#any of it again is the only thing moving me forward

[lvis44]

Talk To Me // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (Minors DNI), Angst, Mostly unestablished relationship, Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it), Alcohol, Not edited

Word Count: 9.6k+

Summary: It's hard to know what someone else is thinking when you don't let them into your own thoughts, but Lewis will certainly show you exactly what's on his mind If you let him.

Notes: Lmao so my poll was pointless, here's all of it all at once! My little fingers were flying tonight! Some fluff, some angst, some smut, followed by some more fluff, just what we all love. I don't have much to say about this one other than ENJOY! I'll be working on a one shot based on that stupid little gladiator fit, the outfit did nothing for me but THE ARMS AND THE FACE??? best believe we need a lil something based on that. Love y'all!!!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

“I’m so sorry I have to cut this short hun.” Lewis said as he wiped his mouth across the table, his eyes truly apologetic.

“I’m just glad I got to see you for a few minutes while you were here.” You said softly, your heeled foot brushing his calf under the table, your words coming out much shyer than your actions.

It wasn’t that you and Lewis were new to each other, far from it. You had met him at the beginning of his season and now here he was, just a few weeks away from moving to Ferrari. Every break he had he’d made time to see you, yet he’d been a perfect gentleman the entire time. Yes, the pet names were laid on in excess and the touches had begun to linger a few months ago but you were becoming restless for more. You really couldn’t blame yourself when he had the audacity to sit across the table from you looking so incredible, being so sweet every time he suggested you get together. Yes, you may have turned him down at first but this was getting ridiculous, there's no way you two were not on the same page.

“I don’t want to cut anything short, I wish I could stay, I really do,” He paused as he reached forward to grab your hand, “but I have a red carpet in like two days and I have to meet with Eric.”

“Mmm,kay” you huffed out infantly.

“Nah, don’t do that, I’ll see you before I head out, I promise.” He smirked at your attitude, squeezing your hand.

“So you don’t have any time for a pretty girl in between dinner and Eric?” You asked, attempting to layer the sultry and lust in your voice as you let your foot wander higher.

“Y/N.” His voice came out strained but stern, his strong hand grabbing your leg, “I cut it close by even getting dinner with you tonight, just couldn’t stay away.”

“So it sounds like I win over Eric.” You giggled, leaning forward on the table, your calf still in his strong palm.

“Don’t do this to me,” He groaned, “Listen I can leave the tab open, just don’t go home with anyone unless you’re calling me.”

“What if I call you in like 10 minutes?” you giggled again, his hand snaking up your calf despite how composed he was trying to stay.

“Y/N.” He warned, his voice low but his hand never ceasing its exploration.

“Well you go have fun with business things I guess, I’ll be here enjoying the atmosphere and free drinks, as long as I end my night with you.” You told him with a laugh as he stood up, dropping your leg abruptly, no amusement to be shown on his face.

“Not so sure you know what you just asked for baby girl, enjoy the drinks, I’ll send you a car.” Lewis whispered, bent down so only you could hear, making your stomach flip, finishing with a kiss to your cheek.

You watched as his muscular body moved away, staring at him intently as he told the host something while looking directly at you. Through the rest of the evening you enjoyed free drinks while sat with the best view, you listened as the dinner atmosphere turned into a club yet no one disrupted you unless they were refilling your drink. You were happily buzzed and seconds later your phone was buzzing just as much as you were.

“I couldn’t just send a car…” His sultry British accent came over the speaker.

“Are you saying you’re outside to pick me up sir?” You teased him.

“Of course baby, c’mon before I hire someone to drag you out.” He chuckled

“She came in with Lewis Hamilton but he didn't leave with her”

“Heard he's been seeing some woman on the east side.”

“He can't even convince us he likes his car, why would he like her”

The laughter of the girls that were probably too young to be there anyway stuck in your chest. A 15 year olds opinion didn’t matter right? But then again they see the tabloids and you avoid them…

By the time you’re out of the restaurant and into Lewis' car you find yourself in a foul mood, your happy buzz turning into a sad drunk imagining everything he could have done in the last few hours.

“You okay love?” He asks as you plop into the passenger seat, not even waiting for him to see you and open it up for you.

“Mmmm.” You humm, still stupidly in your head.

“Y/N, what’s going on? I’m so sorry I had to leave but-” Lewis starts his argument as he pulls onto the freeway.

“You do whatever you want, Lewis.” You say sharply,

“Woah, where did that come from?” Lewis asks, sharp but inquisitive.

“I should have known you were too good for me, my lew was just a fucking phase. All the damn teenagers in the restaurant knew it… you went and got fucked by someone else, I get it, i made you wait, you’re you, you’re a playboy and I guess-” You try to rant before his hand is against your mouth

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asks, finally letting your mouth free with a look of pure confusion.

“What am I talking about? Where the hell did you go tonight? What are all those girls talking about?” You ask him sharply.

“Y/N, I went and saw Eric, I told you that. And are you talking about the teenage girls trying to get drinks at the bar?” His voice is firm before turning to further confusion.

“Yes Lewis, I am, they had lots to say as I left.” You try to keep your voice firm but it ends up sounding childish as you slump into your seat, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Y/N, those girls are like 15 years old and probably drunk for the first time in their lives, they were trying to drunkenly flirt with me when I left as if that isn’t a damn felony. Why the hell are you listening to anything they have to say?” His voice is incredulous, unable to process that the night has taken them to this point.

“Well you’re not denying a word they said right now, are you?” You throw back at him.

“I honestly didn’t think I had to!” He exclaims, still in disbelief.

You let out a scoff, turning to look out the window.

“Y/N, c’mon, I had a meeting with Eric, one that I was late to so I could make time to see you, I’m here to pick you up so I can spend more time with YOU. Why the hell would I be off with someone else?” His voice is firm but still holds a faint questioning tone.

“I don’t know, I’m evidently not good enough for you, I don’t even know how or why I caught your attention in the first place. I don’t even know what the hell it is that we’re doing. You haven’t even kissed me Lewis! I constantly feel like an idiot, I sit here wanting you to fuck me and the most I get out of you is you calling me ‘baby’.” You let all of your thoughts come out, against your better judgment, slumping against your seat with a huff.

He is quiet for a moment, stunned to silence. He is struggling between keeping his eyes on the road and staring at you in utter disbelief, a look you would see if you had the guts to steal a glance at him.

“I- I honestly don’t even know where to start…” He says quietly, trailing off.

“You know I’m right, that's why you don't know what to say.” You state as if it's a fact, a sassy quip in your tone as you shrug your shoulders, a sassiness that only comes out after some drinks.

He so badly wants to laugh, not only at your unusual sassiness but at just how ungodly wrong you are, but he knows that he can’t, that he shouldn’t, it would only make everything worse. Instead he does his best to stay firm.

“Sweetheart, no, you couldn’t be further from right. I adore you, I’m just…” He sighs, trying to find the way to explain his feelings without sending you further over the edge, “I’m trying to be a gentleman here, I’m trying to do things a little different than I normally would. I’m out of practice with this whole romance thing and I know that you were skeptical of it at first too. I don’t want to rush you, I just love being around you.”

You scowl at being called out, knowing he’s right, you were very skeptical when you first met him, not convinced that being anything other than an acquaintance of a man of his caliber was a smart idea. You don’t dwell on it though, the liquor in your brain deciding to latch on to something else, ‘he just loves being around you’, there it is, you’re friends.

“So you’re not attracted to me?” You almost whine, if you were sober you would be embarrassed at how it came out but you can’t find it in you to care right now.

