s standing there. Alone.

Hat in place, coat unbuttoned just slightly. His eyes are shadowed, unreadable, but he’s here.

He looks at you and you stare back, lips parted, words stuck in your throat.

Neither of you says anything for a second.

Then you whisper, almost scared to believe it “You came.”

He nods once “...Yeah.”

You step aside and let him in. The door swings shut behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet shop.

He stands there, looking around like it hasn’t changed at all. Like it’s frozen in time.

Maybe it is.

You tuck your hair behind your ear, trying to calm your racing heart “So… what brings you here? Need something fixed?”

He shakes his head once “I want a new one.”

You blink “A new tattoo?”

“Yeah.”

You tilt your head, cautious “Where?”

He undoes the top few buttons of his shirt and pulls the fabric aside. Just a little.

There’s a small space on the upper right of his chest. A rare untouched spot surrounded by old ink.

He taps it once “Here.”

Your stomach flips. That chest. You remember how you inked the one beside it. How that ended.

Your cheeks warm, but you clear your throat and nod “Okay. Small tattoo. Got it.”

You turn away to gather your tools, gloves, ink, paper towels, anything to keep your hands from shaking.

It’s stupid, how nervous you are. You’ve tattooed him dozens of times before.

But it wasn’t like this. Not after years apart. Not after you thought you’d never see him again.

Not when your heart feels this fragile.

You pause mid-step and glance at him “Where’s your crew, by the way?”

He raises an eyebrow “You really asking that?”

You blink. Then scoff softly, rolling your eyes “Right. Dumb question.”

You gesture to the chair “You can sit.”

He does.

You sit across from him on your work stool, setting the needle up with focus, breathing slow.

It’s fine. You can do this. No reason to be—

“Room.”

Your body jolts at the word. You barely have time to process it before your whole world shifts, literally.

Suddenly, you’re on his lap. Sitting. Facing him. Just like before.

Your breath catches “Law!”

He doesn’t say anything. His arms are relaxed around your waist. Like this is normal.

But what’s not normal is the firm pressure you feel beneath you. Hard. Hot.

Pressed right against the center of your lower body.

Your breath hitches.

You shift instinctively, but that only makes it worse.

You feel him now. All of him.

...And he’s definitely not unaffected.

He looks up at you, still unreadable. But his eyes… they burn.

You’re quiet for a beat. Your heart pounding so hard it hurts.

You whisper, “...You planned this, didn’t you?”

His voice is low. Calm. Dangerous.

“Maybe.”

Your breath trembles as you sit frozen on his lap, the familiar weight of him under you making it harder to think. To breathe.

Your hands are still gloved. The needle sits ready on the tray.

But the moment is not about the tattoo anymore.

It’s the way he’s looking at you.

Like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. Like he never stopped seeing you.

You can feel his heart beating through his chest, right beneath yours. Steady. But faster than usual.

"...You’re hard..." you whisper, like it’s a secret.

His gaze doesn’t waver “You’re sitting on me.”

Your face heats instantly “You put me here!”

“You didn’t get off.”

You open your mouth to snap back, but nothing comes out, because he’s right. You haven’t moved.

Your thighs tighten slightly, and he notices.

His hands slide up your hips, slow and patient, like he’s remembering every curve from memory. Like no time has passed.

But it has... So much time.

And still, here you are.

You try to hold onto your pride “This is just for the tattoo, right?”

His voice is quieter now “You really asking that?”

You breathe in sharply.

Your eyes drop to his chest, to the small space he said he wanted inked. Your fingers hover near it.

And just like that...

Flashback. Another time. Another tattoo. You straddled his lap, shirt slightly unbuttoned, hands shaking as you prepped the needle. “I shouldn’t do this, it's not professional.” you said then, voice soft, unsure “We’ll mess everything up.” He looked up at you, calm as ever “We’re already messed up.” You remember how his hands gripped your thighs, how you pressed the needle to his chest anyway. You never finished the tattoo. You didn’t even get halfway before he pulled you down, kissing you like it was the last time. And then...

Back to now.

You blink hard, ripping yourself away from the memory.

Your hand clenches the tattoo machine, but you can’t lift it. Not like this.

“Law…”

Your voice is smaller now. Scared, almost.

He tilts his head slightly, watching you “You think I forgot?”

Your chest tightens “...I hoped you didn’t.”

He exhales slowly “I didn’t come here for a tattoo, Y/N.”

Your heart jumps in your throat “Then why?”

He doesn’t say anything at first. His fingers ghost over your back “What do you think? Because you said the shop was open. Even after closing.”

You’re quiet. Shaking. Overwhelmed.

You look at him, searching for anything in his face that’ll tell you this is real.

“You still love me?” you ask, barely a whisper.

He answers without hesitation “Yes.”

And then, like gravity finally wins, you lean in. Your lips meet his in a slow, aching kiss.

Soft at first. Scared. But it deepens fast.

His hands tighten around you, pulling you closer. You shift again on his lap, and he groans against your mouth.

Everything is heat now. Want. Memory. Regret. And something new, something breaking free after years of silence.

You break the kiss just to breathe, lips brushing his as you whisper “Forget the tattoo.”

His voice is rough “Already did.”

You don’t know who kisses harder first.

You or him.

But once your mouths meet again, there’s no stopping it.

Years of silence, of pretending to forget, all burn away in the space between your lips. Your hands are in his hair before you even realize it, his hat falling to the floor like nothing else matters.

Law’s hands are steady, skilled, familiar while they slide down your back and grip your thighs, pulling you tighter against him. His lips are rough, needy. He kisses like he’s punishing you for the time lost, or maybe for letting him go.

You grind down instinctively, and he groans into your mouth deep, guttural, raw.

“Fuck...” he mutters against your lips, his voice wrecked.

“You remember everything, don’t you?” you whisper, breathless, tugging at his shirt “All of it.”

He nods once “Every goddamn second.”

You roll your hips again and feel it even better now, how hard he is. Pressed exactly where you need him, only the thin barrier of your clothes separating you.

“You didn’t even come for the tattoo, did you?” you tease, lips brushing his jaw now.

“No,” he breathes, tilting his head to give you his neck “I came for you.”

Your fingers fumble with his buttons, heart racing, hands shaking.

He notices. He always does.

“You sure?” he asks lowly, grabbing your wrists and holding them still.

You nod “Yes.”

But he doesn’t move yet, he just looks at you “Say it.”

You meet his gaze “I want you.”

That’s all he needs.

In one swift move, he lifts you up and lays you back on the padded tattoo chair like you weigh nothing. He climbs over you, hands everywhere now... pulling, unzipping, stripping.

Your shirt goes first. Then your bra. Then his coat and shirt.

Skin to skin.

It’s overwhelming how good he looks. Tattoos, scars, the memory of every moment you ever loved him mapped across his chest.

You run your hands over his chest, over the ink you gave him “Still mine...” you whisper.

His eyes darken “Always.”

He pulls your pants down, slow at first, until your soaked panties are the only thing left. He groans when he sees the wet patch. His thumb brushes it, just barely.

“You’re already this wet?” he murmurs, kissing your stomach “From just sitting on my lap?”

“From you,” you breathe, squirming under him "And you got hard as soon as you set on the chair."

He hooks his fingers into your panties, dragging them down agonizingly slow.

And then his mouth replaces his hands.

He kisses between your thighs like he’s missed every part of you. His tongue strokes through your folds, hot and slow, making your back arch and your fingers clutch the chair.

“Fuck, Law!”

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t speak. Just moans into you, like the taste of you is better than revenge, better than glory, better than everything.

When you finally come, it’s with your hand tangled in his hair and his name gasped like a prayer.

And even then, he doesn’t stop.

He only pulls back once he’s sure your legs are shaking.

You’re breathless, eyes hazy “You always did that too well.”

He smirks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand “You always tast the same.”

He undoes his belt, his pants, and pulls himself out, hard, thick, aching. You swallow hard just looking at him.

“Still want me?” he asks, eyes locked on yours.

“More than anything.”

He doesn’t give you time to second-guess.

He lines himself up, grabs your waist, and slides inside slowly but fully. Stretching you. Filling you.

You gasp. Your nails dig into his back.

“Fuck, you feel the same,” he breathes, forehead resting against yours “Perfect.”

You moan, wrapping your legs around him, rolling your hips “Move, Law. Please.”

And when he does... it’s everything.

He moves deep, slow, like he’s savoring it. His pace is controlled, his breathing heavy, his grip tight. He fucks you like he’s reclaiming something lost. Like you’re not just a body. Like you’re home.

Your moans echo through the shop. The chair creaks beneath you. His mouth finds your neck, your chest, your lips again, every part of you worshiped, touched like it’s sacred.

And then you both fall apart again, louder, harder, more desperate, but in each other’s arms, skin to skin, hearts racing.

You stay wrapped around him, chests heaving, breath tangled.

Neither of you speaks for a long time.

Still inside you, forehead resting against yours, he murmurs “Didn’t think I’d actually come after closing time, did you?”

You lie there on the tattoo chair, skin still hot, your breath finally starting to slow. His chest rises and falls against yours, calm, steady, like the chaos just passed through and left everything too quiet in its wake.

Neither of you moves yet.

"I was actually about to turn off the lights when you knocked at the door..."

His hand rests gently on your hip, thumb brushing lazy circles into your skin. Your cheek presses against his shoulder, and for a moment… it feels like nothing’s changed. Like you’re back in that messy little house, tangled in each other’s limbs, whispering about a future you thought you’d have.

And then he says it, low and smooth, voice still wrecked from everything you just did “You really never finished any of my tattoos in one setting...”

You laugh, soft and breathless “As if it's not always your fault.”

He doesn’t reply. But the smirk you feel against your skin is answer enough.

You close your eyes, letting yourself feel it for just a second longer, the warmth, the weight of him, the comfort that never really left.

But then…

Reality creeps back in.

And with it, the ache in your chest you were trying to ignore.

Your voice is smaller when you speak again. Barely more than a whisper.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have done it.”

You feel him tense slightly. Not pull away, but freeze.

“…Why?”

You swallow hard, suddenly hating the silence in the shop “Because you're gonna leave again. Probably tomorrow. Or tonight. And I’ll be here. Just like last time.”

He lifts his head, looking down at you now. You don’t meet his eyes.

“I told myself I moved on,” you continue, voice shaking “That it didn’t hurt anymore. But seeing you again... being with you like this…”

You pause, forcing down the tears that want to surface.

“It hurts worse now.”

Law says nothing for a moment. But you feel his hand slide up to your cheek, thumb brushing just beneath your eye.

Then his voice comes, quieter than you’ve ever heard it “It wasn’t just sex for me.”

Your heart twists.

“You think I don’t feel the same?” he continues “You think this didn’t wreck me too?”

You finally look at him. And his eyes… They’re full of that same pain you’ve been carrying. That same longing. The same love.

But his voice still carries that signature Law calm, controlled, composed, even as something inside him breaks.

“I’m a pirate, Y/N.” He swallows “I don’t get to stay anywhere.”

You nod slowly, even though it hurts “I know.”

He presses his forehead to yours.

“And still...” he whispers “Here I am.”

You don’t say anything as he starts getting dressed. You just… watch.

You sit silently on the edge of the tattoo chair, still naked, still warm from his touch, but already feeling the cold creeping in. His back is to you as he buttons his shirt, and you drink in every detail. The way his shoulders move. The curve of his spine. The black of his tattoos against skin you once knew like a map.

You try to memorize him.

Every second.

Every inch.

Because in your heart, something whispers: This might be the last time.

And that’s when it hits you.

How foolish you’ve been. How stupidly hopeful. How desperate you are just to keep a piece of him.

Your eyes sting.

No. Not now. Not in front of him.

You stand abruptly, grabbing your robe, and mumble something you don’t even hear yourself. Before he can turn, before he can ask, you rush past him and slam the bathroom door shut behind you.

You lock it.

Your hands are trembling.

And outside... silence.

He doesn’t knock.

He doesn’t follow.

He doesn’t stop you.

Then you hear the sound of the front door. Open... and close.

He’s gone.

And you break.

You slide down the wall, burying your face in your arms as the sobs finally come out, sharp and raw. It’s not just pain, it’s years of missing him, of pretending you moved on, of wishing things could be different.

And now… it’s too late.

Minutes pass. Or maybe more. Time blurs.

Eventually, when your breathing steadies and your heart stops clawing out of your chest, you pull yourself up. Wipe your face. You don’t look in the mirror, you can’t.

You exit the bathroom slowly.

The shop is too quiet. The lights still hum overhead. The tattoo machine sits untouched, ready for a session that never happened.

You walk over to turn the CLOSED sign on the door. There’s no point pretending today’s a workday. Not like you had any clients booked anyway.

Your eyes flick to the chair.

The same one where hours ago, he made you feel like everything again.

There’s something sitting on it.

You freeze.

It’s a folded piece of paper. Your name written across the front in that neat, sharp handwriting you’d recognize anywhere.

Your fingers shake as you open it.

You read:

"Y/N,

You never talked about being a pirate. Never thought about leaving. I get it. You’re not like me. But then, I heard you telling the crew that you had no clients. No fun. That this place bored you. Then you said you didn’t want me to go.

And I don’t want to leave you behind… again.

So what if I make room for you on my ship?

Will you come?

Will you choose to be a pirate now?

My ship’s always open for you. Even after closing time.

But if this is a goodbye, then let me tell you that I love you and than I'll cheer on you even from the other side of the world.

I just want you to be happy, forever.

—Law"

Your breath catches.

The paper trembles in your hands.

You don’t know if you want to cry again or scream or run out the door barefoot. But one thing is clear, your heart is racing with something new.

Hope.

You don’t hesitate. Grabbing your coat and a small bag, you race out the door, the note still folded in your hand. The night air is cool, but your heart is burning. You know exactly where to go... the docks, where Law’s ship is waiting, dark and quiet under the moonlight.

The night air is crisp as you hurry toward the docks, the note from Law folded tightly in your hand. Your heart pounds, not just from the run, but from the rush of hope and fear tangled in your chest.

The ship sits dark and quiet under the stars, its silhouette a familiar yet strange reminder of a life you never thought you’d be part of.

A single figure leans against the railing, head tilted slightly as if listening to the sea’s whispered secrets.

“Law...” you call softly.

He turns, eyes sharp and unreadable for a split second before softening.

“You came.”

You nod, voice catching on the breeze “You asked if I’d come. So... here I am.”

The distance between you closes, and for a long moment, it’s just you two, breathing the salty air, wrapped in something fragile and strong all at once.

His hand finds yours, fingers curling gently. The electricity between you hums quietly, charged but patient.

He leans in, voice low and teasing, “Still keeping me after closing time, huh?”

You smirk, heart fluttering “Seems like it's your turn now.”

No rush for anything more. No need. This moment is a promise whispered in the dark, full of all the things you left unsaid.

Morning breaks with the chaotic roar of the crew... shouts, laughter, boots pounding on deck, and the unmistakable scent of cooking fires.

You stand just inside the galley doorway, nerves fluttering like a storm in your stomach. The crew buzzes around, eyes flicking toward you, then back at Law, then doing double-takes.

“Wait, is that—?” one mutters.

“No way...” another says, rubbing his eyes.

The captain clears his throat, voice sharp “Well?”

You swallow and step forward, heart pounding.

“I’m with the crew now.” you say quietly, glancing at Law. He gives you a small nod.

Silence.

Then the flood.

“You’re part of the crew?!”

“You didn’t tell us!”

“When did this happen?”

You grin nervouslyand then, half-jokingly “Wait… I don’t have to wear the uniform, right?”

The entire crew bursts out laughing but before anyone can answer, Law’s voice cuts through “No.”

The room freezes.

“What?!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Everyone but Captain has to wear it!”

Everyone glares playfully at Law, who crosses his arms with that signature smirk.

“Rules apply to everyone,” he says smoothly “... everyone but her.”

You chuckle, watching the crew bicker back and forth while Law’s eyes lock on yours with a mix of amusement and something softer, deeper.

Despite the noise, the laughter, and the mess of new beginnings, you feel it clearly...

This chaotic, wild crew, this life, this man...

It’s home now.

[lonerslug]

Hello, I hope you are having a good day! :) Could you write about a touch starved reader who’s Sevika’s roommate who Sev comforts and holds to make them feel better? <3 I love your fics

a/n: okay… so i suppose this is fluff right? i live for it 😙

You don’t mean to wake her.

The couch creaks as you shift, blinking through the sting behind your eyes. You’d been trying to sleep. God, really trying, but sometimes the silence feels so loud it drowns you. You miss the weight of someone beside you. A hug. A hand on your back. Someone who notices when you go too quiet and too still and don’t eat anything all day.

So you’d wandered out to the living room, hoping maybe sitting near her door might be enough.

Apparently not.

A soft grunt comes from the hallway. Then her voice, gravelly, low, half-asleep,

“…You good?”

You suck in a breath, panic bristling under your skin. You hadn’t wanted to bother her. Not her. Not Sevika, who works twelve-hour shifts, who keeps her hair tied back with a twist of elastic and lets her coffee go cold while fixing other people’s messes. She’s all solid muscle and tired eyes and you’ve never, ever seen her cry.

“I’m fine,” you say too fast. “Sorry. I was just, couldn’t sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

There’s a beat of silence. You hear her door open. Then soft, padded footsteps across the wooden floor.