“Where the hell did you get that?” He asks, this time he can’t hold back the chuckle.

“You literally just said that you just love being around me.” You point out, still clearly not understanding much of what he said.

“Yes, and I do, how does that translate to me not being attracted to you?” He questions, a small smirk on his face as he notices that your mood is switching slightly from angry to bratty.

“You said JUST, meaning that’s all you want.” You challenge him, reading far too much into his words.

“Y/N, I also said I’m trying to be a gentleman with you and not rush you because of your feelings and boundaries.” He says calmly as he keeps his eyes on the road, trying not to get irritated with the beautiful tipsy woman next to him.

“Well how long were you planning on being a gentleman because I’ve been wanting you to fuck me for about six months now.” You say boldly.

His eyes go wide as he chokes on his own spit, not used to you being so blatant. The two of you flirt, things have gotten suggestive between you two more often than not, but you so boldly admitting something like that is new territory for him. He has to take a moment to gather himself before speaking.

“I- I didn’t know that,” He admits, his voice low, “I honestly thought you had just barely warmed up to the idea of us being more than friends.”

“What about my foot on your crotch tonight seemed like I still wanted to be just your friend?” You laugh in disbelief, slightly unsure if you are bad at putting yourself out there or if he is that bad at reading signs.

“Well yeah, tonight was pretty clear what you wanted, and to be honest I was going to give you exactly that after my meeting, it’s why I picked you up! I’ve been going crazy trying to go slow!” He exclaims.

“Was?” You question quickly.

“What?” He asks, blinking in confusion.

“You said was.” You point out.

“Oh jeez, not this again Y/N.” He huffs, ready for you to be mad at him for a whole new reason.

“No no no, you said ‘was going to give you exactly that’. You don’t want to fuck me anymore?” You pout as you question him.

He once again has to take a moment to gather himself, still unsure how to handle your unabashedness. 

“No, I do! In the future, yes, and I will if you’ll let me, but you got in this car ready to cut my head off or at the very least never speak to me again, I kinda thought that the flirty mood from dinner had gone out the window.” He tries to explain as you near his house. With the argument he hadn’t even taken a moment to consider that maybe he should be dropping you at yours instead.

“So not tonight?” You huff.

“No Y/N, probably not tonight.” He says quietly, a hint of disappointment lingering in his words as he pulls into his driveway.

“Why are we here then?” You ask, unsure of what to do now.

“Just come inside for a bit, you can sleep in the guestroom if you want or I can call you a car later if you really want, but I don’t think this conversation is really done.” He coaxes you, undoing his seatbelt and turning to look at you.

“I feel like I’ve made my points.” You shrug, staying firmly seated in your spot.

This time he truly can’t help but laugh at you, getting out of the car and making his way to your door.

“Well maybe I haven’t made all of mine.” He says as he stands in the doorframe, his hand extended to help you out of the car.

You don’t say anything, choosing to stare straight ahead as the brattiness really sets in.

“Y/N, if you don’t get out of the car on your own I won’t hesitate to pick you up myself, c’mon.” His voice is slightly teasing but you can hear how serious he is.

Finally you sigh in defeat, grabbing his hand to step out of the car. You hate that the second you feel his skin on yours your whole body warms. Tingles go down your spine and everything feels just right, you’re meant to be holding his hand, you’re meant to be so much more than just friends, but right now you’re mad at him, so you do your best to shake it off. You’re confident that you played it cool but he could see the feelings from a mile away, the same warmth enveloping him the moment you placed your smaller hand in his. He would normally tease you, but right now he knows not to muddy the waters, he needs you to actually listen to him when he gets you inside. You snatch your hand back from him once you are standing, watching awkwardly as he grabs your purse and closes the car door before gesturing for you to head towards his house. You feel like a lost puppy, obeying his commands but you can’t help it, your bratty mood only has so much strength. When you get inside you feel out of place, despite having been there many times. You can’t explain exactly why you feel so bizarre about it, maybe it’s that you’re finally sobering up and starting to realize that you still have many doubts, maybe it’s that you’re sobering up and realizing exactly what you accused him of in the car, maybe it’s that you’re sobering up and really becoming aware that you blatantly told the man you wanted him to fuck you, regardless of what it is you would rather not be sober right now. The tension hanging in the air as he puts his jacket away is weighing on you like a heavy snow, you want him to put you out of your misery and break the silence but he doesn’t. Instead he just moves towards the kitchen, leaving you to follow him aimlessly. He grabs a glass from the cupboard as you wander over to his wine cooler, ready to make your selection for the talk you're about to have. Before you can even take in the selections you feel his hands on your waist, guiding you away and toward the kitchen island.

“Nope, I think you’ve had enough, sit.” He says firmly in your ear as he just about places you on a bar stool.

You don’t say anything, just watch as he makes his way back to the other side of the island, filling the glass he’d just taken out with water before he’s sliding it in your direction.

“I’m not thirsty.” You say, staring at the glass in front of you.

“You wanted wine about 20 seconds ago.” He deadpans, calling you out with a raise of his eyebrow.

“You know damn well that's not why I wanted the wine.” You shoot back at him, “You said you had points to make, go ahead.” You prompt him, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

He sighs, his shoulders slumping as he shakes his head and a look of amusement creeps its way onto his face. He takes a moment, just staring at you, taking you in and you start to feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“Y/N, I don’t know what else to do.” He admits, sounding defeated.

You don’t respond verbally, furrowing your brow in confusion as you cock your head.

“I know we got to a… I guess a better place, back in the car, but I still don’t think you actually get it.” His voice is quiet, he sounds vulnerable.

This is unusual for you, you’re not used to Lewis being anything other than charming and cocky, to see him look defeated, vulnerable, it makes your stomach twist.

“I don’t get what?” You ask quietly, suddenly feeling slightly guilty.

“Hun, I try so hard. I don’t have enough time, and I know that, and I’m sorry for that, but I do my very best to see you as much as I physically can. When I’m away I try to not let a day go by where I don’t at least text you much less call you. I do stupid things with my schedule if it means I get to spend a few extra minutes with you. We’ve talked about things far deeper and greater than anything I’ve ever told my closest friends. I try to make every time I see you special because I know I’m not around for the casual moments and I have to be honest, most of that I’m not even doing for you. I’m doing it for myself because you are one of the most incredible women that I’ve ever met and I would kick myself if I let you fall through my fingers, yet here I am and it seems like I’ve done just that.” His eyes bore into yours as his words flow out freely, clearly unashamed about his feelings.

“I know you try hard, I never said you didn’t.” You say quietly, feeling almost like a child getting reprimanded after a tantrum.

“I know you didn’t say it, but I can’t help but feel it when you get in my car after a good night and immediately make it very clear that you don’t trust me.” He says firmly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I do trust you.” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Then why are you listening to drunk kids in a bar gossiping about things they know nothing about? Why don’t you tell me what you want with me? Things like the fact that apparently you’ve wanted to fuck me for the last six months? Why didn’t you tell me you were starting to maybe feel differently about this whole relationship after making it very clear that I didn’t have a shot?” His questions pour out in a way that makes your stomach knot, knowing he’s right to question all of it.

“I was drunk.” You answer meekly, hoping answering one question will be enough.

He lets out a dry laugh, “Okay, we’ll write that one off. What about the rest of it, Y/N?”

“It scares the shit out of me.” You admit so quietly you’re not sure he can hear as you stare at the glass of water in front of you.

“Admitting it to me or being with me?” He questions, his voice much softer now.

“All of it.” You say, feeling tears forming in your lash line.

“Explain it to me hun, because from where I am, we have a pretty amazing thing here if we just lean into it.” He says, so softly it could make you burst.

“I spend every day questioning not only why but hell if you’re even attracted to me. I know you have a billion other options so I don’t understand why you keep coming back, I’m afraid I’m just fun for you but then I think about it and I realize I’m not even your fun! We’re in wildly different worlds and I don’t even know how anything would ever work. I worry that you won’t be able to actually commit to anything. I worry that I’m the only one here feeling like this and I’m terrified of looking stupid and I’m terrified of losing the little bit of you that I have.” You rant, your tears now slipping past your lashes.

His face immediately softens when he sees your tears, quickly stepping around the island to get closer to you. He grabs the back of your chair, turning you to face him.

“Y/N, baby, I need to remind you that the very day we met, I point blank asked you out and you turned me down,” He starts quietly, taking your face in his hands to wipe away your tears as they fall, “I argued that we seemed like a good match and you had the audacity to agree with me but told me that you wanted a man that wasn’t fucking around, wouldn’t toss you to the side when he got busy. You told me that a romance with me sounded dangerous and that wasn’t what you were looking for but I couldn’t let you slip away like that so I asked you to let me prove that I could be that for you.”

You both laugh gently, remembering the first encounter that started all of this.

“I’ve been here trying to prove it to you, trying to be the perfect gentleman that you deserve, trying not to rush you, waiting for you to tell me you were ready. You didn’t say anything until tonight. And no, I’m not an idiot, I saw you starting to flirt more openly with me, I noticed you opening up about things, things becoming more intimate, but I swore I wouldn’t cross that line until the day you told me I could. If it’s just the logistics of it, that’s something we can work out, we’re both pretty smart people, I just need you to be honest with me.” He smiles softly at you, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Please kiss me.” You whimper, if your brain wasn’t processing all his words at a thousand miles an hour in the moment you may have cared about how you sounded, but after his speech all you wanted was his lips on yours.

“Is that your official way of telling me I can cross the line? That you’ll actually consider this?” He asks, his face closer to yours but still needing that final confirmation.

“God yes Lewis, I want you, I want to be yours, I want you to be mine, I’m sorry.” You say quickly, grabbing his arms in an attempt to get him closer.

“No need to apologize, beautiful girl.” The words leave his lips softly before they press against yours.

The second you feel his warm lips and their gentle touch, you melt. You feel complete the second he’s kissed you, unsure why you fought it for so long. His grip on your face is steady, grounding, everything you need. He pulls away much too quickly for your liking, keeping the kiss sweet, too PG for what you’re craving desperately. You chase his lips making him release a giggle that only causes you to pout.

“So you approve, huh?” He teases you, his hands coming down to rest on your waist.

“Oh shush, acting like you didn’t love it too.” You say, your pout morphing into a smirk that you can’t contain.

“I didn’t say I didn’t.” He says, leaning back into your lips.

This time he’s slightly less hesitant, his lips moving against yours gently. You can tell he’s holding back still but you're just too pleased to care, only causing excitement of what's to come when he’s less restrained.

“You know, two hours ago you were ready to rail me and now you’re being almost shy with the kisses.” You laugh at him when you finally pull away for air.

“Ssshhh, I’m just getting used to the territory.” He teases you, placing another peck to your lips.

“About that whole you picking me up to bring me back here and ya know…” You trail off, hoping he gets the hint of where you’d like the evening to go.

He lets out a sigh, pinching your hip before speaking, “I know, but not tonight. Just feel like we need to take a second.”

You pout at him again to which he just chuckles, pecking your pout sweetly.

“You’re the one who wanted to take it slow.” He points out.

“You’re the one who told me I was supposed to get laid tonight.” You throw back at him.

“Well you were the one with her foot on my cock.” He says, his eyebrows raised.

You gulp, the word tumbling from his mouth making your stomach coil in a much different way than earlier in the night.

“I-” You start, all the sudden feeling shy.

“Hmmm, cats got your tongue?” He jests.

“Well you were all ready to fuck me tonight but you wouldn’t even kiss me without explicit consent.” You blurt out, trying to call him on his contradiction.

“Fair point, but you were driving me to a new level of insanity at dinner tonight and I thought I was getting the message loud and clear.” He says calmly, leaning back in to kiss you again.

You silently pray that maybe just maybe he’s going back on his word as his lips move against yours, that maybe he’s changed his mind and you’ll end up in his bed tonight, but much to your dismay he pulls away once again despite your attempts to lock him into you with your arms around his neck.

“I could get used to finally being allowed to kiss you.” He smirks.

“You could be doing a whole lot more than that, but no, you’re keeping up the whole stupid gentleman thing.” You say, irritation seeping through your words.

“You told me you wanted a gentleman.” He throws back with an eyebrow cocked, amusement clear on his face.

“Well you proved that part, I want the rest now.” You almost whine, locking your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in. You find yourself annoyed for the first time by how strong he is when he doesn't move, never before being anything other than pleased by the godlike muscles under his skin.

He simply laughs at you, noticing that you're still a tiny bit tipsy, more unrestrained than usual.

“Alright, well you’ve already become a koala, how about I carry you to bed.” He chuckles, finally moving closer to you, only to pick you up.

You feel weightless and safe in his arms, quickly deciding you would let him carry you anywhere forever, a fact that you apparently accidentally state out loud in your still slightly inebriated state.

“Oh yeah? Well you let me know where you want to be carried and I’ve got you babe.” He simply chuckles as he walks toward the guest room, finding your admission endearing. All you can do is hide your blushing face in the crook of his neck.

When he finally plops you down on the mattress of the guest room you manage to pull him down into a kiss once again, one of his hands finding your waist as the other props him up above you. His lips move slower against yours this time, becoming slightly more explorative as you feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip. You open your mouth, welcoming him eagerly, the taste of him on your tongue is intoxicating. You take one last chance at what you’ve been dying for for months, moving your hand down from his neck to slip beneath the button down that is draped over his skin. You take your time to explore the solid ridges of muscle bulging beneath soft skin, you can imagine every tattoo that your hand brushes against but you wish nothing more than to actually see them. You can’t help but moan into his mouth when you feel his grip on your waist tighten as you touch him. The sound does something to him, you can feel his whole body tense beneath your touch as you make your way to his back, raking your nails lightly down the skin.

“Please Lew, want you so bad.” You whisper against his lips.

He pulls away from you with such urgency that you're convinced he’s about to say no again. He stands tall next to you, staring at you for a moment, just taking in the sight before him. You're laid on his guest bed, your hair strewn against the pillows with your short cocktail dress riding up your thighs. He pauses for a moment, closing his eyes, you wish for nothing more than to know what he’s thinking at that moment.

“Fucking hell,” He sighs and you begin to accept defeat, “yeah, okay, yeah, I can’t act like I’m not dying here anymore, but not here.”

You feel giddy the moment you hear his words, not processing what he meant by ‘not here’ until you're being scooped up bridal style, taking you by surprise.

“Lewis, we were in a bed.” You laugh, leaning in to place soft kisses against his neck that have him faltering in his steps.

“Yeah we were, but mine is much better and if this is happening you’re staying with me for the night.” He states as calmly as he can despite the tension flowing through his body.

It's a short walk before you’re once again being placed on a bed and you have to admit he was right, his bed is much better. You whine when you feel him move away making him laugh at just how needy you are.

“Patience baby girl, gotta find a light so I can see just how amazing you look when I make you cum.” His voice is teasing but serious, making your body flood with anticipation.