She stops a few feet away. You look up at her, blinking under the dim light of the kitchen.

She’s in a black tank top and gray boxers, her scarred arm bare in the warm low light. Her hair’s down, messy waves brushing her shoulders. She looks tired. But not annoyed.

“…You been crying?” she asks, voice quieter now.

Your throat clenches.

“No.”

Sevika looks at you. The way she always does, like she sees more than you want her to. Then she sighs and comes over, sitting heavily beside you on the couch. Her broad thigh presses into yours, warm and solid.

You freeze up.

Then, gently, slowly, she lifts her arm and sets it behind you on the couch cushion, not touching you yet.

“I won’t do anything if you don’t want me to,” she murmurs, not looking at you. “But if you… need something. You can ask.”

Your hands ball into fists in your lap. Shame crawls up your neck, hot and itchy.

“I don’t wanna be weird,” you whisper.

She huffs softly through her nose. A quiet sound, not mocking.

“It’s not weird.”

“…You want a hug?”

Your heart lurches. No one has asked you that in months. maybe a year, yeah a year. You nod before your voice can catch up.

Sevika shifts, arm wrapping slowly around your back, her hand resting on your waist. She pulls you in, tugging gently until you’re folded into her side, head on her shoulder.

Your breath shudders.

She holds you like it’s easy. Like she doesn’t mind. Like she’s done this before, even if she hasn’t.

You close your eyes. It takes every bit of control you have not to cry into her shirt. She’s warm, and smells like clean laundry and faint smoke, and her hand strokes slowly up and down your side like she knows what you need without needing to ask.

“Shit,” you mumble. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologising,” she murmurs. “You’re okay.”

You nod, swallowing hard. It’s quiet again. But this time, not loud. Not empty. Her voice breaks it just once,

“You could’ve asked sooner.”

Your lips twitch against her shoulder. “Didn’t know if I could.”

She snorts. “I’m not good at this shit. But… you live with me. You can always ask.”

You finally let your body relax into hers.

And for the first time in too long, you feel safe enough to fall asleep like that, pressed to her side, wrapped in her arm, held like maybe you’re not too much after all.

taglist: @sapphicstrawcore @shanesevikasfuckdoll @sevikaswinkinghole @sevikas-whore @butchpuppyy @georgiahs-stuff @illbecanon @riotstemple29 @barelykiramman @mommyissuesismypersonality

[themosscycle]

I like this take because honestly I see some people saying that playing as us alone (the heart moving outside of Kris) felt restrictive to them and our autonomy to interact with the game was just when we are controlling Kris.

My feelings about that light world section were entirely different. I liked to be able to see their interactions without me, the player, being directly involved with them.

I liked to see more of the real Kris, more about their struggles and attitudes without me being there. Because I am finally seeing them and getting a glimpse of that the hell is going on.

In my case it felt funny to just be there messing around things. Be able to see, witness and listen to stuff.

It is limiting for sure, but it felt also fine to be just in our own if that makes sense. Like: this is me.

I loved that section tbh and I really tried to get as much interactions and interpretations as I could.

I am really waiting for the game to keep developing our relationship with Kris.

I wish we could interact

I think any Deltarune analysis is incomplete if it doesn't acknowledge the fact that the player has no agency in this relationship either. A lot of early theorizing was that playing the game itself was bad, and comparisons were made to spec ops: the line.

Spec Ops has become something of a cliché in game criticism/theorizing because it represents one of the first times where the relationship between the game and the player was more complicated than just being a player insert power fantasy. Where it was explicitly part of the text that by playing this game beyond the first minute, you were already defying orders and risking lives. If Captain Martin Walker turned around, everything would have turned out much better.

That's not the case here and I hope that is clear by now.

We were *tricked.* The intro is us being promised a blank vessel, then forced into an already occupied body. We had no choice in this. Our only other option is non-existence, and that's not a choice anyone can really make.

Of course, we can make this relationship positive or negative. There's every sign that before we entered Kris's life, they were almost an empty shell of a person. They hadn't been to school in a while. They're extremely unkempt. They have nothing on display in their room. What friends they had have been alienated. Whatever happened to them before the game started, it seemed like they had stopped *living.* like they lost their soul, or, perhaps, their Determination.

We give that back to them.

Each chapter shows them growing progressively more autonomous. They take a more active role and show more of their personality. They defy us when they don't like what we tell them to do in increasingly forceful ways. They have fun without us telling them to. On a normal route, we are mostly a positive influence in their life. Of course, they resent us still. They're a teenager and we're a force of control in their life. Of course, they want freedom.

Maybe we can help each other with that.

(Weird route is, quite literally, another story)

[em1i2a3]

Fantasy

Pairing: College AU! Frat Boy!Bob Floyd x Fem!Reader!

Summary: It’s the morning after your unexpected night with Bob and you’re facing the aftermath of everything, including the awkward walk of shame through the frat house. (This is a continuation of ‘Glide’)

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, A little tiny light dusting of angst, Mentions of Drug Use (the good old devils lettuce), Swearing, Does Bob get teased by someone? Yes. Do they make reference to the fact he’s inexperienced and make a mean comment? Also yes. Bob is such a damn softie in this.

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (y’all wrap it up please), Shower Fun, Is Bob Becoming a Sex Maniac? Yeah, pretty much lol, Fingering, Oral Sex (female receiving), Handjob, A little bit of hair pulling, Face Grinding (briefly), Dirty Talk, Bob’s got a bit of confidence in this.

Author’s Note: Fun fun stuff for this sequel! Loved where I was able to take this and it was so fun to write! Hope y’all enjoy, next week I will be taking a break from Bob Floyd probably to make a Bucky upload (getting back to my roots lol), but I don’t know for certain yet! Anyways! Enjoy!

Word Count: 7,849

You woke to voices. Muffled, overlapping, half-laughing, half-shouting–like a sitcom with the volume turned low. It was the kind of familiar sound that could only come from a group of sleep-deprived college guys that were rehashing the chaos of the night before. The floor beneath you seemed to pulse faintly with every thump of footsteps, every bark of laughter, every clang of something metal being dropped–probably pans–and little quips being thrown around. You breathed in deeply, smelling cedar and burnt toast, as you slowly opened your eyes.

The room was dim, the soft gray light of a rainy morning filtering through the blinds. It casted soft shadows across Bob’s bookshelf, catching the gold edge of a NASA poster and the corner of his messy desk that still had his mass of study notes spread across it. The window rattled slightly with the wind, and beyond it, you could hear the steady, rhythmic percussion of raindrops tapping against the glass. The humidity from outside was slipping through the little cracks in the pane, causing the room to be a little warmer, coinciding with the heat beneath the comforter you were beneath.

You could feel a beating heart pressed to the back of your’s, slowly realizing that Bob’s body was molded to you like he was made to fit in that space. His skin was warm and a little clammy, the way bodies got after long hours of being tangled together under thick covers, skin against skin with no intention of separating. His chest rose and fell behind you, each breath moving you slightly with it–as if your bodies had become one mechanism overnight, syncing into something quiet and breathing and still.

His arm was heavy over your waist, his large calloused hand splayed across the dip of your stomach, fingers flexing every now and then with some dream clinging to his nerves. The pads of his fingertips brushed against your skin in slow, absent strokes, barely there, but gentle, like he was touching you in sleep the way he had touched you awake the night before. His chin was tucked into the hollow where your shoulder met your neck, his slight stubble whispering against your skin. Every few seconds, he let out a faint snore–more a sigh than a sound–his breath warm and damp where it clung to the side of your throat and cheek, making you squirm just a little as it tickled you, though you didn’t pull away. You didn’t want to, you just wanted to savour it–every humid breath, every sleepy twitch of his muscles, every inch of heat that rolled off him and engulfed you.

Your skin shifted against the cotton sheets as you stirred slightly, his boxer shorts slipping down your hips, cinched just enough by the elastic to keep from falling completely off. He had helped you into them after he had helped you clean off, insisting that it would be a bit more comfortable than wearing nothing at all. You had agreed after noticing the little embroidered emblem of ‘B.F’ on the waistband, finding it to be endearing in a way that he would let you borrow something that seemed so personal to him. It was the only thing you ended up wearing to sleep.

You shifted against him, and the movement was just enough to stir something in Bob–his breath caught and then exhaled in a long, sleepy sigh that rolled warmly across your bare shoulder. His hand moved along your stomach, fingers curling and spreading again in that same slow, absentminded affection, like he was already craving more of you.

Then he stretched–his body unfolding behind you with languid grace, pressing you closer as his legs slid against yours and tangled them more firmly. His nose nudged into the crook of your neck, and he let out a soft sound, something between a hum and a murmur, before he kissed your shoulder, lips soft, plump and wet.

“You awake?” He whispered, his voice low and rough from sleep, like honey and gravel pouring onto your skin. A smirk curved across your lips, because you could hear the grin in his tone.

“Yes I am,” You replied, teasingly light. He chuckled–just a low, muffled vibration in his chest that resonated through your spine. The sound made your stomach slip in the softest, most instinctive way.

”How’re you feeling?” He asked, his hand moving gently in small circles over your stomach again. You hummed, finally glancing back at him over your shoulder. His light brown hair was an absolute mess, sticking up in odd directions from where your fingers had buried themselves and pulled last night. His eyes were still heavy-lidded with sleep, his lashes casting soft shadows onto the gentle pink flush of his cheeks, but it was evident that he looked absolutely wrecked still.

“A little tired and sore,” You said with a slow smile, “But very satisfied.” You added. That earned another quiet laugh, and he leaned in to press another kiss to your shoulder, this one lingering just a bit longer than the last one, leaving a distinct wet mark in the sharpe of his lips on your skin.

”Oh yeah?” He pressed with mock curiosity, “Where are you sore?” You felt his hand shift lower this time, trailing just under your navel. His fingertips brushing the waistband of the boxers, teasing just beneath it with a featherlight pressure. A spark lighting beneath your skin.

”Couldn't be…Here, could it?” He murmured, not even pretending to hide the smile in his voice now. You exhaled softly and arched your back, pressing into him like a reflex.

”It very well could be,” You said, tone slow and sultry, “But I wouldn’t admit it to you if it was Casanova.” He let out a breath–more like a huffed laugh–and began kissing a path along your back, the trail of his lips warm and wet as they meandered lower. Your skin tingled with each press, and the hush of his mouth against your spine made you shiver in the most delicious way.

“I’m going to make you some breakfast…” He whispered between kisses, his tongue poking out to lick your skin, to taste the saltiness of your sweat that had plagued the valley there the night before, then he followed it with a long damp kiss, deliberate and unhurried, “Eventually.” He added. You giggled at the comment, your laugh catching on a breath, light and silvery, curling in the space between you like steam off morning coffee. Bob smiled into your skin, and you felt his arm snake beneath your pillow, tugging you gently as if coaxing you to turn towards him.

You let out a small sigh, letting the sheets drag across your bare chest as you rolled around to face him. The comforter slipped down just enough to expose the swell of your breasts to the rainy grey light flickering through the blinds–soft and diffused, like it was meant only to illuminate you for his eyes.

Bob’s face was still sleep hazed, but the moment his eyes landed on you fully, something behind them sharpened–like the fog of tiredness cleared all at once. His mouth parted slightly, lips plush and pink and still kiss-bitten from the night before, as his gaze traced over the curve of your collarbone to the way the blanket barely clung to you. He didn’t hide the way he stared–not just with lust behind his shimmering blue eyes, but with gentleness and admiration. Like he was surprised that you were in his bed, in his boxers, and wrapped up with him still.

He looked ruined and divine all at once, his jaw was dusted in stubble that caught the light, and now that you were able to get a good look of his messy hair it was evident you really did a number on him. His cheeks were still tinted with the faint heat of last night’s effort, and his blue eyes–crystalline and wide despite the shadows beneath them–flicked up to meet yours with something tender and wrecked simmering in them.

You reached out instinctively and rested your hand on his chest. His heart was thudding beneath your palm–quick, erratic, like your touch had jump started something primal in him.

”What’re we going to do between now and eventually, since you sound like you have a plan?” You teased, voice syrupy as you let your thumb brush a lazy circle across the smooth skin along his pec. His eye flicked to your lips, then lower, and you watched his faint pink tongue dart out–slow and subconsciously–as he licked along his bottom lip. The motion alone made your stomach twist.

“I have a lot of ideas…” He murmured, voice trailing off like it was being pulled from the back of his throat by heat alone. Your brows lifted, your lips curling up into a smile.

”Care to share?” Bob shook his head slowly, smirking as he leaned in closer.

”I’m more of a hands-on presenter.” Before you could get a word in, his mouth was on yours. The kiss hit you like heat rising from a simmering pot–hungry and wet, but still tender, still laced with that sleepy slowness that made everything feel more intimate. His lips moved against yours like he already knew the rhythm, like his body remembered it even before he’d fully woken. It was messy in the best way–breath tangled with breath, your mouths parting over and over like you couldn’t get enough, like each kiss bled into the next.

His knee nudged forward between your thighs, and without thinking, you opened for him, letting his thigh settle there, warm and solid. The weight of it pressed into your core and you instinctively rolled your hips forward into him, chasing the friction with a soft gasp. He groaned into your mouth, the sound low and deep, and you felt his hand settle on your waist, fingers flexing as he dragged you just slightly closer.

You reached up and cupped his jaw, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth as you hummed against his lips, pulling back just enough to breathe. Your forehead rested against his for a beat–your breaths hot and uneven between you.

Then his lips were on your jaw, open and slow, kissing a line down to your neck. Each press of his mouth burned, his breath fanning across your damp skin, making you feel dizzy with how much you wanted–how much he wanted.

“I must’ve woken up your sex drive,” You whispered, breath shaking, as your fingers slid into the damp strands of hair at the nape of his neck. He hummed against your throat, dragging his teeth along your pulse point, before licking the thumping spot.

“With how perfect you were last night…Yeah…You definitely did. I’m under your spell.” You let out a small gasp as he brought his tongue down to your collarbone, his lips following with an open-mouthed kiss that lasted too long to be innocent. His hand slid up the side of your waist now, fingers tracing the curve of your ribs until his palm cupped the underside of your breast.

He kissed across your chest like he was starved for it, like your body was the only thing he needed to survive the day. His mouth was warm and wet, kissing the top swell, then lower, before he paused and looked up at you–blue eyes glassy with want.

“Did I mention how amazing you look this morning?” You tugged gently at the curls at the nape of his neck, just enough to make him lift his head off your a little more. His lips were swollen and shiny, face flushed, he looked like something holy and ruined–your favorite kind of contradiction.

“No,” You murmured, a breath of a laugh escaping you, “But thanks for lying.” Bob blinked at you like you’d just spoken in tongues. Then, with a faint scoff, he shook his head and dipped down again to kiss the same breast he’d been worshipping seconds before, his mouth slow and warm and defiant.

“I’m not lying,” He replied, his voice vibrating into your skin, “You really do look amazing.” You rolled your eyes and laughed softly, your breath catching a little when his teeth grazed your skin.

“Sure…” He hummed, trailing his mouth across the valley of your chest, his hand skimming up your side, palm broad and warm against your ribs.

“Guess I’ll just have to prove it to you, then.” He whispered, leaning in to wrap his lips around your nipple, his tongue flicking across the sensitive peak. Your back arched almost instantly, a breathy groan slipping from your throat as you buried your fingers deeper into his hair. You could feel the heat of his mouth, the way he moaned quietly like he was the one being touched, like your body in his mouth was enough to drive him wild.

He pulled off with a quiet pop, dragging his mouth to the other breast, giving it equal devotion. He licked, then sucked again, slower this time, savoring. You let your eyes flutter closed for a second, overwhelmed by how soft and filthy he was all at once.

”Maybe we should shower before you go down on me again,” You breathed, the words tumbling out as your hand threaded into his hair again, though you didn’t sound very committed to the idea. Bob lifted his mouth from your chest, lips wet and parted, and looked up at you through the curtain of his lashes.

“Why?” He asked, cocking his head just slightly, voice low and teasing. “You think I’m not gonna like the taste because I came inside you?” Your brows shot up. The statement was so blunt, so casual, it caught you off guard in the best way.

“Most guys typically don’t,” You replied. Bob let out a soft, incredulous laugh, one that made your stomach tighten, and flutter.

”I don’t really care,” He said simply, dragging his hand along your side, his thumb brushing over your wet, peaked nipple, “It came from me, for Christ’s sake. There’s no harm in it…And it’s kinda hot, honestly.” His voice was warm and steady, and his eyes never left yours. There was no shame in his gaze. No hesitation. Just honest desire, unwavering and adoring.

“But,” He continued, fingertips gliding along your ribcage in a slow stroke meant to test your reaction, “If you really don’t want me to…” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your sternum. “We can take that shower together.” Another kiss, lower now, dangerously close to the waistband of his boxers hanging low on your hips. “And I can do it there.” You bit your bottom lip, hand resting against his flushed cheek.

”Only if you want to…” Bob didn’t hesitate. His lips curled faintly, a boyish cocky smile appearing on his mouth. Then–without breaking eye contact–he leaned in and gave your stomach a slow, deliberate lick, dragging his tongue just above your navel.

“I do.”

The breath fled your lungs in a stuttering sigh, and your hand slid into his hair as if by instinct.

“Okay…” You whispered, barely audible.