Within seconds he’s flicked on a warm light, a lamp by the side of his bed, just enough so you can see him as he stands next to you finishing undoing the last few buttons of his shirt. Your mouth goes dry when he shrugs it down his shoulders and you become nervous at how you might react to seeing him fully naked. It’s not that you haven’t seen Lewis shirtless before, it’s the knowledge that now you get to touch him, you know that his skin will very soon be pressed against yours, and it's driving you insane. You reach out toward him, your hand finding the skin just above his pants before he grabs your wrist.

“What did I just say Y/N?” He says lowly as he moves over you once again, “patience.”

“Been waiting so long Lewis, I don’t have any left.” You whine, your hips bucking up towards him when he presses a kiss just below your ear.

“Mmmm,” He hums through a chuckle before his voice turns thoughtful, “how do you think i feel? Been waiting a hell of a lot longer sweet girl. I gotta savour this.”

His lips tracing your neck are teasing, just enough contact to make you squirm but not enough to satisfy the carnal need brewing inside of you. His hands feel larger than ever before as they trace over your body, groping you in spots you never knew would emit such a reaction from you. He hasn't even taken off your dress yet and he has you a whimpering mess, your hands grasping onto his bare torso. You can feel the smirk of satisfaction on his face as he kisses down your throat, his hands finally reaching for the straps of your dress.

“Do you step in or is there a zipper?” He suddenly asks, taking you by surprise as he pulls away for a moment.

“Huh?” You shake your head, trying your best to come out of the absolute daze he had just put you in.

“Your dress.” He clarifies, not that it helps you any.

“Yeah? What about it?” You ask again, eager to have his lips on you again and still not fully back in your brain.

He smiles, laughing lightly as he shakes his head, “Your dress, did you just step into it or is there a zipper I need to find. It’s so pretty, don’t wanna ruin it.” His hands are massaging your hips as he speaks, not doing much to help you actually process his question.

“Um, there’s a zipper on the side, why did you-” Your question is cut off by his lips on yours once again.

“I’m in fashion baby, I’m familiar.” He mumbles against your lips as his fingers find the zipper, gracefully undoing it before his hands are back at the straps of the dress. Once again he pauses, “You absolutely sure?”

“Positive Lewis, I want this so much.” You tell him, trying to keep your voice firm so he has no further need to question you and delay what you're so desperately seeking.

The moment he hears the words leave your lips he’s back in action, his hands lowering the straps of your dress and pushing it down your body. You become very aware of the fact that you chose to go without a bra for the dress when you see his wide eyes staring at your chest. You almost feel shy but the way he’s looking at you takes any hesitation away. Once he’s taken in his view, he’s leaning down, peppering kisses across your whole chest. You can’t help but moan his name at the feeling of his lips on your skin, your grip on the back of his neck tightening. You almost explode when you feel his warm mouth wrap around your sensitive bud, his thumb brushing gently, teasingly over the other. You aren’t sure how you will be able to actually take it when you get to what you are dying for. You are writhing beneath him, spurring him on with every little whimper he pulls out of you.

“God, the little sounds you make, fucking music.” He murmurs against your skin as his kisses begin to trail lower, making his way down your abdomen.

When he finally reaches your hip you think you truly lose your mind. The one and only thought you can muster is ‘Lewis’. He takes his time, kissing across your pelvic bone, moving lower and kissing down the tops of your thighs. Finally he begins his ascent back up, nibbling on your inner thighs as he does, this tongue tracing circles against your skin that you have a desperate need to feel elsewhere, somewhere he’s been neglecting so far. Finally his fingers hook into the band of your thong, a lacey one you chose specifically for tonight, hoping this would happen finally. He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking to yours for a final confirmation.

“Please.” You breath out, lifting your hips to help him remove the tiny piece of fabric.

“Fuck Y/N” He says, just as breathless as you as he takes in the sight before him. He’s looking at you with the same admiration that he had when he took your dress off.

His thumb brushes gently against your folds, enough to make you shiver and moan but not nearly enough to satisfy the desire deep in your bones. You move your hips closer to him, earning a faint chuckle but thankfully he takes the queue, parting you open for himself so he can admire the aching bundle of nerves he’s dying to pull into his mouth. He strokes against you gently, just a few flicks before his thumb is trailing down to your opening, swiping up the wetness that is pooling.

“You’re making a mess, baby.” He tells you, his voice smug.

“Well, do something about it.” You snap back at him, your brattiness coming back with full force.

“Yes ma’am.” He laughs, giving you a playful salute that makes you want to slap him.

All your annoyance however is washed away in an instant when his lips finally suction around your mound, shocking you in a way you didn't know was possible. A loud moan leaves your mouth against your will, your hands moving to grab his bedsheets in an attempt to ground yourself. He groans against you, his tongue flicking in the perfect pattern, the combination sending you onto another planet.

“Oh fuck.” You squeal when he grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulders, diving in deeper and closer than he was before.

His mouth trails down, his nose still bumping against your clit as his tongue prods at your entrance, tasting every bit of you he can. His hands are tight on your hips, keeping you in place to pleasure you exactly how he wants. You can feel your stomach tightening, it’s embarrassingly quick you fear, but then he’s slipping a finger into you, his lips latching around your nerves.

“C’mon baby, I can feel it coming, give it to me.” He mumbles against you, the vibrations going through your spine.

You moan loudly, feeling the tension in your body rise. You’re a writhing mess, no longer able to be anchored by the arm draped across your stomach with little purpose. Just when you think you’re about to hit your peak you feel a second finger slip inside you, the pair hooking in the perfect motion that makes you crumble. You’re shaking as you moan loudly, your vision becoming blurry and your ears ringing as you come undone. His fingers never stop their torment, working you through it to ride out the high. When you finally come back into yourself Lewis is kissing along your thighs and leaving soft kisses to your overly sensitive core, his tongue dipping into you every now and again with a smirk.

“That feel okay?” He asks you when he finally sees you watching him, his tone dripping with the ever cocky ego of his.

“Oh shut up.” You giggle, pushing at his head as you burrow your head into the pillow next to you.

“Hey, c’mon now, don’t try to hide from me.” His voice is much closer than it was before and when you turn your head he’s directly above you, hovering over your face with a blissful smile that makes your heart clench.

“Don’t go getting too big of an ego, I needed a good fuck.” You giggle before his lips come down to meet yours.

“Mmmm, well first of all, just so you know, you taste divine and you look immaculate when you come,” He begins, mumbling against your lips before he trails down to your neck, “second of all, you haven’t gotten the good fuck yet darling,” With that he pulls away to look you dead in the eyes, “think you can handle that? Dying to know how incredible you feel.”

Within seconds you’ve gone from content mush to a horny animal again. You don’t know how your brain let you forget about the best part, you needed to feel him.

“Yes, oh my god please.” You breathe out, bordering on begging but you couldn’t care less in the world in that moment.

Your hands begin to move blindly, trying to find his belt buckle but just fumbling with nothing as you get distracted kissing him once again. He smiles, a genuine kind smile as he pulls away from you, sitting back on his heels to undo his pants himself. There’s something about the genuine happiness on his face that makes your heart clench and your stomach flip. He doesn’t just want a quick fuck, he wants you, he’s happy that its you. It’s not the cocky grin of a man who sweet talked some chick into his bed, it’s the genuine smile of a man who finally has the girl he’s been pining over for a year in front of him and finally on the same page. You’re only left to dwell on how much this means to him, to the both of you, for a mere moment, because soon he is lowering his pants and you catch your first proper glimpse of the prominent bulge threatening to burst his boxer briefs. You can’t hide your reaction, your eyes going wide when you see the size of it. You want to slap yourself, you should have known, you should have been prepared. Not only does the man exude ‘big dick energy’ in every thing that he does and says, he is usually sporting a bulge on the day to day without being hard. He clocks your reaction, a warm chuckle reverberating through his chest.

“Still sure about this?” He asks, his voice soft, catching on to your genuine hesitation.

“Can I see it?” You ask and immediately want to take it back, you feel like a teenager afraid of seeing a dick for the first time.

He laughs softly, kicking off his pants fully before leaning down to kiss you again.

“Of course, you can see it, touch it, measure it, inspect it however you want before you decide.” His words are punctuated by kisses, carrying a teasing lilt with every one.

“Stop, it’s just, your ego obviously doesn’t need it, but it looks bigger than what I’m used to.” You whine, your voice becoming shy as you attempt to dodge his kisses in embarrassment.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” The tease has left his tone, his voice soft and serious now, “we only do whatever you can handle, okay?”

You finally look back at him, embarrassed by your shock. The beautiful brown eyes that you meet hold nothing but sincerity, helping your nerves immensely.

“We’ll go slow, yeah?” He prompts, squeezing your thigh.

You nod, wanting desperately to connect with him that intimately. It’s been a desire burning within you for so long now you can't fathom possibly backing out, you know he’ll take care of you.

“You wanna touch it first?” He asks, his voice sincere but still causing you to laugh, making him join in with you, “Hey, I’m serious, maybe it’ll help.” You can hear the seriousness in his voice behind his giggles.

“Okay, yeah, actually that might help.” You admit, your laughter finally quieting down.

When he rids himself of his boxers you almost go through the same shock again. Firstly because of just how large he is, he’s longer than anyone else you've ever seen and so girthy you’re not sure you will be able to wrap your hand around him. Secondly because there he is, naked in all his glory, his strong thighs proudly showing muscles you could never dream of having, his beautiful torso adorned with intricate images and abs that have made you drool since the first time you saw him without a shirt.Your desire for the man in front of you quickly overtakes any hesitation you’d previously had, quickly sitting up to grab him and pull him towards you, crashing your lips against his. He moans into your mouth as your tongue dances across his. You take all your lust and turn it into gumption, reaching down and gently brushing your hand along his cock. His grip on you tightens and an almost pained whimper leaves his mouth as you do so. You take that as a good sign, reaching in between your own legs to get your fingers wet before wrapping your hand properly around his cock, stroking him gently. A groan leaves his throat as he forcefully pulls his lips away from you.

“There’s no way you just did what I think you did, is there?” He asks you, his eyes blown out, crazed with lust and disbelief.

You just giggle, swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, leaning in again to catch his lip. He lets you stroke him for only a moment before he’s pulling away and grabbing your wrist.

“It feels amazing babe, but if you keep doing that I’m going to cum.” He tells you earnestly, his forehead resting against yours as he breathes heavily.

“Well I kinda thought that was the point of this whole thing.” You giggle at him, knowing exactly what he wants but enjoying getting to tease him if only for a moment.

“The point,” He begins, pushing you down to the bed by your hips so he is hovering over you again, “is that I would rather be inside you when I do.” His words are muffled against your skin as he kisses down your neck, your brain short circuiting.

“Please.” You breathe out for what feels like the hundredth time of the night.

“I got you.” He murmurs, your legs locking around his waist.

You feel his bulbous head trailing through your folds, collecting your wetness. You almost feel as if it must be a dream, there's no way you finally got this lucky. Then you feel the slightest bit of pressure at your opening, he's not even inside you yet and you gasp.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, we’ll go slow, you just keep telling me how you feel, okay?” He whispers in your ear.

You nod and the second he’s sure you want it you feel him pushing forward, the stretch stinging and feeling like too much yet also feeling absolutely perfect. He only thrusts about a quarter of the way in before he’s pausing.

“How you feelin’ baby girl?” His voice is soothing but you can hear the strain as he asks the question. You need him to keep going, the momentary pain melting into ultimate satisfaction.

“More, oh my god, please.” You moan out.

He finally continues, pushing into you with such care it makes your heart burst. The way he’s handling you makes it evident that this isn’t just a fuck for him, it’s a coupling, He cares more about being close to you and your pleasure than he does the rest of it. When you feel his pelvis meet your clit you clench every muscle in your body, feeling fuller than ever before. He lets out a deep groan, dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“You let me know when I can move sweetie, but you gotta relax for me. Okay?” You can hear the tension in his voice muffled against your neck, his lips moving against your skin.

You let out a breath, working through the overwhelming feeling of being so full of the man you care so deeply about, your body finally relaxing.

“Please move Lew, I need it.” You whimper out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“That's my girl.” He says softly, his face just above yours with a soft smile as he begins to thrust.

Within moments he has found a pace that has your toes curling and your nails raking down his back. He is hitting every single spot you need him to, stretching you to the limit in the best way possible, working you to your peak in a shockingly quick manner. He’s not rough, he’s not fast, his movements are slow and languid. If he’s not staring directly into your eyes while he whispers sweet and filthy words to you, his lips are on yours as you swallow each other's moans. You’ve never been happier to have a vocal lover than Lewis, you can tell he is loving every single second, that he is overwhelmed with how good he feels. He’s not holding back a single moan, grunt, or groan and it’s only spurring on your pleasure. He sounds so good, looks so good, and feels so fucking good. You’ve never felt quite this all consumed by a man before, he is all that exists in the moment. He is leaning down on his forearms, his large biceps caging you in and it's all you can do not to lean over and bite them. His voice is in your ear when his tongue isn’t in your mouth, his heavy cock is splitting you in two with every perfectly aimed slow deliberate thrust, his pelvis is dragging across your clit giving you every ounce of pleasure you could ever need.You can already feel your toes clenching and your walls beginning to lock him in as you brace yourself in his shoulders.

“God, you feel fucking perfect, fucking made for me. My girl, all mine, huh?” His voice is rough as he talks to you, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes boring into yours.

You can only nod, tears slipping down your face as even moans refuse to escape your throat.

“That’s it baby, just feel it. Taking it like such a good girl.”

The tone of his voice and the dirty words tumbling from his lips have your stomach clenching, you know you’re almost there and so does he. His slow and steady pattern speeds up every so slightly, still keeping the same intimacy but increasing the obscene pleasure running through your body as his hand snakes down to properly rub at your clit.

“Let go for me Y/N, cum all over my cock, I’m right here, I’ve got you, lemme feel it.” His voice is strained but soothing as he talks you to your release.

Within seconds you let out a guttural moan, your whole body tensing as you feel the coil snap. The only word that can leave your mouth is his name, a chant of ‘Lewis’ leaving your tongue as your mind goes blank. You can faintly feel his thrusts falter before his own groan is matching yours, his head falling to your shoulder as thick ropes of cum lace your walls. You have no idea how long it is that you lay there on his bed completely limp. You have a faint memory of the whimper that left your lips when he finally pulled out of you. You know there was a moment of panic when you saw him begin to walk away but you were so blissed out that you ended up focusing on how good his ass looked. What you don’t know is how long it’s been since he left or how long you’ve been laying there, now all you can think about is how badly you want him back next to you. You try to move to sit up but quickly realize the best you can do is prop yourself up on your elbows. As you struggle, Lewis comes back into the room, holding a wet cloth and a glass of water, a smile across his face as he takes in the sight before him.