Bob pressed a kiss just above the waistband of your boxers before his fingers slid beneath the elastic, knuckles grazing your hips. He shimmied them down slowly, and you lifted your hips to help, watching as he peeled them past your thighs and down your legs, pushing them off to the side of the mattress.

He settled between your legs, spreading them gently, kissing the inside of your knee, your thigh, then again higher–closer, messier. His hands grasped your hips firmly like he needed to anchor himself, mouth dragging upward until the heat of his breath ghosted over your bare core.

His voice rasped as he looked up at you through heavy lashes, lips shiny from the trail he left on your skin

“Can’t believe I get to taste you again.”

Then his tongue was on you.

He started slow–broad strokes, flat and wet, working from the base of your folds up to your clit with aching patience, remembering what he had done to you the night before. You gasped, back arching instinctively, one hand gripping the sheets, the other sinking into his messy hair.

He groaned against you, like he’d just taken a bite of something divine.

“So sweet,” He muttered, voice muffled as he licked again, faster now, messier. His mouth was hot and slick and eager–tongue lapping in rhythmic strokes, pushing and curling at your entrance, before dragging up to circle your clit with maddening precision.

“Still sore?” He asked, pausing to kiss your inner thigh before diving back in, voice teasing and dark. “You feel so tight…I can’t get over how good you feel, even on my tongue.”

“Mmh–Bob,” You whimpered, rolling your hips up against his mouth, instinct taking over, “Please…Don’t stop.” He groaned again, grabbing your thighs tighter and pulling you closer, burying himself between your legs like he wanted to live there. His nose brushed your clit with every motion of his tongue, the sloppiness of it all making it hotter. His spit and your arousal were smeared everywhere–down your thighs, across his chin, into the sheets.

“Want you to ride my face a little…” He mumbled, voice thick and ruined, “Please…Grind down on me. Use me…I want you to take everything from me.” You moaned, hips bucking as you obeyed, gasping as you rolled against his mouth, your thighs trembling. His tongue flicked fast and firm now, in perfect rhythm, and when he slid two fingers inside you–curling them just right–you broke.

Your orgasm surged over you hard, sudden, and hot. You cried out, clenching around his fingers, your thighs pressing around his head as your body arched off the mattress.

He moaned through it, tongue still moving, easing you through every wave.

When you finally slumped back, dazed and still twitching, he slowed his motions–one last kiss to your swollen clit before he slid his fingers free with a filthy sound.

You watched, breathless and wide-eyed, as he licked them clean–slow and shameless, making eye contact the whole time. Then he crawled back up your body and kissed you.

It was hungry and messy and warm. You could taste yourself on his tongue, but also him–his breath, his sweat, the rumble of his satisfaction humming through his chest. When he finally pulled back, he was grinning–flushed and cocky and wrecked in the best way.

”God, that was fantastic,” He whispered, brushing your hair back from your face, “I’ll take you up on that shower though…” His lips ghosted your cheek.

”We can get all washed off and…” A pause, then a wicked grin appeared on his lips, “…Finish up there. Easy cleanup.” You laughed, half-delirious, heart still galloping as you dragged him into another heated kiss, carding your hands through his short strands of hair. You pulled back from the kiss with a soft, dazed breath, your lips still tingling, the taste of him and you mingling on your tongue. But the moment was threatening to spiral again, and you could feel yourself getting lost in it–his body pressed to yours, his hands still wandering, the cocky glint in his eye paired with the heat of his skin.

“Let’s get up before we’re stuck in this bed for the rest of the day,” You murmured, breathless but smiling, trying not to get swept back under by the weight of his body against yours. Bob groaned, letting his forehead drop briefly to your shoulder before he kissed it, warm and reluctant.

“I really wouldn’t mind that…” He mumbled, voice low and drowsy and filthy again. Then, with a final sigh, he pulled back and added, “But you’re right.” He shifted slowly, slipping out from under the covers, his skin bare and flushed, his movements slow like every part of him was still humming from you. As he sat up on the edge of the bed, he adjusted himself inside his boxers, clearly already hard again, even as he reached for the towels hanging off the back of his desk chair. He grabbed two–one dark grey, one soft blue–and tossed the lighter one toward you.

“I don’t think anyone’s up here,” he said, tone low but cautious. “But we’ll rush to the bathroom anyway.” You laughed softly and sat up, taking the towel from where it landed on the bed. Your legs wobbled beneath you as you stood, and you immediately grabbed the bedpost for support, laughing breathlessly.

“Jesus,” You muttered, wrapping the towel around yourself. “I feel like a newborn giraffe.” Bob turned, already halfway to the door, and burst out laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You look like one too. All wobbly and cute.”

“Don’t make me smack you with this towel, I’m really good at snapping it perfectly, you’ll be left with marks,” You warned playfully, pointing it at him as you tightened it around your body. He just grinned and reached his hand out.

“C’mon, baby giraffe. Before someone sees the state of us.”

You placed your hand in his, warm and firm, and the two of you tiptoed out of his room, breath caught in your throats, muffled laughter barely held back as you rushed down the hallway. You passed a poster half-ripped from the wall and the unmistakable stench of stale beer, but somehow managed to avoid being spotted as you slipped into the shared bathroom.

Once inside, Bob turned on the light, blinking against the fluorescent brightness, then quietly closed the door behind him and flipped the lock.

“I know I was in here last night…But I’m still surprised it’s weirdly clean here. I was expecting a crime scene.” Bob laughed as he took your towel out of your hands and hung it beside his, going towards the shower to turn it on.

”That’s because people probably peed on the lawn to be honest. Usually it’s absolutely destroyed here.” You grimaced and let out a laugh, wrinkling your nose.

”Bad for the grass.” You commented, and he smirked.

”We have a sprinkler system so…It prevents the lawn from yellowing.” He explained.

“No wonder the grass always looks healthy.” The both of you laughed, as steam started to rise from the shower head, the water hissing in the background of your mundane conversation. The mirror above the sink was already fogging at the corners when Bob nodded toward the shower.

“Go on in first,” He said, voice dipping low again. “I’ll be right behind you.” His eyes didn’t shy away from glancing down at your body, like seeing you under this light was a different experience than seeing you in his bed. You gave him a small pat on his hip, before stepping into the steam-filled shower, the hot water kissing your skin, immediately contrasting the chill you were beginning to feel on the tiled floor. You let out a soft sigh, tilting your head back beneath the stream, the warmth rushing over your face, your chest, your thighs.

The moment Bob stepped into the shower, steam swirled around him like it belonged there–curling up his flushed chest, catching on the tips of his messy hair, dancing down his thighs. His boxers were gone, his skin pink and kissed by cool air and anticipation, and his eyes immediately locked on yours through the soft fog. There was a flicker of something boyish in his expression when he saw you standing under the water, hair wet, skin glowing in the dim light, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

You turned toward him slowly, letting the water roll down your shoulders and between your breasts, and gave him a small, intimate smile–the kind that said I missed you, even though you hadn’t been apart for more than a few seconds.

Bob closed the space between you in a few quiet steps and leaned in, cupping your face gently before kissing you. It was soft–slower than the ones before. Less frantic. Like he needed this one to mean something. His lips were warm and pliant, parting just enough to let your breath mingle with his, and his hands settled on your hips like he wanted to memorize how you felt in this moment.

The water ran over both of you in steady sheets, and you tilted your face into the kiss, your hands drifting down his chest–slick and steady–until they met between your bodies.

Without breaking the kiss, you wrapped your fingers around him, your hand warm and slow as you began to stroke him. His cock twitched in your palm, already heavy and hard, the skin silky beneath your fingers. Bob’s breath hitched against your mouth, a soft, broken moan slipping out as his other hand came up to cradle your cheek.

You started slow, dragging your fist from base to tip with deliberate precision, twisting slightly at the top just to hear him gasp.

”Oh fuck,” He breathed, voice low and wrecked. You smiled into the kiss, your grip tightening slightly as you began to build a rhythm, and Bob’s hips jerked forward ever so slightly, like he was chasing your touch. The sound of water hitting tile only made everything feel filthier, more intimate. His mouth fell open against yours, and he whimpered into the space between your lips–breathy, desperate.

You pressed a finger to his mouth, shushing him gently with a teasing smile.

“Gotta stay quiet,” You whispered. “It’s echoey in here.” Bob’s head tilted back, mouth still parted, steam curling up his jawline. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his hands now gripping your waist like he was trying to ground himself.

“Y/N…” He moaned, voice cracking with need. “I want to be inside you so fucking bad… You’re gonna make me cum like this if you don’t stop.”

You sighed softly, a breath of indulgent defeat, and nodded. “Okay…” You began to turn around, ready to brace yourself against the tile, the logical, easy position in a slippery shower–safe, secure. But before you could fully spin, Bob caught your arm.

“Woah, woah…What’re you doing?”

You blinked, confused. “We’re having shower sex…This is literally the easiest and safest position.” Bob’s eyes met yours, and they were so open, so earnest–shimmering with warmth even through the haze of lust.

“But I want to look you in the eyes…So…Come back.” His voice was so soft it barely reached over the pang of water against the porcelain shower. Your brow arched slightly, surprised by the sudden tenderness in his tone.

”This isn’t porn, Bob. You’re gonna end up hurting yourself.” Bob let out a low laugh, the sound rasping up from his throat.

“Let me prove to you that I won’t.”

You squinted at him, skeptical. “Bob, if you drop me, we’re gonna end up in the ER.” He sighed, but there was a flicker of defiance in his grin.

“Y/N…Trust me. I’m strong. I may not be built like an Adonis…” He stepped closer, arms slipping around your waist, “…But I can certainly hold you up for a few minutes.” You hummed, biting your lip as he suddenly lifted you–strong arms sliding under your thighs as he pressed you back against the tiled wall. The tile was cool against your spine, a shocking contrast to the heat of his skin and the humid air that clung to every inch of your bodies. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist as instinct took over, clinging to him as he adjusted his grip. Bob kissed your cheek first, then your jaw, his voice a whisper as his lips brushed against you.

“Keep your legs wrapped around me for a second?” You nodded, breath quickening as he shifted one arm, balancing you with practiced care, and reached between your bodies with the other. You felt the tip of him brush against your entrance–already ready from the past ministrations–and you gasped again as he guided himself forward and slowly pushed into you. Your face dropped against his shoulder, your gasp muffled by the damp curve of his skin as he filled you–inch by aching inch, deep and slow and perfect. His breath faltered, a guttural groan rumbling from his chest as he sank in fully, his forehead pressing to your temple.

“Jesus Christ…” He whispered, voice strangled with how tightly your body welcomed him. “You feel…Incredible.” You could only whimper in reply, your legs tightening around his waist, your arms slung over his shoulders for leverage. Bob brought his hand back to your thigh, using the grip to roll his hips into you with a slow, controlled rhythm. His body pressed yours deeper into the wall with each thrust, water pouring over both of you in steaming rivulets, making your skin slick and warm and trembling.

“Could get lost in you forever.” He panted against your ear. You turned your face, catching his lips in a kiss–sloppy, desperate–your moans spilling into his mouth. His hips snapped forward harder, deeper, the sound of your bodies meeting echoing faintly off the shower walls, as his grip faltered just for a split second before tightening again.

“Don’t let me go,” You whispered breathlessly. Bob kissed your cheek again, the corner of your eye, your temple.

“Never…I’ve got you…” His thrusts quickened, and the way he looked at you–like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth–made everything spiral even faster. The heat, the weight of him, the way your bodies clung to one another like they’d always known how. You knew the high was coming again, coiling low in your belly like fire licking at your spine.

And Bob… Bob held you tighter.

“Wanna feel you fall apart around me just like last night. Want to feel you squeeze me till I can’t hold back anymore. Keep me under that spell of yours.” Your fingers threaded into his hair, sliding over his scalp until your palm flattened at the back of his head. You gripped hard–not rough enough to hurt, but firm enough to make him moan into your skin. Your other hand clutched at his shoulder, nails biting in for something to hold as he drove into you, deeper, harder, with the kind of desperate control that made your vision blur. The tile was cool against your spine, slick now, water cascading over the two of you in a fogged-up cocoon of steam and heat and muffled breath.

Bob’s rhythm didn’t falter–his hips continued to roll forward with relentless precision, pressing you into the wall like he was trying to leave a mark on your soul. Your breath came in stuttered bursts, every exhale breaking on a moan, every inhale shaky and full of him.

“Fuck Bob…You’re so deep–“ You gasped, your words nearly drowned by the rush of water and the wet slap of skin against skin. Your body was shuddering, tightening around him with every stroke, that unbearable coil twisting inside you, drawing tighter and tighter, the pressure mounting to an almost unbearable edge.

He was murmuring now–low, half-coherent praises against your ear as his teeth grazed the shell of it.

“That’s it, Y/N, god you feel so good, you’re gonna make me finish just like this.” Your thighs clenched tighter around his hips, and you gave his hair another tug, your mouth falling open as your climax slammed into you like a freight train. It ripped through your spine, white-hot and shattering, your body convulsing in his arms. Your eyes fluttered shut as you cried out, legs trembling around him, breath catching in your throat in a soundless moan.

Tears welled in your eyes–not from pain, not from anything bad–but from the sheer overwhelming sensation of it. Of him. Of the way he held you through it like he was afraid you’d disappear. The way he slowed for a second just to feel you clench around him, whimpering your name like it was sacred.

Bob groaned–long and low–and then he was burying his face in your neck, his rhythm faltering as he thrust once, twice more, and spilled inside you with a choked sound. His body trembled against yours, muscles quaking beneath your touch, and his arms locked around you tighter than ever as he pressed you to the wall, holding on like it was the only way to stay grounded.

You both stayed there for a long moment, tangled and breathless and shaking under the hot stream of the shower. The water couldn’t wash away the high you were both riding, or the way your heart raced like it was trying to chase his.

Bob kissed your cheek again, softer now, reverent. You could feel him still inside you, the occasional twitch of him as your body slowly unclenched around him. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke, lips brushing your temple.

”I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of you.” He whispered. You ran your fingers through his hair, gently this time, calming both of you as the water cascaded down your backs. You rested your forehead against his and replied.

”Me neither.” He smiled–boyish, ruined, completely undone–and leaned in for a kiss. It was slow, and warm, and tasted like rainwater and breathlessness and promises neither of you had spoken yet. His hands cupped your thighs, keeping you steady, even as he slowly pulled out of you with a wince and a soft grunt. You whimpered at the loss, your hips twitching slightly, still over stimulated and pulsing.

Bob leaned in, his breath still rough against your temple, and whispered, “You okay?”

You nodded, chest still rising in shallow waves, your hands resting lightly against his shoulders. “Never felt better.” A quiet laugh passed between you, both of you too blissed out to do anything but smile and breathe in each other’s air. The water continued to cascade around you, soft and rhythmic, like it was trying to lull you back into that warm, quiet pocket of time where nothing existed but him.

“You okay if I put you down?” He asked gently, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

“Yeah…” You gave a teasing grin, voice a little breathless. “You’ve done enough lifting for the day.”

Bob let out a low, sleepy chuckle, clearly pleased with himself, and kissed you again–softer this time. “Did I impress you?”

”Definitely.” That word alone made his whole face soften, his chest puffing slightly, not out of arrogance, but pride. He smiled at you, then leaned in and kissed you all over–your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your jaw, anywhere his lips could reach, they were there. You laughed, squirming just a little as he dotted your skin with affection.

”I’m glad,” He murmured, “Now, let’s get washed up before the hot water runs out.” You nodded, and Bob finally, slowly, let go of your thighs. He kept his hands on your hips as he lowered you with great care, like he was handling something fragile. Your feet touched the warm porcelain again, slick beneath your toes, and you stumbled just slightly–your knees still wobbly, your body humming from everything he’d just done to you. He caught you instantly, steadying you with both hands, fingers warm and sure against your sides.

”Still a bit wobbly, huh?” He teased, grinning down at you.

”I told you. Newborn giraffe.” You deadpanned, earning another laugh from him, this one soft and sweet and chest-deep. Bob reached for his shampoo on the little ledge, surprisingly it wasn’t a generic four in one like most guys used–it was expensive, you could tell from the bottle. He uncapped it and squirted a little into his palm, releasing the faint citrusy smell of it–lemon, lime, and cedar.

”Turn around?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

”You wanna wash my hair?” He gave a sheepish shrug, cheeks tinged pink beneath the stream.

“I’m still trying to make a good first impression…And I want to show how much I want to take care of you.” Your heart twisted, caught off guard by how tender he was, and you sighed, giving in to his request, turning your back to him.

And then–his fingers were in your hair, working the shampoo into your scalp with slow, careful strokes. His touch was gentle, but firm enough to make your eyes flutter closed. You could feel his chest brushing your back occasionally, his breath fanning over the back of your neck every time he leaned in closer. He scratched lightly at your scalp in just the right way, and a hum slipped from your throat before you could stop it.

”Feels good?” He asked, voice smug but still gentle.

”Mmm…Of course.” He chuckled and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your damp shoulder.

“Good…I like hearing that.” Bob’s fingers continued their steady rhythm, massaging the shampoo into your scalp with slow, patient care, nails grazing just enough to make your knees weak again. The water streamed down your back in warm sheets, steam rising around the two of you like a veil.