“You’ve been gone for forever.” You whine, unaware if it's even true or not, doing your best not to admire the fact that he is still stark naked in front of you.

“I’ve been gone for maybe two minutes,” He laughs, making his way towards you, “honestly didn’t even think you would notice, you seemed pretty content off in some bliss land.”

“Hey, that’s technically your fault.” You weakly argue, falling back onto the bed.

“A fault I will happily take,” He smirks, leaning down toward you and pressing his lips against yours, “again, and again, and again, and again.” Each declaration is sealed with a kiss, making you giggle and very weakly try to push him away.

He finally moves away from his assault of kisses, placing the water on the night stand next to you and moving to part your thighs which immediately makes you protest.

“Lew, it was amazing but I can’t.” You whine, squirming away from him.

“Baby,” He laughs, trying to stay sweet but far too amused by your sex drunk mood, “I wasn’t trying anything, I swear, just wanna clean you up because I think a shower is pretty far from your reality right now.”

“Oh.” You mutter, not used to any of your partners ever taking the time to take care of you afterwards. It was usually you realizing a little while later that you had to make sure you peed at the very least.

Lewis however makes sure to take extra care with you, one hand massaging your thigh as the other wipes the warm cloth against your skin. He does smirk when he reaches your core and sees you flinch the slightest bit, but even with your reaction he stays sweet and careful, caressing you in what can only be described as a loving manner. When he’s done, he throws the cloth carelessly onto the floor, something you would have thought would drive him insane, knowing he’s a tidy control freak. Instead of worrying about it, he runs his hands up your sides, kneading at your flesh in a way that somehow feels intimate but not sexual.

“Do you want to sleep like this? Or do you want some clothes?” He asks gently, placing a kiss to your stomach that once again manages to not feel suggestive somehow.

You can feel yourself getting shy. You know the answer he wants but you really want at least a t-shirt, something about sleeping naked has always made you feel weird. You hesitate for a moment, your answer apparently written all over your face because he just smiles and places another kiss against your skin before getting up and heading towards his closet.

“T-shirt or sweatshirt?” He calls out from within the closet, not an ounce of bother in his tone.

“Sweatshirt?” You answer, unsure of yourself.

“Boxers, shorts, or sweatpants?” He calls out again, unphased by your request.

“Is boxers weird?” You ask, still unsure.

“Nope!” He says, emerging from the closet, now wearing a pair of sweatpants low on his hips, his hand full of a stack of clothing for you.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter as you sit up to take the clothing from him.

“Arms up,” He says, the sweatshirt above your head ready to dress you, making you giggle, “and why are you sorry for wanting to be comfy while you sleep?” His voice is muffled through the thick fabric of the sweatshirt that he places over your head.

“I’m sure you would have rathered, I said naked.” You admit as your head pops out the neck hole making him laugh.

“Sweetie, you’re in my bed, that’s all I need. Want you to be comfortable.” He says sincerely, a soft smile on his face as he leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. “Besides I’ve always been kinda convinced that monsters will grab me if I have a foot out from under my blanket so I can’t blame you for wanting to sleep in something.”

You can’t help but let out a genuine laugh at that, knowing that that was one of your childhood fears yet it still follows one of the most fearless men you know.

“Alright, ya gotta scooch this beautiful bum.” His instructions come out soft with a soft pat to your ass as he slides the boxers up your legs.

Everything about the moment feels so loving and playful, it’s hard to imagine that this man that is saying bum and telling you he’s afraid of monsters under the bed was making you see stars and become delirious mere minutes ago. This was a feeling you could definitely get used to. Once you were dressed, Lewis was prying the blankets out from under you, attempting to make room for himself in the bed, laughing at your lack of movement.

“Okay, first note to self, she’s a damn bed hog.” He said playfully once you were both in the sheets, his arm wrapping around you in an attempt to pull you as close as possible.

“Hey, you can’t possibly already be making a cons list, you wore me down like three hours ago.” You argue, half serious, as he maneuvers you so you’re laying against his chest as he hikes your leg up over his hips.

“Not a cons list, just a things to remember list.” He assures you softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Okay, I suppose I can live with that.” You huff playfully into his chest, your fingers tracing patterns along his pecs.

He hums in satisfaction, evidently enjoying your soft touch on his skin as you cuddle further into him.

“Hey Lewis.” You grab his attention, your voice muffled with your cheek smushed into his chest.

“Yeah baby?” His voice is tired as he massages the back of your head, his other hand tracing soothing patterns on your back underneath his stolen sweatshirt.

“We’re gonna make this work, right?” You ask him, your voice timid but needing to hear the confirmation before you can let yourself fall into a peaceful sleep.

“I’m going to do everything in my damn power Love, would never forgive myself for letting you slip away” He tells you seriously even though you can tell he’s beginning to drift off.

That’s all you needed to hear. You let yourself nestle even further into him than you thought was possible, beyond happy that you finally admitted that this was your man. Nothing could ever be perfect, and while your reservations may still have some validity, nothing was better than this beautiful man underneath you and you were prepared to fight like hell to keep him.

[fairlyang]

thinking about reader leaving lipstick marks on needy!miguel. inspo

after the sloppiest make out session miguel has had in his life, it was to no surprise he was hard as a rock and his boxers were leaking with his precum. you stripped him of all his clothes and you were only left in your undergarments. you had applied red lipstick and didn’t hesitate to leave kisses on every crevice you wanted.

you had just kissed a circle around his pelvic area, leaving behind bright red lip stains while his cock twitched in anticipation. he didn’t even know if you were going to do something just watched as you teased him with no remorse.

your eyes locked deeply into his as you kissed down his thigh and went to the other one. he bit his lip, fighting back the urge to beg for you to do something. he had to change to a new leaf. maybe to prove to himself that your effect on him isn’t that strong.

you took notice of it and couldn’t have that. you needed to hear his sweet pleads, you had grown fond of them. always music to your ears.

you grabbed the red lipstick and applied yet another layer, quickly closing it then putting it aside. still somewhat looking at him you went lower, leaving a small kiss above his balls. he twitched yet again, biting his lip a little harder.

you slowly kissed up along his length, gentle kisses so the lipstick would stay on longer. you got right to the middle and moved your head to the right and kissed down the side as his thighs began to shake. you did the same to the left side then went back to the middle and kissing up. his cheeks were growing warmer by the second and sweat was forming on his forehead.

you looked so good down there. treating him oh so nicely but also being a tease. only because you knew him so well.

so much so that when you made it closer to the tip you knew he was close to breaking. with a quick movement you grab his shaft, leaving a big kiss right on his tip and just like magic, he let out a loud moan.

you smiled up at him and licked off his precum, before slapping the tip onto your tongue. he gasped and felt goosebumps surge through his body. you pulled away and got your face closer to his cock, pressing it against your cheek then pulling away to look at your masterpiece.

“look so pretty like this baby.” you murmur, admiring how the bright red looks on his tanned skin. like a true piece of art.

he let out a small moan and you looked up at him, “don’t ya think so?”

he quickly nods and you slowly start to stroke him, eyes on him to see his reaction. his lips parted, letting out deep breaths while you worked your hand on him, careful to not smudge the lip stains too much.

you went a little faster and he let out more moans, his hips thrusting forward making you chuckle, “mmm you like this huh baby?”

he gulped and nodded once again, letting out a sigh as you jerked him off. you increased the pace to hear him moan again, once he did, you slowed down again, “i want to hear you.”

he whined and was going to be stubborn but knew you’d be capable of completely stopping so he spoke up, “y-yes- yes i like it-“

“thatta boy..” you mumble and go even faster than before without any warning.

he groaned and watched you with fluttering eyes, barely able to let out a coherent sentence, “f-fuck- feels- god… feels s-so good-“

“i know baby, i know. gonna cum for me? give me another load?” you murmur and he eagerly nods, letting out strings of pretty moans.

an idea popped into your head, quite a cruel one but you knew he’d be able to handle it. you continued stroking him fast, whispering dirty things that had him twitching in your hand and had him getting closer to his release.