“Hey,” You murmured after a few quiet moments, voice soft and lazy from the bliss of his touch, “Are we still on for dinner tonight?” He paused, his fingers halting in your hair for just a beat too long before resuming again–slower now.

“Of course we are,” He replied, like it wasn’t even a question, “Why?” You shrugged, tilting your head into his hands a bit more.

”Just wanted to confirm.” Bob leaned in and kissed your shoulder again, lips warm and damp against your skin.

He lingered there for a second before murmuring, “I wouldn’t cancel, if that’s what you think…This’ll be my first actual date in a while, and–well, this one I’m actually looking forward to.” He kissed your shoulder again, a little firmer this time, “Cause it’s with a pretty awesome girl.” A laugh slipped from your lips–soft and breathy, surprised and a little giddy.

“Oh yeah?” You teased, “Do I know her?” Bob hummed, his fingers gently slipping off your scalp.

”I think so.” You bit your bottom lip, smiling into the mist.

”She hot?”

”The hottest,” He said without hesitation, “Smart too. Like, intimidatingly smart, she’s a chem major. And funny, and really, really good at towel snapping, apparently.” You laughed again, as he urged you under the stream of water to rinse out the mass of suds he had created.

”She sounds like an absolute catch.” You commented, tilting your head back to let the water rinse through the shampoo.

“She is,” He agreed, wrapping his arms around your waist, joining you beneath the stream, pressing his nose into the curve of your neck, “And she’s kind of already wrecking me a little bit.”

————————

Thirty minutes later, you stood near Bob’s desk, the soft rain still pattering against the window, wrapping his scent around the room like a blanket. You were drying your hair with the towel he’d handed you, wearing one of his oversized crewnecks–navy blue with the faded emblem of the frat house in the corner of it. It swallowed your frame, warm and worn and soft against your freshly scrubbed skin. His boxer shorts sat low on your hips, the waistband rolled once, and you could feel the lingering ache in your thighs as you moved.

Bob was already dressed–grey t-shirt clinging to his damp chest, the neckline slightly stretched, a pair of dark sweatpants slung low on his hips. His silver framed glasses were perched on his nose now, making him look devastatingly smart and devastatingly soft all at once. His hair was still a little messy from the shower, damp strands curling slightly at the ends, and he looked like every girl’s half-formed daydream come to life.

Without a word, he crossed the room and handed you a pair of his navy sweatpants–slightly faded, drawstring frayed at the ends, but clean and warm from where he’d just tugged them off a stack in his drawer.

“You can give them back to me tonight,” He said, a faint grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. You raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Already planning on me sleeping over…Oh Bob,” You teased, drawing out his name like a line of silk.

He let out a breathy laugh, cheeks pinking slightly as he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “Or maybe I’ll pick them up,” He murmured. “No expectations or anything.” Your heart stuttered a little at the sweetness of it, and you leaned up, brushing your lips against his. A quick kiss–gentle, sure–before you stepped back and pulled the sweatpants up your legs, tying the waistband tightly.

You sighed softly, adjusting the waistband, “I’m going to give you a slight warning…If we see Jake, we’re probably going to get ripped into.” Bob raised his brows, reaching for his keys from the desk.

”You two don’t get along?” You shook your head.

”We’ve got some beef.” He made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, kissing his teeth like he was offended on your behalf.

“Well,” He started, slinging a hoodie over his shoulder, “We have even more in common now. I don’t have beef with him, but he definitely judges me.” You stepped closer, reaching up to brush a few strands of his light brown hair off his forehead.

“Perfect, that gives me permission to get into a bit of a verbal scuffle.” Bob chuckled, the sound warm and low in his chest as he slung the hoodie over his shoulder and adjusted his glasses.

“I’m looking forward to it,” He said, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. You smirked and bent to slip on your shoes, the floorboards creaking faintly beneath your feet. The ache between your thighs flared just slightly as you stood back up, and you shot Bob a look that clearly said it was your fault. He just held his hands up in mock innocence and gave you a wink.

The two of you left the room together, Bob locking the door behind him. The hallway was quiet at first–muffled voices leaking from a room down the hall, the occasional thud of footsteps or laughter echoing off the old walls. The deeper you got into the house, the more the haze hit you: thick and earthy, laced with the unmistakable sharpness of weed.

You descended the stairs slowly, your hand brushing the railing, Bob close behind you. The moment you turned the corner and stepped into view of the living room, the air changed.

The room was a half-lit haze of smoke and low music–some lo-fi beat that was probably playing off a speaker perched precariously on the arm of the couch. Three guys lounged across the cushions, passing a blunt between them, while a fourth fiddled with a vape near the kitchen. The noise dipped the second they saw you. Like someone had hit mute on the house.

“Well well well,” Jake drawled, eyes scanning you from head to toe, then flicking to Bob beside you with exaggerated surprise, “Y/N? An overnight with a boy? What will the other nuns say when you return to the convent?” You didn’t even blink. Jake took a slow drag from his vape and exhaled, the smoke curling upward into the air.

“Oh wait…” He added, voice thick with smugness, “You probably still have your virginity, especially if you’re doing it with one pump chump Floyd over here.” He jerked his chin towards Bob with a smirk. You could tell he thought he’d scored some kind of point, like his jab had landed with weight. But instead of shrinking, you tilted your head and gave him a slow, syrupy smile–the kind that never meant anything good for the person on the receiving end.

“Oh, Jake,” You started, tone thick with faux pity, “At least Bob wasn’t resorting to his hand last night.” The other fraternity brothers coughed a bit, sharing glances, as Jake’s brows twitched, his face staying stoic, “Heard Jess abandoned ship around midnight. Something about how your ‘stroke game’ had all the rhythm of a dying Roomba?” You definitely embellished on that, but you had to start hitting low blows. Jake narrowed his eyes and leaned back, his jaw clenching slightly.

“Oh yeah?” He fired back, “You looked like you were barely walking down the stairs. Someone is clearly overex–“

”Do you always talk this much shit when you’re jealous?” Jake opened his mouth, but you pressed on, not giving him the air.

”It’s okay, really. Not everyone’s built for it.” Jake rolled his eyes.

”Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I sleep just fine,” You stepped closer, letting your grin curl into something razor–edged, “Especially when I’m getting thoroughly wrecked by a guy who actually knows what he’s doing.” Jake blinked, and for a split second, you saw it–the hit landed. Solid and clean. Before you could continue your little spat, Bob finally spoke.

”Alright, zipper tongue,” He started, grabbing onto your hand, “Let’s get your clothes from the dryer so I can walk you back to your dorm. You’ll need a nap to recover from all that sleep you missed out on last night.” He smirked, leaning in to murmur the last part just for you, “And so you’re ready for our date tonight.” You nudged him gently with your elbow, unable to fight the laugh that rose in your throat. The smug warmth of your win hadn’t even begun to cool as you followed him toward the laundry room, your bare feet padding softly on the hardwood floor.

Just before the hallway turned and the room faded from view, you glanced back over your shoulder at Jake.

“See you tonight, Jake,” You called, voice honey-sweet. “I’ll be sure to collect some pamphlets for the seminary. I’m sure they’ll take in a non-virgin, the priesthood is a very forgiving pathway.”

[onlyangel4]

change of pace. ln4. smau.

wwe interviewer!reader x lando norris

synopsis: you never expected a wwe f1 crossover to change your life, but there you were, trading the ring-side mic for the formula 1 paddock. what started as a one-off commentary swap for charity turned into something much more when you met lando norris. his smile was disarming, his charm effortless, and somehow, between engine roars and media chaos, you two just clicked. one race weekend was all it took to blur the lines between two worlds and make your heart race in an entirely new way.

faceclaim: cathy kelley

skysports

liked by y/ninsta, lando, jensonbutton and 823,338 others

tagged: y/ninsta

skysportsf1: as a charity challenge wwe interviewer y/n y/ln and our very own jenson button will be swapping jobs for one night only with y/n working on the interview team for the austin gp and jenson joining pat mcaffee and michael call for raw the following monday. this is quite the challenge for both parties partaking and both are up to have fun.

view all 11,283 comments

y/ninsta: f1 fans please be nice to me, i have working in hocley, basketball and baseball but never motorsports

jensonbutton: wtf is a suplex

user1: this is so stupid. i love it.

user2: i have no idea who she is but she is gorgeous

user3: this is such a fun idea

user4: as y/n's biggest fan i can't wait

y/ninsta posted a story tagging skysportsf1

written: beginning to regret taking on this challenge, see you tomorrow austin

inthepaddock posted a story

written: wrestling interviewer y/n y/ln has made it to the austin paddock for media day ahead of her swap with jenson button.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you adjusted the mic in your hand, trying to ignore how out of place you felt surrounded by carbon fiber and pit crews instead of steel chairs and pyrotechnics. the formula 1 paddock was a different kind of chaos, sleek, precise, but no less intense. still, you had a job to do, and you weren’t about to let a different kind of adrenaline throw you off your game.

your producer gave you the nod, and right on cue, lando norris approached with that easy grin you’d seen on a thousand highlight reels. he was dressed in full mclaren gear, hair slightly messy from the helmet, eyes bright and a little curious as he glanced at your wwe-branded mic.

"hi", he said, his voice light, playful. "you’re definitely not from around here."

you laughed, holding out your hand. "guilty. i’m from the other ring, less tires, more steel chairs."

he chuckled, shaking your hand. his grip was warm, confident. "this’ll be interesting."

"it’s a crossover special", you explained, lifting the mic between you two. "i’m here to ask the real hard-hitting questions."

"oh no", he teased, raising his eyebrows. "should i be worried?"

you tilted your head, playing along. "that depends. on a scale of one to ten, how emotionally attached are you to your helmet?"

his laugh was instant, boyish and genuine. "a solid nine. i think i just fell in love with your interview style."

you blinked, caught off guard. he wasn’t flirting was he? but then again, the way his smile lingered and his eyes didn’t quite leave yours, maybe he was.

and just like that, something shifted. the interview went on, full of easy banter and soft laughs, but you both knew it: something had started in those first few minutes. maybe it was just the novelty of two worlds colliding or maybe it was the beginning of something much more thrilling.

the interview wrapped, but neither of you moved right away. your mic was still in your hand, though lowered now, and lando lingered just a little too long for someone with a tight schedule.

"well", you said, smiling, "thank you for humouring the wrestling world today. you survived."

"barely", he said, mock dramatic. "you asked about my helmet and my skincare routine. brutal stuff."

you shrugged playfully. "people want answers."

he tilted his head, giving you a look that felt curious. intentional. "are you staying for the race?"

"i am", you said. "they’ve got me on commentary. something about getting an ‘outsider’s perspective,’ which is probably code for ‘let’s hope she doesn’t say anything that gets us sued."

he laughed again, that same warm, infectious sound. "well, in that case, i'll make sure i win."

you raised an eyebrow. "oh, confident."

"you’ll see", he said, backing away a step. but then he paused. "hey, uh, after the race, if you're still around..."

your heart skipped.

"would you be up for grabbing a coffee or something" he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish in a way that made him even more charming. "unless that's against code or something."

you smiled, trying not to look as giddy as you felt. "i think i can break a few rules."

he grinned, that boyish kind of grin that made the paddock blur for a second.

"good", he said, walking backward, pointing at you. "it’s a date. kind of."

you watched him disappear toward the garage, your mic still in hand, your heart still thudding louder than any engine in the paddock.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

landofan posted a story

written: i don't know who y/n is but i need her interviewing lando every race weekend because look how happy he was

y/ninsta

liked by lando, georgerussell3, rhearipley_wwe and 348,582 others

tagged: skysportsf1

y/ninsta: first ever gp was a success if i do say so myself

view all 11,238 comments

lando: it was great having you in the paddock

y/ninsta: thank you for answering my stupid questions

rhearipley_wwe: never leave me again

y/ninsta: missed you mami

user5: the last slide. im gonna be sick.

user6: i only found out who you are on thursday but now i'm obsessed

user7: petition to get y/n at every gp

user8: obsessed with how you vibe with lando

y/ninsta posted a story

danielricciardo posted a story tagging lando

written: reunited for something very fun.

landonorrisupdates posted a story

written: lando has arrived at madison square garden with daniel ricciardo ahead of monday night raw.

danielricciardo posted a story

written: i just met john cena. wtf.

lando posted a story

written: i feel like a wag

lando

liked by y/ninsta, skysportsf1, oscarpiastri and 928,384 others

tagged: y/ninsta

lando: six months ago we met when you came to my work, thought i'd repay the favour.

view all 29,848 comments

y/ninsta: best surprise ever

lando: loved watching you work

danielricciardo: thanks for letting me third wheel. meeting john cena is bucket list shit.

skysportsf1: changing my job title to matchmaker

user9: omg what a perfect couple

user10: i need new content immediately

user11: those are my parents

[monstersholygrail]

Jellyfish Hybrid Stoner

Preview— Patreon Exclusive

Jellyfish Hybrid x fem!reader— high sex, groping, tentacle play, light fingering, free use, tentacles stuffing all your holes, gagging on them, multiple orgasms

You check your watch for the fourth time in the past three minutes. Still waiting around in your room for Jellyfish Stoner to come by your place for the drop. He always did this, never coming on time to pick up his usual.

As blitzed and out of it as he usually was, sometimes you thought he did this on purpose. Made you wait around so you had to give someone else all your other deliveries. Leaving you perfectly free to hangout and light up with him.

And just like every other time you’d handled his drop instead of one of your guys, the minute the clock ticks past your last scheduled appointment for the day, the door swings open to reveal the accused.

He saunters in, already looking high off his own stash, and laughing at some joke in his head.

“You know they’re just giving out cocks!” He proclaims as he flops right next to you on the mini-couch in your dorm.

“Must’ve missed that aisle on my last grocery run,” you grumble, spinning the fat blunt you rolled hours ago between your finger tips.

Jellyfish erupts into a fit of giggles, falling into your side. As if on instinct his tentacles immediately begin curling around your plump limbs and latching on possessively. None of them stinging you but they do deliver a delicious little buzz along your veins that never fails to make your body perk up in attention.

You hate how infectious his laughter is and how easy it would be to lean into him. Join in on the fun no matter the reason. And you want to. Because then you wouldn’t have to admit to yourself that you’re upset he’s so late as that would lead to you admitting the reason; that you missed him.

Instead you just sit there watching him with hearts in your eyes. And if he was any more sober he’d notice it for sure.

“Not what I meant, silly,” he coos at you, plucking the blunt right out from your grip.

The flame flickers across his translucent skin, making him appear almost ethereal as he flicks the lighter open and lights the blunt, pulling hard from it.

Something about the familiarity of all this soothes your hurt and you find yourself melting into him as he hands it off to you.

“All my friends are giving their mates their cocks as gifts. Do you want a cock? I could get you a cock,” Jellyfish Stoner offers and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.

And it has nothing to do with the stick in your hand.

Luckily enough for your heart, you don’t take him too seriously. He’s always teasing and joking around— flirting— with everyone. It’s a natural state for him. You try and convince yourself this isn’t different.

“I think I’m good.”

That’s the right answer. You’re positive. But if it is then why is he looking at you like that? His red-rimmed eyes all half-lidded and alluring. The reflection in them practically glittering, focused solely on you like you’re the only girl in the world. As if a million thoughts are hidden in their depth and they all point to you.

You don’t know how he seems to be thinking so much after all the stuff he’s smoked. But people often overlook just how smart he is. There’s always something more to his words.

“Hmm. What if it was mine? Want my cock, baby?” He asks, voice suddenly growing more husky.

This is a Patreon exclusive fic so you'll only be able to read it there! Check it out if you're interested in reading the entire fic and many more. I have a ton of other exclusive and early access fics that you can read there too!!

[r66dusthewriter]

Hello! Could you write something about a reader from Rio Grande do Sul and Daryl? He calls her a cowgirl because she wears a traditionalist hat and boots.

thanks!

Lessons in riding.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader.

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

A/n: Did some research, i hope it lives up to your expectationc love!

Genre: suggestive fluff

Warnings: suggestive word play

Era: Season 2

Word count: 0.8k

The sun had barely dipped below the horizon, casting golden light over the Greene farm. You leaned against the fence near the barn, one boot propped up, hands tucked into your belt as you watched the horses graze lazily. Your bombacha pants were dusty from walking the fields, and your lenço was tied tight around your neck, but it was the chapeu tradicionalista, wide-brimmed, worn and proudly yours that drew attention more than anything else.

"Thought we had enough cowboys 'round here," a low voice drawled from behind you. You turned, unsurprised to find Daryl standing there, crossbow slung over his shoulder, eyes flicking from your boots to your hat. "Didn't know we were recruitin' from Brazil."

You smirked, already used to his half-teasing, half-curious tone. "I'm not a cowgirl, Dixon. I’m a gaúcha…different things.”

"Uh huh." He stepped closer, peering at the hat with an amused squint. "So wha's tha’ make ya? Pampas princess?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like a princess to you?"

He gave a half-shrug. “Definitely ain’t seen none carry knives like tha’.”

You tilted your head. "Don’t forget I shoot, too."

His lip twitched and for Daryl, that was practically a full grin. “I noticed.” He leaned against the fence beside you, shoulder brushing yours briefly. “Ya ever ride?”

“I was ridin’ before I could walk,” you said proudly, eyes flicking to the horse pen. “My grandfather had a farm… taught me how to lasso cattle and dance chula before I learned long division.”

Daryl let out a rare, quiet chuckle you loved. “Dance wha’ now?”

“Chula. You jump over sticks to the beat. It’s a southern Brazil thing.”

“Mmm…fancy footwork ’n dangerous weapons, sounds just like ya.”

You turned to face him fully, hand on your hip. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’ bad.” His eyes held yours for a moment too long. “Just sayin’ ya handle yerself. Ain’t many ‘round here tha’ do.”

There was a soft moment of silence between you filled by the distant sound of Carl laughing by the house, accompanied by a breeze lifting the corner of your shirt. Daryl cleared his throat, looking back out over the fields.

"Still don’t get the hat, though," he muttered. "Ain’t it hot wearin’ tha’ all day?"

You took the hat off and twirled it in your hand. “It’s tradition. Back home, if you wear boots and a hat, people know you’re proud of where you come from.”

Daryl was quiet for a second and then, softly… “Ya miss it?”

You blinked. He rarely asked questions like that. “Every day,” you admitted. “The food, the music, the way we’d sit around the fire and drink chimarrão…even the rain.”

“I miss the woods,” he said. “Back home. Me and Merle used to hunt squirrels with slingshots. Dumb stuff. But it's home.”

You gave him a knowing look. “This place starting to feel like home to you?”

He didn’t answer right away. “When’s quiet. When people ain’t screamin’ or fightin’….’n when I get t’ sit next t’ you and talk ‘bout nothin’.” He nodded to himself “Yeah. Kinda does.”

Your heart skipped just a little. Daryl looked away, ears a touch pink. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

“Well then,” you said, gently bumping his arm, “guess we’ll both just have to bring a little piece of home with us.”

He glanced back at you. “Guess that explains them cowgirl boots.”

You laughed. “Gaúcha boots, Daryl.”

“Righ’. Gaúcha.” He nodded, dead serious now. “Gotta get my words right. Can’t be insultin’ no Brazilian cowgirl.”

You leaned in just enough to tease. “Mhm, you’d be smart not to.”

He leaned back, eyes crinkling slightly. “Ain’t tha’ smart.”

“Noticed,” you shot back, playful.

“Watch it” He crossed his arms, mock affronted.

You tipped your hat back on and started toward the house with a sly smile. “C’mon, Dixon. I’ll show you how to clean a saddle the right way. Might even let you sit in it if you promise not to fall off again”

He followed close, the crunch of his boots in the dirt steady behind you. “Pfff I don’t fall easy,” he muttered.

You threw a wink over your shoulder. “Good. You’re gonna need stamina if you ever wanna get a ride from a real cowgirl.”

Daryl stumbled for half a second before catching himself, his ears immediately turning red. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath but he couldn’t stop the crooked grin spreading across his face.

You just kept walking, hips swaying with casual confidence, calling back over your shoulder: “Don’t worry, Dixon. I’ll go easy on you… the first time.”

Behind you, he groaned, muttering under his breath. “Damn crazy South Americans.”

But he followed and the smile on his face didn’t leave even after the sun dipped below the horizon.

[dawnfire12]

Becoming a Family

Pairing: Saja boys (Kpop Demon Hunters) x You (female manager)

Summary: You have been feeling nauseous lately. Not only that but also a bit more sensitive and it seems your period is late. The boys’ wish of you becoming pregnant may just be true. 

Warnings: smut content, light fluff

Word Count: 2049

A/n: for @ackerkisses and @grandesteartherquakedreamer who wanted to see what would happen if you were pregnant. Hopefully delivered!

Gasps, moans, groans and slapping of skin are all that can be heard in the dressing room as Jinu holds you up against the wall pounding into you. Your panties are dangling around one ankle while your high heels are struggling to stay on and your shirt has been pulled to have your breasts exposed. Jinu sucks on your breasts that seem to be more sensitive as of lately. You moan from feeling his tongue circle your nipple and ultimately this leads to your orgasm. He doesn’t last long as your walls squeeze him and he finishes in you with a groan and lazy pumps.

He sets you back on the ground and dresses you.

As he buttons your shirt back up he comments, “Your boobs seem a little bigger recently.”

You raise your eyebrow at him as he zips up his pants and goes to the mirror, “Really?”

He comes up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist, “Yeah and you seem to be glowing.”

You blush, “That’s cause we just finished.”

“Not just that. But lately in general.”

You turn in his arms to face him and your eyes tear up, “I’m glowing?”

He looks a little taken aback, “Yeah glowing. You’re beautiful.”

You sniffle, placing your hands on his cheeks, leaning up to kiss him, “I love you.”

He sighs into the kiss, “I love you too.”

You stay in his arms for a few more moments before kicking him out so he can get ready to perform on the variety tv show the boys are appearing on. Taking this one moment of silence, you make a cup of ramen and get ready to slurp it up when a wave of nausea hits you. You place your hand over your mouth and run to the bathroom to vomit. You tear up a little bit as you kneel on the floor, emptying the contents of your stomach. You place the palm of your hand on your forehead and take deep breaths to control your breathing. Once your breathing is controlled, you flush the toilet and wash your hands. This is at least the fourth time this week you’ve thrown up. You can’t be sick as you have no fever, runny nose, or sore throat. You just happen to vomit at the smell of certain foods which is totally normal.

You examine yourself in the mirror and realize you are glowing even though you did just throw up. You do also feel that your boobs have been feeling swollen and it feels so good when the boys massage them. Usually, you get swollen before your period…. Period. You blink at the mirror. You can’t remember when your last period was. Your heart clenches. There is no way you are pregnant, maybe your period is just late from stress. You smile weakly at the mirror.

Oh who are you kidding? You may be pregnant! Let’s be real here. The boys never use condoms and it’s not like you demand them to wear anyone. Half the time you are pounced on before you can even think. Not to mention the fact that they take any chance they can to not only be in you but to also finish in you. 

You slap your cheeks. Okay. All you have to do is buy some tests to make sure and take it when the boys aren’t looking. You look at your watch and see that the boys will just be heading to the stage. You quickly walk backstage to see them about to enter the main stage. Their heads turn at your heels clacking as you wave them good luck. They smile and nod back at you. You stand there for 10 minutes before telling the PA you have to pick some food up for the boys. It’s not really a lie, you just happen to be getting pregnancy tests with some snacks.

You rush to the convenience store, putting a bunch of snacks in your arms and grabbing four pregnancy tests. You get up to the self-checkout aisle, put your stuff in the bag and run back to the studio. You don’t even drop the snacks off, you bring them with you to the bathroom so you can pee on all four sticks. As you wait for all four to turn whatever color you pace and bite your nails. Your timer went off and you looked at all four sticks that said the same thing, positive. 

You place your hand against your forehead and lean against the wall. The breath has been knocked out of you. You feel your heart race as well as your mind. What are you going to tell the boys? You would imagine they would be happy with the way they constantly have to have their dicks in you. But what if they would change their minds? What would you do with this baby if they left you? What are you going to do with this baby period?

As you start to spin out a little bit more, you get a text from the PA stating the show has 10 more minutes left before ending. You are at work, you have to stay professional. You nod your head and fix your clothing before grabbing your snacks and heading backstage. You make it in time for the boys to start walking off.

Baby pouts at you, “Where were you?”

You hold up the bag, “I went to get snacks.”

Baby smiles, “Okay, not mad at you anymore,” he takes the bag and runs off.

“Hey! Those are for all of you!” You shout after him.

“Hello gorgeous!” Romance purrs at you and hugs you.

You melt in his arms, “Hi,” and you feel another pair wrap around you, “Hi to you too Abby.”

Abby playfully bites your ear, “Missed you.”

You slap the back of his head and wiggle out of the hug, “Go to the car now.”

He pouts and tries to protest when Romance drags him away. Mystery gently grabs your hand and you pet his head. He nuzzles into you before following the boys. Last but not least Jinu approaches you.

His eyebrows furrowed, “You okay?”

You nod, “Yeah, just a little tired.”

He hums, “Okay.”

You walk out together into the waiting car. On the car ride home, you fall asleep and wake up to being carried in Abby’s arms. You snuggle into his chest and he tightens his arms around you. He places you on the bed and tucks you into bed. 

You grab his arm as he goes to walk away, “Stay. Cuddle with me.”

He grins, “Ohh you wanna cuddle? That’s all you want to do huh?”

“Abby.” You whisper with pleading eyes.

He freezes at those and just nods, slipping in right beside you and pulling you to his chest.

For the next week, the boys notice how anxious and sick you seem. Constantly biting your lip or thumb, shifting your eyes rapidly, and not to mention your abrupt timing to go to the bathroom. Unable to take it, one of them confronts you in the kitchen, caging you with both of his arms placed on either side of you at the kitchen counter.

“You are starting to worry me. Are you okay?” Jinu asks.

You open your mouth and close it a few times before you look to the side.

“Y/n. You can tell me. Please let me help you.” He pleads.

A tear or two falls from your cheek before you look at him, “I’m pregnant.”

At first, he looks saddened from your tears. Shocked by your words. Then the biggest grin you have ever seen.

“Really?” He beams.

You nod and he lifts you up, swinging you around.

“Boys!” He shouts and they all run into the kitchen, “We are going to be daddies.”

They all cheer and take turns hugging you. You laugh and wipe your tears.

“Yeah! I’m gonna be a dad!” Abby flexes and spins you around.

“Hey! No spinning the pregnant lady!” Romance scolds him, rubs your back and kisses you on the forehead.

“My baby is having a baby!” Baby smothers you to his chest until Mystery pulls you from him.

Mystery kisses you softly, placing his head on yours and whispers, “I can’t wait to have this baby.”

You had no reason to worry. 

For the next few months, you are pampered. Romance makes sure to rub your feet and back. Baby constantly talks to the baby. Abby and Jinu make sure you don’t lift anything heavy or do too much labor. Jinu makes sure the apartment is babyproof. Mystery sits with you when the other boys start to become too much and you need a calming spirit. 

You give birth to a beautiful black haired baby boy who is a carbon copy of his daddy Jinu. All the boys tear up when they first hold him. 

Jinu is very tentative to the baby. First time he cries, Jinu is up by the crib and rocking him back to sleep. Baby has a video camera always pointing at the baby as he wants every moment to be saved. Abby always picks him up in the air to hear his little giggles. Romance smothers the baby with kisses and Mystery is the best naptime partner to be with.

They all love their baby, however seeing him as a carbon copy of their leader, they also want a carbon copy too. So once the okay is given by the doctor, Jinu is locked out of the bedroom while the boys get hard at work in your foursomes.

Not very long after you are pregnant with twins! You give birth to a baby boy who looks exactly like Abby but with your eyes and a baby girl who looks just like Romance. Since it’s the first girl born all the boys swear with their fists raised and fire in their eyes no man will ever be enough for their baby girl. 

Mystery and Baby soon kick Romance and Abby out of the bedroom to get to work on their mini mes and no surprise you're pregnant again giving birth to a beautiful baby girl with silver hair and your eyes. All the boys coo at her giggles and wiggle her toes.

Baby then gets to have you all to himself and he’s not complaining. He gets to go as many rounds as he likes and no one can stop him. You soon give birth to a mini-me baby.

As you stand in the doorway to the kitchen and living room rocking your newest baby, you feel so much joy watching each boy playing with their kids. Mystery and baby Myara lay on the couch together staring at Abby and baby Leo where Abby pretends to eat his toes. Romance is brushing baby Suki’s hair to put it into cute braids. Jinu is playing his bipa for baby Ryo and baby Ryo claps again. Baby comes from behind you to snatch baby Ava.

You smile as you see the family you created and while you try to memorize this picture, arms wrap around your waist and you feel a kiss on your cheek. You look to see Jinu smiling and you lean up to kiss him. He shifts your hips so you are fully facing him and presses you against the counter. He deepens the kiss as his tongue traces your mouth, remembering how you taste and he moans. He grips your hips and you lean your head back, which leads him to trail down your neck leaving soft kisses.

“Jinu. The kids are all right there.” You whimper. 

He trails his kisses back up and looks you in the eye, “Well I haven’t gotten my fair share of you in a while. I’ve missed your taste. And so have the others.”

You feel yourself get a little wet at his confession. You have missed everyone too. He pulls you to the closet and lifts you up.

“Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.” He sucks on your neck.

Good thing the boys are all distracted because Jinu definitely shows you how much he’s been holding back and missing you. You won’t be surprised if you get pregnant again.

[szariahwroteit]

Girls Need Love: A Kylian Mbappè x Original Character Erotic Series.

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 30

“So, instead of addressing your issues like an adult, you had sex with Kylian and then left while he was asleep to catch a flight home?” Tabitha pointed out, identifying several red flags in the way her sister had handled the argument with Kylian.

“I know I shouldn't have left like that, but as I watched him sleep I felt guilty,” Giselle confessed, her red puffy eyes squinted against the natural light that filtered into her bedroom.

“Guilty for what?” Ayesha asked curiously, a cautious and less direct edge to her voice than her sister's.

“I come with so much baggage. How is he supposed to love me despite it?” Giselle said, her voice breaking as she choked back a sob. “He could have anyone he wants, not… this.”

“Have you ever thought about the fact that this is what he wants?” Tabitha asked motioning over her sister's withered frame, buried beneath a sweater sizes too big for her. “He loves you and you love him.”

“I messed up,” Giselle continued, her voice trembling as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I let my insecurity take over, and I used sex as a way to escape. It was a mistake.”

Ayesha moved closer, her expression softening. “We all make mistakes, Gigi. But running away won’t fix anything. You two need to talk things through. He deserves to know how you feel.”

Tabitha nodded, her tone turning more serious. “Communication is key. You can't carry this baggage alone. If you want him to understand and love you, you have to share your fears with him. All of them.”

Giselle looked down at her hands, the silence heavy in the air. “What if he doesn’t want that? What if he sees me as broken?”

“Everyone has their scars,” Ayesha reminded her gently. “It’s how we deal with them that matters. Facing it together could make your bond even stronger.”

Giselle took a deep breath, her heart racing as she considered the weight of her sisters' words. “But what if he chooses to walk away?”

“Then that’s on him,” Tabitha said firmly, her intensity unwavering. “But you owe it to yourself to be honest. You owe it to him too.”

Rubbing her weary eyes, Giselle nodded slowly. “Good, now get dressed so we can head to brunch,” Ayesha snapped playfully, pulling the comforter from her little sister. “Mom’s waiting on us.”

Tabitha and Ayesha were always the first to tease their younger sister, poking fun at her endlessly about one thing or another. However, when the time came to step up, they became her protectors in every sense of the word, always there to lift her.

“Please don't mention anything about Kyliam to Mom,” Giselle pleaded, her voice wavering as she looked at her sisters with wide eyes. “I just need a little time to figure this out for myself first.”

“Relax, we won’t say a word,” Ayesha reassured her, tossing the comforter aside and heading to the closet. “You know Mom has enough on her plate without adding your love life to the mix.”

Tabitha smiled softly, sensing Giselle's anxiety. “Besides, brunch is our time to catch up, not to dive into heavy stuff. Just focus on enjoying some time with us, good champagne, and delicious food out parents’ dime.”

“Right,” Giselle replied, a hint of a smile breaking through her earlier distress. “Let’s just have a normal day, please?”

As Giselle got into the shower, her sisters picked out a simple outfit for her to throw on and a pair of sunglasses to hide her swollen eyes.

Time zones made it easy to avoid Kylian for the most part, she hadn't spoken to him since fleeing Paris days prior, but they had messaged back and forth.

All he wanted was to know that she was safe and in turn Giselle was torn between the urge to reach out and the fear of her vulnerability.

She spent the flight home to Atlanta curled up in tears, she'd hardly touched any of the food and instead chose a diet that consisted of vodka and water to quench her thirst.

She regretted her decision to leave the moment she stepped out of Kylian’s place, but the hole she dug for herself wasn't one she could simply climb out of. Instead, she had to burrow through and come out on the other side.

As the warm water cascaded over her, Giselle reflected on the past few days. Memories of Kylian flooded her mind—the way he smiled, the warmth of his embrace, the way they laughed together over dinner. Yet, every joyful moment was tainted by the weight of her insecurities. She sighed deeply, trying to wash away the sorrow that clung to her.

Once dressed, she joined her sisters downstairs, and the familiar atmosphere of teasing and laughter enveloped her. But despite the light-hearted banter, Giselle felt a nagging emptiness inside, a disconnect from the joy around her.

The brunch spread was inviting, a colorful array of dishes that made her stomach growl. But instead of diving in, she pushed her food around on her plate, too distracted by her swirling thoughts.

Despite her daughter's silence and solidarity, a mother's intuition came second to none. Eva could feel her daughter's inner turmoil as they sat down together at the table. Eva observed Giselle's half-hearted attempts to engage in the conversation, her mind clearly elsewhere. The sunglasses over her eyes did very little to conceal her emotions.

“Is everything okay, sweetheart?” Eva finally asked, her voice gentle but filled with concern as she reached across the table placing her hand over Giselle’s. “I haven't seen much of you since you've been home.”

“It's jetlag,” Giselle lied.

“Is that what we’re calling him?” her mother asked, a soft knowing smirk etched onto her features.

Giselle felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her; she couldn't meet her mother's knowing gaze. “Mom, please,” she murmured, trying to deflect the conversation.