“oh fuck! baby i’m gonna-“ he moans out and you watch how his body contorts and shakes above you.

you let go of him at the very last millisecond and open your mouth wide as he whimpers and his cum spurts out. some landed on your mouth making you grin while he pouted as the last of his load landed on your chest.

“c’mon baby, don’t be mad. you did so good for me.” you cooed and stood up, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek making him look at you.

he looked at you, mad at himself for not standing his ground and folding like a chair so easily. but that look in your eyes made him smile, maybe it’s not so bad after all.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑪𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 789

Warnings: None

Summary: Little Avie-May crawls for the first time.

Notes: these imagines will not be posted in any particular order.

It was a lazy Sunday morning, one of the rare moments when Alexia had no training or matches, and you both had the whole day to spend with Avie. She was seven months old now, full of energy and endlessly curious about everything. Her bright eyes lit up at the slightest noise, and her hands were constantly reaching for new things to explore.

You were sitting on the living room floor with her, her favorite soft blanket spread out underneath. Avie was on her hands and knees, rocking back and forth like she'd been doing for the past week. You could tell she was close to figuring it out, that magical moment when she'd finally learn to crawl.

Alexia had disappeared into the bathroom for a quick shower, leaving you to entertain your daughter. "Come on, Avie," you said softly, wiggling one of her colorful toys just out of her reach. "You've got this, baby girl. Just one little push."

Avie squealed, her tiny fists slapping the blanket as she looked at the toy with wide eyes. She rocked a little more, her chubby legs trembling as she tried to coordinate the movement. You held your breath, half-expecting her to do it right then and there.

"Almost!" you encouraged, grinning as her determination grew.

And then, as if something finally clicked, Avie pushed forward with her knees. It wasn't perfect—more of a half-scoot than a proper crawl—but it was progress.

"Oh my god," you breathed, your heart racing. "Ale! Alexia!"

From the bathroom, you heard a muffled, "What?" followed by the sound of the shower shutting off.

"She's doing it!" you yelled, your voice giddy with excitement.

The door slammed open a second later, and Alexia came skidding into the living room. Her dark blonde hair was piled messily on top of her head, still full of shampoo, and she had barely managed to wrap herself in a towel. Her feet were damp, leaving small puddles on the hardwood floor as she rushed over.

"What? What is she—?" Alexia froze mid-sentence, her brown eyes going wide as she saw Avie.

Your daughter was still on her hands and knees, wobbling slightly but holding herself steady. The moment she spotted her Mami, she let out a loud, excited squeal, her little face lighting up with joy.

"Avie," Alexia whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

And then it happened. With a burst of determination, Avie moved her hands and knees in unison, crawling toward Alexia in an adorably uncoordinated shuffle. She made it only a few inches before collapsing onto her tummy, but the accomplishment was clear.

"She crawled," Alexia said, her voice barely audible. "She... she crawled to me."

You were already tearing up, watching the way Alexia's face crumpled with pure joy. She dropped to her knees beside Avie, scooping her up into her arms despite still being soaking wet. "Mi niña," she murmured, pressing kisses all over Avie's chubby cheeks.

Avie squealed again, clinging to Alexia's towel with her tiny hands and giggling at the sensation of her Mami's wet skin.

You wiped at your own eyes, laughing softly as you crawled over to join them. "I can't believe we both got to see it. I was so scared you'd miss it."

"I would never forgive myself," Alexia said, her voice trembling. She looked down at Avie, who was now babbling happily in her arms. "You are amazing, mi amor. So strong, so clever."

"She takes after her Mami," you teased, nudging Alexia's shoulder.

Alexia glanced at you, her brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "No, she takes after you. You are her everything."

Your heart swelled at her words, and for a moment, the three of you sat there in a messy, emotional pile on the floor.

Eventually, Alexia laughed, a soft, watery sound that made your chest tighten. "I am covered in shampoo," she said, glancing down at herself.

"And dripping on the floor," you added, giggling as you gestured to the growing puddle beneath her.

"I do not care," Alexia said firmly, hugging Avie tighter. "This is perfect."

You smiled, leaning your head against her shoulder as you watched Avie babble and squirm in her arms. "It really is."

Neither of you moved for a long time, content to soak in the moment together. For all the sleepless nights and endless challenges of parenthood, this made it all worth it. Seeing Alexia so overcome with love and pride for your little girl was something you'd never forget.

**

@ceesimz @marysfics @wileys-russo @mead-iocre @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[revelboo]

I'm soooo obsessed with 'Skin and Bones' it makes me look stupid. I daydream about it at work lmao. Honestly fantastic

For me, it’s as fun to write soft Megatron as it is to write feral TFP Megs. Mass displaced mech 18+ 🌶️

Skin and Bones Pt 9- extended cut

IDW Megatron x Reader

Servos trembling as they curl into fists, he shrugs off Soundwave’s hand on his shoulder. Knows the communications officers is concerned, but the energon splattered on his hands and chassis isn’t his. It rarely ever is.

“Leave me,” he growls, wishing he could gentle his tone. But that fury is a living thing inside his spark. Another failed coup to put down. It’s not like it’s anything new, but he’s just so tired of it and violence is the only way to keep his throne. The only thing his followers respect and he hadn’t been able to temper his blows, because betrayal always brings out the worst in him. Those memories always too close to the surface.

Drags him right back to the gladiator pits, struggling and clawing just to survive, because one wrong move will cost his life. Never being able to relax, not even during recharge. Being the strongest had placed a target on his head. Made him plenty of enemies.

And finally alone, that rage shakes him, sinking into his spark. Because everything he’s done has been for them. Fighting for freedom, to not be leashed by the aristocracy ever again. Dragging his chair away from his desk, he slings it across the room. Wants to tear the walls down around him, but it’s the sharp cry from his berth that freezes him. Chains that fury.

Spark constricting as he realizes he’d forgotten all about you. Head turning, he finds you pressed against the wall on his berth, eyes wide with fear. Seeing the real him for the first time, the angry mech who’d fought so hard just to survive, who’d grown bitter and determined. And you’re terrified.

“Little one,” he growls, voice too rough still as he approaches. The chair didn’t land anywhere near you, but he’s been so careful to not show you the worst of him, because around you he can relax. Remember that there were times before the fights that weren’t easy by any means, but were almost happy. Companionship found with the other miners, a sense of family that had been taken from him. Reaching out a hand, he doesn’t try to touch you as you flinch back, little hands curled against yourself. Afraid if he tries to touch you, it’ll send you running. And he’s afraid of what he’ll do in turn if you reject him. He’s just so tired of it all, but you give him comfort. A little spot of trusting warmth.

Eyes shiny, you look from his outstretched hand to his face. Slowly letting out a breath and coming to him to lay a warm palm on his servo. Still trusting him even if you’re scared.

“Everything okay?” You ask, looking up at him as a single tear slides down your cheek and you reach up to scrub it away. Afraid, but asking him if he’s okay and your concern aches in his spark.