Eva could sense the anguish radiating from her youngest daughter, and although she had been asked to let it go, she couldn't.

She leaned in closer, her voice soft and reassuring. "Giselle, you know you can always talk to me, right? No judgment, just a mother's love and support." She paused, her eyes searching Giselle's face. "Whatever's bothering you, whatever mistakes you think you've made, we can face it together. You're not alone in this."

Ayesha and Tabitha exchanged a glance, knowing that their mother's intuition had kicked in. They had hoped to shield Giselle from this conversation, but they knew better than to interfere with Eva's protective instincts.

Giselle felt a lump form in her throat, her eyes welling up with tears. She glanced at her sisters, who offered encouraging nods, silently urging her to open up to their mother. Taking a deep breath, Giselle removed her sunglasses, revealing her puffy, redrimmed eyes.

"I... I messed up, Mom," she sobbed.

“I’m a woman of resolution and I raised you and your sisters to be the same, Tell me what happened, and then we’ll go about how you can fix it.”

Eva, the middle child of four, spent her former years competing in pageants around the world before being crowned Miss Universe at the age of twenty-three.

After meeting her husband, who was a lawyer in Atlanta at the time, she retired from pageantry and transitioned to a career in event planning, collaborating with some of the most reputable names in America.

Giselle took a shaky breath, her fingers trembling as she fiddled with the stem of her champagne flute. The bubbles tickled her nose, but the familiar comfort of the drink did little to ease the knot in her stomach. She knew she couldn't keep running from the truth, not from her mother, not from herself.

She recounted their story to her mother, starting from the moment she met Kylian at Elise’s engagement party in Paris. Their chemistry had been electric from the very beginning, although she chose to omit the details that would make her blush.

She explained who he was in terms of his career and him at his core, confirming her mother’s suspicions that she had been involved romantically with someone during her long weeks in Europe.

Eva listened intently as Giselle poured out her heart, her expression softening with understanding and empathy. She reached out, gently squeezing her daughter's hand, offering silent support.

"Oh, Giselle," Eva said softly, her voice filled with compassion. "I know it's scary to open up and let someone in, especially when you've been hurt before. But from what you've told me, Kylian seems like a good man. He's shown you kindness, patience, and understanding. Those aren't qualities to take lightly."

Giselle nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I know, Mom. But I still doubted what we had. What if he realizes I'm too much and walks away?"

“Gathering that you're here and not wherever he is, he might feel like you've done the same thing,” Eva rationalized.

Eva's words struck a chord within Giselle, and she felt a pang of guilt for how she had left Kylian. She had been so consumed by her insecurities that she hadn't considered how her actions might have affected him.

"I know I should have stayed and talked to him," Giselle admitted, her voice trembling. "But I was scared. I'm scared, Mom. I don't want to lose him, but I don't know how to face my fears and let him in."

Eva reached out, cupping Giselle's face gently. "Sweetheart, love is never easy. It requires courage, vulnerability, and a willingness to be seen, flaws and all. But it's in those moments of raw honesty that true connections are forged."

Giselle's eyes welled up with tears, and she leaned into her mother's touch. "I just don't know if I'm strong enough, Mom.”

“Love isn't about being ready; it's about learning as you go. I read something once that said, “The first letter of love is L, and L stands for learning.” Eva's words hung in the air, resonating deeply within Giselle. The idea of love as a journey of learning, not just an endpoint to reach, began to shift her perspective. "Learning," she repeated softly, contemplating the depth of what that meant.

Her mother continued, "Every relationship comes with its challenges, and they require effort from both sides. If Kylian is worth the risk, don’t let fear of the last rob you of the chance to love and be loved correctly."

Giselle felt a weight beginning to lift off her chest. "But what if he doesn't want to carry my baggage?”

“Has he told you he doesn't want to, or was it the little voice in your head?” her mother asked knowingly.

Giselle hesitated, reflecting on her mother's question. She realized that Kylian had never suggested he couldn't handle her past or the complexities of her life. It was her insecurities whispering those doubts into her mind, twisting her perception of how he might feel.

“No, he never said that. He's always been understanding,” Giselle admitted, biting her lip.

“Exactly,” Eva encouraged, her voice firm yet caring. “Sometimes, we’re our own worst critics. Kylian may see you for who you truly are, not just the baggage you believe you carry.”

Taking a deep breath, Giselle wiped away her tears, rekindling a glimmer of hope within her. “Maybe I could reach out? We've messaged one another but I haven't been able to bring myself to talk to him and he hasn't called me.”

Eva nodded, her smile encouraging. “You said you needed space and he's giving it to you, but he deserves peace of mind just as much as you do. Call him later.”

Giselle felt lighter than she had upon leaving brunch with her mother and sisters, those words resonating deep within her. As they wrapped up their meal and finished their mimosas, she could sense a shift in the air. The brunch had been a welcome distraction, but now she was eager to face the truth.

When they returned to the family home, Giselle was met by a small stack of cardboard boxes each labeled fragile and addressed to her.

Ayesha and Tabitha curiously followed their sister as she took the boxes into the kitchen, grabbing a pair of scissors so she could begin opening them.

Starting with the smallest box, Giselle carefully peeled back the packing tape, her heart racing with anticipation. Inside, she found a delicate velvet box, and as she pulled it out, her breath hitched in her throat.

“What is it?” Ayesha leaned closer, her curiosity piqued.

Giselle opened the pouch to reveal a sparkling diamond necklace that caught the light and dazzled before her eyes. The brilliance of the diamonds was overwhelming, and she felt a rush of emotions flood over her.

“It’s beautiful!” Tabitha exclaimed, her eyes wide in amazement.

Giselle’s fingers trembled as she lifted the necklace from the box, the diamonds shimmering like stars against her skin. The realization hit her like a wave; this had to be Kylian's doing.

Looking inside the box the jewelry was delivered in she noticed a small white envelope and pulled it out, a lump forming in her throat before she even began to read the note.

Giselle,

No matter the distance or the doubts that linger in your mind, I see you for who you are and I want every part of you. Good, bad, and whatever in between.

- Kylian

Giselle's eyes filled with tears as her bottom lip trembled, The necklace was beautiful and must've cost a fortune, but it was the card that stole her heart entirely.

A gasp from Tabitha stole her attention away from the note as she lifted the unmistakable orange Hermes box from another package.

“What is that?” Ayesha asked, her eyes gleaming with excitement as Tabitha carefully pulled the lid free from the box.

“I can’t believe this. He went all out!” Tabitha exclaimed, her disbelief evident as she reached inside, pulling out a beautifully crafted yellow mini Kelly handbag that practically shimmered under the kitchen lights.

Giselle's heart raced as she recognized the design—it was a bag they'd seen whilst in Monaco that she'd practically salivated over. “Kylian didn’t...,” she whispered, caught between disbelief and gratitude.

“Wow, this is incredible!” Ayesha added, her excitement contagious. “You need to call him, Giselle. Gifts aside, he is making an effort!”

Giselle felt a rush of emotions wash over her. While the gifts were extravagant, it was Kylian’s words in the note that resonated the most deeply with her. He understood her struggles, and he still wanted her. She had been so focused on her insecurities, she hadn’t considered how he viewed her at all.

“Just give me a second,” Giselle said, her voice soft as she carefully placed the necklace back in its box, the sight of the handbag still making her giddy with excitement. She needed to think, to come to terms with what this meant for them.

“Do you think he went overboard?” she asked, her brow furrowing slightly. “I mean, this is crazy.”

“Are you kidding?” Tabitha chimed in. “He wouldn’t have sent you that if he didn’t mean it. This is a declaration, Gigi! He wants to show you how much he cares!”

A wave of warmth spread through her as she thought about Kylian's intentions. Perhaps his gifts were more than just extravagant items; they were a symbol of his commitment. But beneath the excitement, her insecurities still loomed, casting shadows over her heart.

Grabbing her phone in one hand as she held the jewelry box in her other, Giselle left her sisters gushing over her gifts in the kitchen making her way upstairs to her childhood bedroom in search of a little more privacy.

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts to find Kylian's number, uncertain of how he would react to speaking with her after her disappearing act in Paris.

As she hovered over his name, a wave of anxiety washed over her. Would he be angry? Disappointed? She took a deep breath, reminding herself of her mother's words. Love required vulnerability, and this was her chance to face her fears.

With a quick tap, she dialed his number, heart racing as it rang. One ring... two... three...

“Hello?” Kylian’s voice broke through the line, warm and inviting, but Giselle could sense the caution underlying his tone.

“Uh... hey, it’s me,” Giselle stammered, biting her lip as she paced her room, her hands shaking.

“Giselle,” he breathed, a mixture of relief and concern evident in his voice. “I’ve been worried about you. Are you okay?”

“I... I didn’t want to bother you.” Her voice cracked slightly, the weight of her emotions coming to the forefront. “But I got your gifts. They’re beautiful. Thank you. I'm so sorry for leaving like I did.”

Silence hung in the air, a heartbeat that stretched on forever. Giselle held her breath, unsure of how he would respond.

“Giselle, you didn’t need to leave without saying anything. I just want you to feel comfortable talking to me,” Kylian said gently. “I didn’t want to pressure you, but I was worried.”

“I know, and I was scared. Scared of ruining what we have,” she admitted, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I thought maybe it was easier to run away than face my insecurities.”

“You should never feel like you have to run from me,” he replied, a hint of firmness in his voice. “I care about you. I don’t want you to feel like you’re too much for me or that your past defines who you are. I want all of you, Giselle.”

His words wrapped around her like a warm embrace, and she felt her fears slowly melting away. “I’m sorry I pushed you away,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I just didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Giselle, you have to understand it’s hard for me too,” Kylian said. “Being vulnerable isn’t easy, but I want to be there for you. Whatever baggage you think you have, I want to help carry it with you.”

Tears streamed down Giselle's face, and for the first time since leaving Paris, she felt a flicker of hope igniting within her. “I want that too,” she said softly.

“Take the time you need,” Kylian reassured her. “Just don’t shut me out. I’d rather face this together than alone.”

“I promise,” Giselle replied, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

“Always,” he said, a smile evident in his voice.

As they spoke, Giselle felt the shadows of her insecurities begin to lift. She could see a path before her, one where love could thrive if she allowed herself to believe in it.

“Kylian, I love you but I can't accept the gifts; it's far too much,” Giselle exclaimed, her voice a mix of disbelief and admiration. The diamond necklace sparkled brilliantly in the soft, golden glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the large windows of her bedroom. Each facet of the diamonds caught the light in a dazzling display, casting tiny rainbows that danced across the walls, leaving her momentarily breathless at the sheer opulence of the gift.

“If you want to give it back, you know where to find me,” Kylian said, his voice smooth and teasing over the phone. There was a hint of playful mischief in his tone, a knowing smirk evident even through the receiver, as if he were leaning back in his chair with a relaxed confidence. The warmth of Miami's sun seemed to filter through the call, adding a vibrant energy to his words.

“I’m being serious,” Giselle continued, her heart racing as she held the necklace delicately between her fingers.

“So am I,” he drawled. “It belongs to you, If you want to give it back, come to me in Miami.”

“What happened to me needing to figure things out?” Giselle asked, falling into his trap, under his spell.

“When I asked you to be my girlfriend, it wasn't so you could figure things out on your own. It's about us figuring it out together,” he interjected, and Giselle could hear the sincerity in his voice. “Don’t let your fears dictate our relationship. I want you by my side, baggage and all.”

Giselle felt her heart swell at his words, and she found herself smiling through her tears. "Kylian, I—"

“Listen, I'm leaving for Miami tonight and I want to see you. I want you, Giselle.”

Giselle's heart raced as she processed his words. The thought of seeing Kylian again, of being in his presence, filled her with a mix of excitement and apprehension. The connection they shared was undeniable, yet her insecurities still loomed like shadows.

“Okay,” she whispered, her resolve slowly strengthening. “I’ll come.”

“Good,” he replied, his voice rich with warmth. “I’m sorry for the things I said, too,” Kylian apologized, Upon reflection he could have kicked himself for not remaining calm in the moment.

“Don’t apologize, Kylian. I needed to hear it,” Giselle said softly, her voice filled with understanding. “It’s okay to get upset, to have moments of frustration. I know I can be difficult sometimes, and I appreciate that you’re patient with me.”

Kylian let out a soft chuckle. “You’re not difficult, Giselle. You’re passionate, and that’s one of the things I love about you. Your fire, your intensity—they’re part of who you are. I just want to be there to support you, even when things get tough.”

Giselle felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. She realized that her insecurities had clouded her perception, making her doubt the strength of their connection. But Kylian’s patience and understanding were unwavering, and she knew that she was lucky to have someone who saw her for who she truly was. “I’m sorry for running away.”

“Just come back to me,” Kylian said softly, his voice a balm for her frayed nerves.

Giselle took a deep breath, letting the weight of her fears and doubts slip away. “I will. I promise.”

“I love you, Giselle,” Kylian said, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I love you too,” Giselle replied, her heart racing. Those words felt like a lifeline, a reminder that despite the turmoil within her, she could still connect with someone who truly saw her.

“Once you’re here, let’s take it slow. We can talk things through. I want you to feel secure in this,” Kylian reassured her. “No pressure, okay?”

“Okay,” Giselle whispered, feeling the knot in her stomach begin to loosen. “I just... I want to be good enough for you.”

“You are more than enough,” Kylian's tone was firm, echoing with kindness. “Trust that.”

As their conversation came to a close, Giselle felt a sense of determination rising within her. She wouldn’t hide from her feelings any longer. They’d face whatever obstacles came together, ready to embrace both the beautiful and the challenging parts of their relationship.

After hanging up, Giselle stood there for a moment, allowing her emotions to settle. She took a glance at the luxurious necklace in it’s box—not just reminders of Kylian’s affection, but symbols of a relationship that could flourish into the most beautiful thing if she would only let it.

A gentle knock echoed against Giselle’s bedroom door as Ayesha peeked around it, followed closely by Tabitha, both wearing hopeful smiles.

“Did you conversation go well?” Ayesha asked, walking over the the plush bed so she could take a seat on the edge of it.

“He gets to Miami tomorrow and he wants me there with him,” Giselle revealed.

“Are you going to go?” Tabitha asked excitedly.

“I kinda just dropped everything in Paris and came here, I'm so not prepared,” Giselle responded, biting her lip nervously. "I haven't thought it through."

“That's nothing a shopping trip can't fix,” Ayesha suggested, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Tabitha nodded in agreement, her enthusiasm infectious. “Grab your purse and we can head out right now,” she encouraged, holding out her hand for her younger sister to take.

Shopping with her sisters provided Giselle with the chance to clear her mind of all lingering doubts and focus the present, moving store to store until their hands couldn't carry anything else.

The next day, she was on a private jet to Miami with a stomach full of butterflies and angst weighing heavy on her shoulders.

She didn't know what to expect when she was finally face to face with Kylian again.

The flight was smooth, as was getting from the airport to the car in the early Miami morning, and the drive to the hotel was over sooner than her mind was ready for.

Giselle had barely slept the night before, her mind plagued with thoughts of the unknown. She was fearful that things could worsen even more than they already had.

Despite her nerves, Giselle felt her heart thumping in her chest as she made her way to Kylian's suite. The bellhop relieved her of her bags and took them to the room that Kylian had booked under her name to avoid any backlash from his coaches.

Giselle stood outside the door, her heart racing as she raised her hand to knock. She hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself before finally knocking softly. A few seconds later, the door swung open, revealing Kylian standing there, looking as handsome as ever.

His expression shifted from surprise to relief as he took her in, his eyes widening slightly in awe. "Giselle," he breathed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and joy.

“Kylian,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Without saying another word, he stepped forward and wrapped her in a warm embrace, pulling her tightly against him. The familiar scent of his cologne filled her senses, grounding her amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

"I'm so sorry I left," she murmured against his firm chest, her breath warm against his skin.

“All that matters is that you came back to me,” Kylian answered softly, his voice heavy with sleep as he pulled her into his room and kicked the door shut behind them.

Giselle's heart swelled at his words, a mix of relief and affection flooding her.

“Do you have your gifts?” he smirked tiredly, pulling the hat she wore from her head and carelessly tossing it to the floor.

Nodding her head, Giselle reached into her Chanel purse to pull out the jewelry box containing her necklack. “The purse is in my suitcase.”

“This is all we need, come with me,” Kylian drawled taking Giselle's hands into his, stepping backward down the hallway in his suite that led to the bedroom.

Once inside the bedroom, Kylian leaned against the door, pulling Giselle closer. The atmosphere felt charged with unspoken words and emotions swirling around them. He glanced down at the velvet box in her hands, his expression softening as he watched her.

“Open it,” he urged softly, his eyes glimmering with anticipation.

Taking a deep breath, Giselle carefully lifted the lid, revealing the stunning diamond necklace nestled inside. “It’s beautiful, Kylian. Thank you,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe.

“I wanted you to have something that reminded you of how precious you are to me,” he said, stepping closer as she held up the necklace, letting the light dance across the diamonds. “Let me put it on.”

Giselle felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach as she turned around, allowing Kylian to fasten the necklace around her neck. The cool metal against her skin felt like a tangible reminder of their connection. As he clasped it in place, she could feel his breath on her neck, causing shivers to run down her spine.

“Giselle,” Kylian murmured, a hint of vulnerability in his tone, “I want to make sure you know how much you mean to me. I’m not just sending gifts; I’m committing to you. I want to face our challenges together.”

She turned to face him, eyes glistening with emotion. “I want that too,” she whispered.

“You have me,” Kylian said, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’m here for you, no matter what. We’ll figure everything out together, I promise. But you have to let me in. Share your fears, let me carry some of that weight, too.”

Giselle took a moment, absorbing his words. The sincerity in his voice and the warmth of his gaze made her heart swell with hope. "It’s just... I’ve been hurt before and it's hard for me to trust.”

Kylian nodded, understanding etched on his face as he took her hand into his, leading her into the bathroom.

Turning Giselle so that they both stood in front of the bathroom mirror, Kylian's lips found the delicate curve of Giselle's neck as he gripped her hips, pulling her body flush against his. The diamond necklace around her neck shone obnoxiously under the bathroom lighting.

“You're so beautiful,” Kylian murmured. “I only want you,” he continued into her ear as his hands found the hem of her oversized hoodie.

Kylian's heart raced as he held Giselle close, the warmth of her body pressing against his igniting a fire within him. He gazed at their reflection in the mirror, captivated by the sight of their bodies intertwined again. His hands roamed over her smooth skin, savoring every inch of her as he slowly lifted the hoodie, revealing her perfect breasts.

His lips trailed down her neck, placing soft kisses along her collarbone as his hands cupped her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples. Kylian's breath quickened, his heart pounding with anticipation, burning with a hunger that could not be contained.

"Look how beautiful you are," he growled, his voice deep and commanding.

Giselle's breath hitched as Kylian's lips caressed her neck, his strong hands exploring her body with a hunger that made her knees weak. She could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the solidity of his muscular frame pressing against her back. The sensation of his thumbs teasing her nipples sent jolts of pleasure coursing through her, making her arch into his touch.

"Kylian," she gasped, her voice a breathy whisper. Her hands covered his, encouraging his touch as she watched their reflection in the mirror. The way his eyes devoured her, the raw desire etched on his face, was intoxicating. Giselle's cheeks flushed with arousal, her body aching for more of his touch.

Pulling the hoodie over her head, Kylian straightened the diamond pendant in the center of her chest before his hands were on her again, tracing her waist as he admired her in the jewelry.

“I'm so proud to call you mine,” Kylian drawled. “I'm so honoured that you chose me,” he continued, his hand slipping inside the waistband of her leggings as their eyes met in the mirror's reflection. “I belong to you, Giselle.”

Kylian's fingers slipped beneath the waistband of Giselle's leggings, teasing the sensitive skin just above her hips. He could feel her tremble at his touch, her breath coming in short gasps as he explored her body. His other hand remained on her breast, kneading the soft flesh as his thumb circled her nipple.

"You're mine," he whispered possessively against her ear, his voice low and husky. "I'll never let anyone else have you." His fingers dipped lower, brushing against the lace of her panties. "Tell me you're mine, Giselle. Say it."

Kylian's heart raced as he waited for her response, his body tense with anticipation. The mirror reflected their entwined forms, the contrast of his dark skin against her pale flesh sending a surge of desire through him. He wanted to mark her, claim her as his own in every way possible.

His fingers pressed against the damp fabric of her panties, feeling the heat emanating from between her legs. Kylian groaned softly, his arousal growing painful in its confinement.

Giselle's head fell back against Kylian's shoulder as his fingers teased her through the thin lace of her panties. A soft moan escaped her lips, her hips rocking involuntarily against his touch. She could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against her backside, igniting a fire within her.

"I'm yours," she breathed, her voice trembling with desire. "Only yours, Kylian." Her hands covered his, encouraging him to explore further as she watched their reflection in the mirror.

Kylian's breath hitched as Giselle's words washed over him, filling him with a primal satisfaction. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her leggings and panties, slowly dragging them down her legs. He kicked them aside once they hit the floor, leaving Giselle completely bare.

His hand returned to her center, parting her folds and delving deeper, his fingers slick against her arousal.

“I brought you this necklace because the diamond made me think of you,” he mused catching it between his teeth. “But it doesn't compare.”

Giselle was the rarest jewel in Kylian's eyes; to him, she was incomparable. If she ever needed reassurance, he would offer it with every fiber of his being.

She was rendered speechless, her body over come with both pleasure and desire as she melted against him, enchanted by their reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Kylian's fingers moved expertly, circling Giselle's clit and plunging deep inside her. He could feel her walls tightening around him, her hips bucking in rhythm with his movements. His other hand continued to knead her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple between his fingers.

"You're so wet for me," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "So responsive to my touch." Kylian's lips trailed along her shoulder blade, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

Giselle's moans grew louder, echoing off the bathroom walls as Kylian's fingers worked their magic. She could feel the tension building within her, coiling tighter and tighter until she was sure she would snap.

"Kylian," she gasped, her voice a desperate plea. "I need you inside me."

His lips curved into a smirk against her skin as he withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean. The taste of Giselle on his tongue only fueled his desire.

"Turn around," Kylian gruffly commanded.

Giselle turned to face Kylian, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. Her eyes locked onto his, filled with a burning desire that mirrored his own. She could see the hunger in his gaze, the primal need that consumed him.

Kylian's hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him. He could feel her heart racing beneath the diamond necklace, matching the frantic beat of his own. His lips crashed against hers in a fierce, passionate kiss, claiming her mouth as thoroughly as he planned to claim the rest of her.

Sitting Giselle up on the bathroom counter, Kylian stood between her legs as he pulled her to the edge grinding his hips against hers, his arousal evident through the fabric of his shorts. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck as he reached for the hem of his jersey. In one swift motion, he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside, revealing his chiseled torso.

Giselle's hands roamed over Kylian's muscular chest and abs, savoring the feel of his warm skin beneath her fingertips. She leaned forward, pressing kisses along his collarbone and down his sternum. Her tongue flicked out, tasting the salt on his skin as she explored every inch of him.

Kylian's hands tangled in Giselle's hair, guiding her movements as she kissed and licked a path down his body. His breath hitched when she reached the waistband of his shorts, her fingers deftly unbuttoning them and pushing them down along with his boxers.

His erection sprang free, thick and hard against Giselle's stomach. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip as she looked up at him through hooded eyes.

Giselle's heart raced as she gazed up at Kylian, his impressive physique on full display. She felt a surge of desire course through her veins, her body aching to be closer to him. Her hand continued to explore his length, marveling at the way he pulsed and hardened beneath her touch.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Giselle leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the tip of his erection. She heard Kylian's sharp intake of breath above her, encouraging her further. Slowly, she wrapped her lips around him, taking him inch by inch into the warm wetness of her mouth.

Kylian's hands gripped the edge of the countertop tightly, his knuckles turning white as Giselle began to move. She set a steady rhythm, saliva and pre-cum dripping from her as she took him, being purposely messy in her execution as she maintained eye contact with him. The sounds of his labored breathing and occasional muttered curses spurred her on.

“Spit on it,” Kylian growled.

Giselle pulled back, a strand of saliva connecting her bottom lip to the tip of Kylian's erection. She gazed up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of innocence and mischief. Slowly, she opened her mouth and spat onto his length, the saliva coating him from base to tip.

Kylian groaned at the sight, his hips bucking slightly forward. "Fuck, that's it," he breathed, his voice strained with desire. "Take me back into your mouth, Giselle. Show me how much you want it."

Giselle didn't hesitate. She wrapped her lips around him once more, the added lubrication allowing her to take him even deeper. Her head bobbed up and down as she sucked him off, her tongue swirling around his sensitive flesh.

Kylian's fingers tangled in Giselle's hair, guiding her movements as she pleasured him with her mouth.

"Just like that," Kylian groaned, his hips moving in sync with Giselle's bobbing head. "You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

His grip on her hair tightened as he felt his release building. "I'm going to come," he warned, his voice strained. "Pull back if you don't want it in your mouth."

But Giselle didn't pull back. Instead, she took him even deeper, her nose pressing against his abdomen as she swallowed around him.

With a final thrust of his hips, Kylian came undone. He spilled himself into Giselle's mouth, his hot seed filling her throat as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

Giselle swallowed every drop, her eyes watering slightly from the intensity of it all.

Kylian was in awe as Giselle looked up at him, pulling her to her feet he guided her body towards the shower, his teeth sinking into her neck.

Kylian's lips and teeth marked Giselle's neck, leaving a trail of reddened skin in their wake. He could feel her pulse racing beneath his mouth, her breath coming in short gasps as he explored her with his lips and tongue.

His hands slid down to her thighs, gripping them tightly as he positioned himself at her entrance. Giselle's legs tightened around him, urging him closer.

Giselle cried out at the sudden intrusion, her nails digging into Kylian's shoulders. The sensation of being stretched and filled by him was overwhelming, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body.

Kylian groaned as he bottomed out inside Giselle, savoring the feeling of being surrounded by her warmth. He gave her a moment to adjust before slowly pulling out and thrusting back in, setting a steady rhythm.

"No more running," he breathed, his lips brushing against hers, as he punctuated his words with a skilled flex of the hips, the tip of his cock kissing against her cervix.

“No more running,” Giselle mewled, repeating Kylian's words as her eyes glossed over with tears of unadulterated pleasure.

Kylian's hips moved with a purpose, each thrust deliberate and calculated to bring Giselle to the brink of ecstasy. He could feel her walls tightening around him, her body trembling with the impending release.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "Say it again."

"I'm yours," Giselle gasped, her voice barely audible over the sound of their bodies colliding. "Only yours, Kylian."

Kylian's lips crashed against hers in a fierce kiss, swallowing her cries as he drove into her harder and faster. The water from the shower rained down on them, mingling with the sweat that coated their skin.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips, his movements becoming more urgent. "I fucking love you so much."

Pushing open the shower door, Kylian didn't even care to turn off the water as he stepped out, making a beeline for the bed. Lying Giselle on the edge, he pinned her legs back, groaning into her mouth as he slipped deeper.

Kylian's hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt inside Giselle's warmth. The sensation was overwhelming, her walls gripping him like a velvet vice. He groaned deeply, his forehead resting against hers as he fought to maintain control.

"You feel incredible," he panted, his breath mingling with hers. "So tight and perfect."

Giselle's back arched off the bed, her fingers digging into Kylian's shoulders as he filled her completely. The pleasure was intense, bordering on pain, but she never wanted it to end.

"Kylian," she gasped, her voice trembling with need. "Please..."

He understood what she was asking for without her having to say it. Pulling back slowly, he thrust forward again, setting a steady rhythm that had them both moaning in unison.

"Yes," Giselle hissed, wrapping her legs around Kylian's waist and pulling him closer. "Just like that."

Kylian's movements became more urgent, his hips moving with a desperate hunger. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, mingling with their labored breaths and passionate moans.

"Harder," Giselle begged, her nails raking down Kylian's back. "Fuck me harder."

Kylian obliged, pulling out and flipping Giselle onto her stomach in one swift motion.

Kylian's hands gripped Giselle's hips tightly as he positioned himself behind her. With a powerful thrust, he entered her again, burying himself deep inside her warmth. Giselle cried out, pushing back against him as he set a relentless pace, tangling his fingers in her hair.

Kylian's grip on Giselle's hair tightened as he pulled her head back, his other hand gripping her hip with bruising force. His thrusts became more aggressive, the sound of their bodies colliding filling the room.

"That's it," he growled, his voice low and commanding as he landed a stinging slap on her ass. "Take it all."

Giselle could only moan in response, her body trembling with each powerful thrust. She felt completely at Kylian's mercy, and she loved every second of it.

Suddenly, Kylian pulled out, flipping Giselle onto her back once more. He crawled over her, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at her.

"I want to see your face when you come," he said huskily, positioning himself at her entrance once more.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, Kylian entered Giselle again. He kept his pace steady but deep, grinding against her with each movement. His lips captured hers in a passionate kiss as he continued to fill her completely.

“You’re not allowed to walk away,” he groaned into Giselle’s mouth.

Giselle's body trembled beneath Kylian's as he filled her completely, his steady rhythm driving her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel the tension coiling tightly within her, ready to snap at any moment.

"I won't," she gasped, her voice barely audible over the sound of their bodies colliding. "I promise."

Kylian's lips curved into a smirk against hers, his hips moving with a newfound urgency. He could feel Giselle's walls tightening around him, her body preparing for its impending release.

"That's my girl," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Cum for me, mon amour. Let me feel you."

With a final thrust and a twist of his hips, Kylian sent Giselle spiraling over the edge. Her body convulsed beneath him as she cried out his name, her nails digging into his back as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

Kylian's chest heaved as he collapsed onto the bed beside Giselle, his body slick with sweat. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close as they both caught their breath.

"Come here," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as he pulled her body flush against his.

Giselle snuggled into Kylian's embrace, her head resting on his chest as she listened to the steady beat of his heart. She felt safe and cherished in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt her again.

"I love you," she whispered, tracing patterns on his skin with her fingertips. "So much."

Kylian's heart swelled at Giselle's words. He tightened his grip on her, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply.

"I love you too," he said softly. "More than anything."

They lay there in comfortable silence for a few moments, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

“I was thinking…” Kylian trailed off, his voice a lazy drawl while she ran her fingers up and down her spine.

“Hmm?” Giselle hummed, her eyelids growing heavier by the second as raised her head to meet his eyes.

“You should invite your family to the next match,” Kylian suggested, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You want to meet my parents?” Giselle asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

Kylian chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I'm all in, I told you.”

Giselle felt a rush of warmth at Kylian's words, her heart imbued with affection. The idea of him wanting to meet her family filled her with excitement. “That means a lot to me, Kylian. I think they’d love you.”

“Good,” he replied, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her lips. “I want to show them just how special you are to me.”

A smile spread across Giselle's face as she nestled closer to him. “You already have,” she whispered, her fingers intertwining with his.

[rusty-noodle]

‎‧₊˚✧ placement ✧˚₊‧

monster trio x gn!reader

Synopsis: where the monster trio boys' favorite place to kiss you. CW: Mild sexual themes/suggestiveness, Biting / playful physicality, Mild possessiveness, pet names, light NSFW, no use of y/n. Not proofread! Luffy:269 Sanji:266 Zoro:262

Luffy

-˚₊neck and stomach

He doesn't care where he kisses you, as long as he gets to, but the easiest option is, well, your neck

your leaning against the ship's railing, basking in the warm sun and quiet breeze, when two long, stretched arms wrap around you from behind, casing you in his grip

"Luffy..!" you yelp a little startled as he buries his face into your neck, practically slamming kisses into you

"Hiii!" he giggled against your neck

You sigh and rub one of the arms that's wrapped around you. "Hi Luffy..."

Or when he's wrapped around you like a koala, legs hoisted up on your hips, he's leaving long, gentle kisses on your neck.

When you two are alone...

Your shirt is awkwardly bunched up at your waist, fluffy toying at your sides. He leans down and kisses your stomach, it's sweet and gentle until he either 1. bites you for fun or 2. gives your stomach raspberries

"Luffy!" you giggle, "that tickles!"

All he does is continue, his hands prying at your sides.

Sanji

-.✧hand and sternum

Sanji loves to kiss you in general. It would be hard to pick only one place. His kisses are delicate, a reminder to his lover how much he adores them, and he isn't afraid to show others either

He intertwined your fingers together and brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles

"Darling, you're so perfect," he said, his eyes sparkling with passion.

He left a few more kisses on your knuckles, even taking your other hand to serve that one with love, too.

Now, when you two are alonnnee, he doesn't have to hold back on you, he doesn't have to maintain his gentle and respectful reputation.

His chuckle vibrated against your sternum as he left wet kisses along your chest,

"way better than kiss'n you're hand mon amour..." he mumbled into your skin, his hands trailing up your sides, grazing over your ribs.

He likes to bite you sometimes; it's not necessarily kissing, but he enjoys your reaction to it.

He could feel how fast your heart beat under him when he touched you, that's what he craved, feeling your chest pounding when he leaned down to kiss the middle of your chest.

Zoro

‎‧-₊forehead and thigh

Zoro isn't one for public displays of affection. He prefers that he's the only one to see you all hot and bothered from his kisses. But when you ask, or he wants to

"Zoro.." you hum coming up to hug him, "I'm going with Nami to shop on the island." Looking up at him, you smile as he leans down to softly kiss your forehead

"Don't buy useless stuff, alright?" he murmured, lips not leaving your skin just yet

"yes yes... I won't," you giggle as you pull away. bidding you farewell\

It's a simple spot, he can't devoid you of all his love when others are around. It's a reminder he still loves.

And when you two get much-needed alone time

Your leg is hoisted over his shoulder, his hand keeping it in place as he's leaning down to kiss your inner thigh, sucking at it and leaving marks, no ones around, and no one else should see the red marks he's leaving on you now. But he doesn't complain if anyone does see, it's just confirmation that you're not up for grabs

His mouth trails further up your thigh, coming up to your hip bone

He does what he wants, you his and he can kiss you wherever he wants (unless you ask otherwise)

--------------

Guess who got lazy writing this?

ME!!

I hope you enjoyed it, and I really had no idea how to CW this, so if I missed anything, please tell me! muah

-noodle

[bearbackyard]

Wild Card - Bobby x Reader | Prologue

I have found only ONE Bobby fic and I am (poorly) attempting to rectify that.

No warnings.

Summary:

Music, sound, it was your everything.

So the day you found your baby cousins notebook was the day you knew she’d be something golden.

or

Zoey's older cousin, her main supporter throughout her teen years, ends up befriending and falling for her manager.

Word count: 1545 here for ao3 link! part 2

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Bright lights, flashing, jumping. The banging of electronic drums, the thumping of a thousand hearts beating at once as friends embrace each other in tears. Screams, shrieks, and squeals as fans reprocess the fact that they are here. Strangers become friends as they exchange specially made bracelets. Sections cheer and gush as couples get engaged during the climax of slow, mushy love songs.

God, you loved it. 

This had been your life before you were even a thought. Your parents had met at a concert in their teens. They got engaged at a concert, your mother told your father about her pregnancy at a concert and heaven knows that pregnancy wouldn’t stop her from being at the barricade. 

There was never a time where music wasn’t playing in your house. There was always something lingering in the background. What genre depended on the day. Your parents were quite literally any kind of music people, including country. They taught you about how culture impacted and created the genres that existed today. The fundamentals, the first songs from the beginning of time.

You could sing, but you preferred instruments. Playing with people, backing them up, supporting them. It sent sparks through you when your instrument harmonized with the singer. Orchestra, jazz band, marching band. If someone in the school choir needed an accompanist, you were the first person they asked. “Wild card” is what they called you. Five seconds and you could play anything on an instrument you don’t even know the name of.

Eventually you started recording your own stuff. You learned the ins and outs of various audio mixing programs which eventually let you compose unique backing tracks for the dance program. It was in your junior year that the stage tech teacher approached you. You learned how to take care of the theater you played in and eventually, got you into managing the soundboard.

Music, sound, it was your everything. 

So the day you found your baby cousins notebook was the day you knew she’d be something golden.

You remember the day she was born. Your mother, her fathers oldest sister, her “first kid” she joked, had to talk him down over the phone while she sped to the hospital as fast as she can. You remember laughing at your mom telling him to calm down because “it’s not like you’re the one about to push a baby out of your-!” 

The hospital was boring, but when your uncle said you could come inside and meet her, you could feel the world shift. With good manners, you checked on your aunt first and then you saw her. 

Your Hummingbird. Your Zoey. The cutest little thing you’d ever seen. As she grew, she was the kindest soul you’d ever met. Always offering to help, always sticking it out for the long run. 

You were always asking your mom to call your aunt to check on her and Zoey just in case she needed help. Maybe that’s why her mom tried pushing you back, pushing you away. 

When Zoey was around 12 or 13, her maternal grandmother came from Korea to live with her. The air in the house changed. Your uncle and aunt began arguing, fighting that Zoey should be more immersed in her culture. She started calling you every night. It got worse when her mom and grandma started ignoring her until she learned Korean. You’d pick her up after your classes were over for the day just so that she’d get out of the house for a while. 

“You know,” you started. Today’s menu was ice cream. It’d been hot all week and you hadn’t had the time to pick her up due to finals being so close. “When I was learning Spanish, I used to listen to the old boleros Claudia would play in the shop.” Claudia, the woman who ran the little bodega at the end of your street. Wanting the experience, she hired you right when you turned 15. “I mean, I didn’t have much of a choice when I was working, but I would listen to them at home too. We just need to find your grove and run with it.” You nudged her arm as she pushed her ice cream around with her spoon.

“I’ll learn with you.” Her eyes lit up a little as she turned to smile at you. 

“Really?” Zoey leaned over a bit. She looked tired and a bit sad. The kid was only 13 and she was already burnt out and exhausted from everything.

“Of course. Anything for my little hummingbird.” You ruffled her hair a bit after setting your now empty cup aside. “Now how about we go check out that game store you were eyeballing earlier?”

So, every time you picked her up you’d spend a small while practicing Korean. A group she was particularly drawn to was a group called Sunlight Sisters. It lead you both down a long rabbit hole and eventually, an obsession with Kpop. Zoey especially loved the rappers of the newer groups. 

But of course, things don’t stay good for long. When her parents divorced, her grandma wanted to move back to Korea and her mom had to take care of her. Zoey didn’t want to leave. She just started high school and now she had to deal with the idea of moving across the ocean? Maybe it was you stepping in that made your aunt try and push you away, but you were able to argue that she should be able to at least finish high school here in the States. 

You could tell the change in her demeanor when her mom left. She loved her dad, of course, but it hurt. You and Zoey still hung out a bunch, but she began pulling away and getting more in her head a bit. Your uncle had to pick up more shifts to stay on top of bills so you began picking her up from school. 

“So, how was school today?” Really? That's the best you could come up with?

“Oh, it's going good. I have this really big project coming up.” She went on to retell what was going on in school while her favorite Sunlight Sisters song played in the background. 

As the car pulled up to her house, she said her goodbyes and grabbed her stuff, promising to call later. It wasn’t until she’d already gone into the house did you see the notebook that got left on the floor of the passenger seat. When you reached out to pick it up, a couple of loose pages fell out. One in particular stood out to you. There were doodles all over the page. A sketch of her singing with stars and something written in Korean.

“I really need to keep up on my reading skills…” you muttered to yourself as you glanced over the words at the top. There were a bunch of eraser marks and it was just a concept but it looked like… lyrics? 

Okay like I know I ramble

But when shootin’ my words I go rambo

Took blood, sweat, and tears 

to look natural

That’s how it’s done, done, done

Shuffling through a few more pages, you were shocked. Hummingbird always had a knack for song, but these lyrics? Songs nearly completed; they were gold. It made tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you put the loose pages back in the notebook neatly and rushed out the car. Zoey had been stepping out of the house in a hurry once you got to the porch.

“You wrote these?” Her eyes darted between you and the notebook as she started to get embarrassed. “Hummingbird, these are amazing!” You grabbed her shoulders as her expression began to change into shock.

“You really think so?” 

“I know so.” 

You had always been her number one supporter but now? You were her number one fan. You helped her find the beats and taught her everything you knew about mixing. She was able to push out one, then two, then three songs all written by herself in the makeshift recording studio your parents had. 

Her rapping? Genius unmatched. You’d take her to freestyle events and she’d tear them up every time. Anytime she opened her mouth, it was like she would touch your soul. 

Then Celine came along. 

You were both so shell shocked to see her in person let alone her niece, a sweet girl named Rumi. She’d been searching for a lyricist for a new group called Huntr/x and thought that Zoey would be the perfect fit. Zoey was over the moon, of course. Once she moved to Korea with her mom, her training would begin. You encouraged her all the way but something felt… odd. 

Rumi looked like she was carrying the world on her shoulders. It wasn’t hard to tell that something had been bugging the poor girl. You just hoped she was okay.

Once Zoey had graduated, it took them a year and a half to debut. She had called you as much as she could, asking for tips on new songs to perfect the perfect debut album. 

And now you're here. Seven long years and you finally got to see your Hummingbird on stage. 

[deepintothelight]

A prisoner in another body ( prologue)

Heavily inspired by "Ancient Dreams in a modern land" by electricgg ( pls check them out) and someone else batfam x reader x invincible

Dying we never my idea of a vacation nor was transferring bodies with a person yet here you were, In another dimension, stranded.

"MARK!"

that was the last words you spoke before being launched into one of angstroms levy's portals.

The screech of tearing metal and the blare of the invincible variants fighting were the last things i registered before the world dissolved into a blinding white. One moment,i was fighting one of insane and blood thirsty variants along side mark. The next, i was tumbling through an impossible void, the familiar G-forces replaced by a nauseating disorientation.

I felt sick and unsure.

I landed with a jarring thud, the impact driving the air from my lungs and rattling her teeth.

I groaned. It wasn’t as painful as I expected, I had a broken arm from before so adrenaline still pumped in me though it slowly trickled away.

My head spun and the world around me rattle, light flickered and everyinf shifted.

My once tore hero costume flickered into a matching pair of pjs like the once I wore back home and the blood that stained the floor magically vanished, the pain didn’t though.

Groaning, i pushed myself up, my limbs aching with a dull protest. What the hell had just happend and where the fukc did levy send me?

Slowly my surroundings slowly swam into focus. I was in a room? Rich, dark wood paneling lined the walls, interspersed with what looked like intricate tapestries.

This was it? I thought he had sent me to a dimension that had dinosaurs or aliens?

A fire crackled softly in a grand hearth, casting flickering shadows that danced with the dim, ambient light. The air was heavy with the scent of old books and something faintly floral.

Smelled like mold and rich people.

This was no military hangar, no alien planet i recognized. This was… somewhere else entirely.

I need to assess my surroundings, find out more about the place he’d sent me and that where my eyes landed on a video filled with light.

Around were family pictures of me? Standing with people I had never meet before. It looks like family photos yet I don’t remember taking them. Along with what seemed like school achievements platsted all around the wall. You could barely see the plain oak walls.

The hell?

I walked closer to the window, still feeling wierd wearing a sleeping outfit when just 10 minutes ago I was fighting for my life.

Crunch.

“Huh”?. My eyes landed on the floor and lifted up my foot.

“ fuck fuck fuck” I panicked, picking up the small metal and electronic pieces from the ground.

Weren’t these thing made to be invincible?

Damn it.

My comm was on the ground, broken. My hope of contacting Cecil or even mark desipated.

“Just great. Il try to fix it later.” The stuff the tiny pieces in an empty drawer near by.

I groan in annoyance taking in the soft perfume smell before being hit by a wave of cold air by the window.

Outside was a city. A plain city, slightly far away as if detached from where I stood but still a normal city.

Where was I ? Could it be I’m still in the same earth as mark? no. that couldnt be the case right? Levy would never make it that simple.

My costume was gone, my comms dead or better broken into pieces and I was tired, real tired. I was stranded, utterly and irrevocably.

Just as I panicked a soft, deliberate knock echoed through the room. Three firm raps, followed by a pause. I froze, my heart leaping into my throat.

I was in no condition to fight being I was worn out and civilian clothes, no mask in sight.

Still I readyed my fist and inched closer to the door.

Who could that be? A rescuer? A captor? Before i could formulate a plan, or even a coherent thought, another knock.

This one sounded more… expectant.

“Miss [name]?” A muffled voice called out.

They knew my name? Who the hell is this.

“ what do you want from me?” i yelled out, cuasis and ready to fight at any moment.

Getting a motive or explanation from him was needed before attacking.

A small sigh could be heard from the other side of the door.

“I was awakened by the ruckus you had made in your room. Are you alright in there”

“………”

I said nothing. What was going on. It’s like he didn’t even know—.

That when it me.

The photos.

The room.

Even the pjs and city below.

Could it be I was in another dimension, in a different life maybe.

“ yes?”

I say. Did he believe I was a different person. If so maybe until I could find a way home I should pretend to be someone else.

If they expected someone, perhaps i could be that someone, at least for a little while. I cleared my throat, my voice a little rough. "Yeah I’m fine just tired." I reassured , my tone hopefully sounding more regal.

terrified.

The voice on the other side paused before speaking again.

“ no worries ms[name]. Luckily for you master Bruce and the others aren’t home yet. Make sure to be ready by 8am, I’m expecting you to be at the family breakfast ” He said before walking away.

I confirmed once more as heard his footsteps slowly fade away.

Family breakfast. Sureeee. I panicked. I was mindwave, or wave for short. My best friends were mark and eve. I worked with the teen team before being moved with them to becoming the guardians.

And for now, I was Madam Whoever-They-Thought-I-Was.

Thank god I had the same name here as well as most dimensions or I would be doomed.

I layed back down on the very very soft bed and stared at the ceiling just holding another portal would take me away.

It never came.

It was night so For now il sleep too tired and muscle aching( almost broke arm too) and maybe il wake up from the weird nightmare.

That night I prayed mark would rescue me maybe even robot? Anyone.

[raekensluver]

still my home

masterlist | main masterlist

description: after a painful fight, you leave with nowhere to go - only to be quietly reminded that harry’s always known how to find you.

pairing: childhood best friend!harry lewis x fem!reader

contains: angst/comfort, childhood best friends to.....?

song rec: my tears ricochet by taylor swift- "and i can go anywhere i want. anywhere i want, just not home."

w.c: 750

the slam of the door was too loud, too final.

it echoed through harry's flat like the closing scene of a bad play, the kind where everyone ends up a little bit broken. you didn’t mean to slam it. not really. but your hands had been shaking and your voice had cracked and all you could think was: i need to get out.

harry had been your best friend since the two of you were kids in guernsey. scraped knees and bike rides, whispered secrets under blankets at sleepovers, your name always the first one out of his mouth when he needed to rant, and vice versa. somewhere along the way, it had shifted. the touches got longer, the looks heavier. and then, like it had been inevitable, you were his.

his girl. his best friend. his heart.

and now you were out in the street, hoodie pulled tight around your face, the night air biting at your cheeks, your phone heavy in your pocket with no idea where to go.

because home was harry’s place.

and right now, you couldn’t go home.

"you didn’t even think to invite me," you had said, your voice shaking with that awful mixture of hurt and disbelief. harry had blinked like you were speaking another language. "what? to the pub? it wasn’t a big deal – just last minute drinks." "yeah. in london. the city we both live in. where we’re both friends with everyone there. you didn’t even ask." "it wasn’t anything serious– " "harry, it hurt. not because you went out. because you didn’t want me there. because it didn’t even cross your mind." he’d looked away, jaw tense. "you’re overreacting," he muttered. and that had said more than anything else. "overreacting? are you serious? you’ve been doing this for weeks. disappearing. brushing things off. acting like i’m just… background noise." he’d rubbed the back of his neck, defensive. "you know i’ve just been busy. work’s a lot right now. you always take this stuff so personally." "because it is personal!" you snapped. "we used to talk every day. and now you forget to text me back for two. you make plans without even thinking about me. i feel like i’m losing you and you don’t even notice." he hadn’t said anything. and that silence? it was the worst part. "you didn’t think. and that’s the part that really fucking stings."

you wandered the pavement with no destination, everything muffled except for the wind and the chaos in your chest. your hands trembled as you finally pulled out your phone. the contacts list blurred through your tears.

you scrolled. stopped. scrolled again.

there wasn’t anyone.

because harry had always been the one you called. when things went wrong, when your heart ached, when the world didn’t make sense. but now the hurt was because of him.

you locked the screen. dropped the phone into your pocket. wrapped your arms around yourself and kept walking, streets blurring into one another, the city a smear of noise and light.

after a while, you found a bench on a quiet side street and sank onto it. it wasn’t familiar. not really. but you’d come here a few times when you needed to breathe. because the view - of the skyline, the subtle stretch of buildings glowing under streetlights - always calmed something in your chest.

you sighed, curling your knees to your chest. "it’s dumb," you muttered to no one. "but i love the view."

you didn’t hear the car at first.

didn’t look up until footsteps slowed in front of you.

harry stood there, breathless, hair messy, eyes wide.

you blinked, confused. "how did you-"

"i figured," he said, voice soft. "you’ve always said you like this bench. because of the view."

he sat beside you without touching you, without assuming.

"i don’t expect you to forgive me right now," he said softly. "i just didn’t want you sitting out here alone."

you looked at him. he looked like shit.

you swallowed hard. "i didn’t know where else to go."

he turned to you, eyes soft. "i didn’t know what to do when you weren’t here."

silence.

then, "why didn’t you think of me?"

he sighed. "i don’t know. and i hate that i don’t. maybe i took for granted that you’d always be there. and that’s not fair. i don’t want to be the kind of person who forgets his person."

your voice was barely there. "you made me feel invisible."

"then i’ll do whatever it takes to remind you how seen you are. how much i love you. i’ve loved you since you punched a boy in year 7 for calling me names. i’m an idiot, but i’m your idiot. if you still want me."

you didn’t speak.

you leaned into him.

his arms came around you instantly, like muscle memory. he pressed a kiss to your temple, shaky and slow.

"you’re my home," you whispered.

his breath caught.

"then let me keep you safe this time. properly. no more fucking up."

you didn’t answer.

you didn’t need to.

his hand in yours was enough. for now.

and later, when he led you back to the flat and unlocked the door, it didn’t feel like walking into broken pieces. it felt like rebuilding. it felt like home.

because it was him.

[mechncheese]

Also writing stuff for the Science Cont. has been such a challenge— I’ve never worked with so many characters before so balancing everything has been wild. I’ve laid out how I want this story to begin and how I want it to end and all that’s left is all stuff inbetween (WHICH IS A LOT)

Within this story, I have many moving components but to sum it up simply; there are two different plots happening at the same time, plot A (simply dubbed “Ambition” because it takes place with the scientists off Cybertron) and plot B (dubbed “Cybertron” because.. it takes place on Cybertron) and eventually the two plots come together

Ambition in a nutshell is more light-hearted; Character hijinks, It’s camp and corny

Cybertron deals with the heavier stuff; it’s more gritty and cruel. Characters go through it big time.

I know it seems like I only ever focus on the scientists since I talk a lot about them and their hijinks though it’s mostly because it’s easier since they’re in One Setting (stuck on a moon) and forced to spend time with each other and there’s only 6 of them vs Cybertron’s bajillion characters with their own intricacies, friendgroups, and dynamics in a setting that changes as it progresses ! I’m leaving most of it as a surprise (code for, I’m still cooking and don’t have the answers to everything)