Knows how dangerous it is after the brawl he’d just had. If anyone comes looking for him, if they get past their fear and come at him together? Knows he shouldn’t risk it even as he places his ped on the berth, leaning forward and mass shifting. Closing the distance between you as he shrinks and seeing your eyes widen as he carefully grips your little hand. Even like this, you’re so much smaller than he is, fragile. But as you look up at him, he’s snared by those eyes, the little flecks of color in them he’s never noticed.

“You’re little. Smaller,” you whisper with a soft, awkward laugh, eyes dropping to stare at his hand gripping yours. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

He needs to see those eyes again, his free hand reaching to cup your soft cheek and tip your face up. Feeling when you lay your palm on his hand as he slides a servo along your cheek. Accepting his touch despite the faint tremor he can still feel, those trusting eyes seeing him. The good and the bad, and not running. Venting sharply when his touch leaves a smear of energon on your cheek, marking your skin with his sins.

Because that’s what he’s always done, isn’t it? Every time he reaches out, he just ends up destroying what he’s trying to protect.

He’s frozen, those red optics fixed on his servos against your cheek as you try to calm your racing heart. That had been the other side of the coin, the vicious warlord that the Seekers had whispered about. Feared. Red optics glowing, denta bared as he’d seized his chair in energon wet hands and thrown it. That hatred twisting his face mixed with despair, cutting you so deeply, piercing the fear.

Those wet servos are touching you, dampening your skin. And he’s just staring, venting raggedly like he’s about to lose it all over again. That’s what makes you catch his hand between both of yours when he tries to snatch it away. Eyes dropping as he hesitates and you pull, turning yourself so your back is to him, his arm under yours and pinned to your body. So you can examine that big hand. “I like when you touch my cheek or play with my hair,” you begin, unsure of how to say what you need to, what he needs to hear. Playing with a servo to curl it slightly and amazed that he’s letting you. “These hands don’t scare me, they’re warm against me when I sleep. They’re strong, but they keep me safe.”

“They destroy, too,” he murmurs.

He’s so close he’s almost touching you and you feel the warmth of him when he vents and it stirs your hair. “Mine can, too.”

He huffs out what might be a bitter laugh at that, but he would think you’re too little, too fragile to do any harm. Giving in, you lean back into him. Soaking in his warmth and safety and realizing how attached to him you are. That you like that rumbling voice, like those big, gentle hands. It’s not like you’d ever deluded yourself into thinking he was safe, but he’d made you feel seen and cherished. He’d felt safe even knowing what he was and what he’s capable of.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Tugging his hand up, you press a kiss against the center of his palm. You can’t look at him, can’t risk seeing the surprise or worse, the disgust on his face. Cause to him, you’re a pet. A weird little alien he adopted as his. So you brace yourself when he turns you, those red optics searching your face.

“You should be,” he says, cupping your face in those warm hands. “I terrify myself.” And his head dips, his mouth brushing against yours.

More of a question than a kiss, a warm stroke of his lips against yours and he’s lifting his head. Going up on tiptoes as warmth spreads through you, you catch his helm and drag him back so you can mold your own mouth to his. Wanting this, him even though it’s crazy. You’re two very different species, but being held by him, drowsing to the thrum of his spark under you, it feels like coming home. And you want all of it. Want to hang on with both hands so you’re not left alone again, because after him? You might not survive that loneliness.

His glossa slides against the seam of your lips entering when you part for him. Those big hands sliding over you, dragging you closer as your feet leave the ground. His mouth moves against yours in a hungry demand and one of his arms cages you to him.

Your mouth is all heat and hunger against his, those soft hands clinging to him as if afraid he might stop. Even if he’d wanted to, he’s not sure he could now. Because you’d reached out, taken what you wanted and given him permission to do the same. No, there’s no stopping until he takes everything he can, loses himself in whatever comfort you’ll allow him. Because you? There’s no conniving or plotting in those warm eyes. Pinning you to his frame, he goes down on his knees and lays you down under him, head lifting slightly so he can find those eyes. Reassure himself that he can have this without destroying what little he has.

“Don’t go,” you whisper, face flushed as you reach for him and how can he deny you?

Slowly do he doesn’t scare you, he finds the bottom edge of your shirt and slides it up to reveal soft skin. “I’m here,” he says and you smile faintly, little hands moving to help him strip you. And only then, bare underneath him, do you avoid his optics as he surfs a palm against you, mapping you out with his servos. “Look at me.” It’s a demand and not as gentle as he’d meant, but you hesitantly meet his optics. “We’re very different.”

“I know,” you say, reaching up to skim your fingers over his chassis in barely there touches. As if not sure if you’re allowed.

Catching your wrist, he presses your palm more firmly against him. “I like those differences.” Shifting slightly, he continues his slow exploration. Finding where he can touch you to make you shiver, squirm away, or gasp. Then his servos find you, cup you and stroke that wet heat. Realizing that as different as you are, it feels like you’re made for him as he presses a servo inside you and you arch. Primus, help him as he frees his spike. Needing to be buried deep inside you even as he strokes that servo deep.

“Don’t stop,” you protest when he pulls his hand away and he laughs softly. He can’t even if you asked him to as he shifts to cover you. Little eyes widening as you feel his spike slide against you, then slowly press inside. “Oh.”

You’re so tight and wet wrapped around his spike as he sheaths himself. He can feel you clench on him before you relax and soften as he cups your cheek. Rocks himself against you with a growl, savoring the feel of you. “I love those differences,” he snarls, beginning to move against you. Hips driving urgently against yours, still wound up with that anger from earlier. Taking that frustration out on you, claiming you rougher than he intended. And you hold onto him, murmuring against his neck. Right there, please, his name, falling almost mindlessly from your lips against the mesh of his neck. Accepting him even like this when you deserve gentle and soft.

And when you cry out and tighten on him, he keeps rutting against you. Denta bared as he thrusts and chases you over that edge. Feeling you milk his spike as he buries himself deep and releases. Claiming you as his. Needing you and those soft hands that had reached out, those eyes that had seen him and not turned away. Knows he doesn’t deserve you, but wants to hold onto this as long as you’ll trust yourself to him, because you feel more like home than anywhere he’s ever been.

Previous

[hestzhyen]

An Extremely Subjective HakuHiro Romantic Trope Breakdown

Greetings, void. This arc is rough and the brainworms won't let me write my own hurt/comfort fan fiction- they demand half-baked analysis instead of lovemaking. So have the closest thing that passes for fluff from yours truly.

In essence, this is just a list of the explicitly romantic tropes I love applying to HakuHiro with varying degrees of gushing ship babble as justification. Some are definitely skewed hard towards headcanon but there's always at least a tenuous connection to something that's demonstrated in the work itself. Proceed if this kind of brain rot sounds like your jam! Otherwise just please let me die from cringe in peace.

Battle Couple

Offense and support working in perfect harmony.

So this is just one of my personal favourites, but Chihiro and Hakuri definitely have strong vibes for this trope. They fought together in an absolutely stunning display of mutual trust and understanding in the Rakuzaichi Arc. Seriously, these guys pulled off some truly spine-tingly good moves to take down Kyora despite Hakuri only just awakening to his powers the very same day.

They demonstrated this again in the train fight protecting Uruha- Hakuri and Chihiro only need the bare minimum of communication between them to fight in style. I look forward to more chances for them to show off their teamwork! If they end up fighting back-to-back in canon I'll probably just straight up ascend to fudanshi heaven on the spot. I LOVE BATTLE COUPLES.

Love at First Sight/Rescue Romance

"This is the kind of man I need in my life."

Love at First Sight is pretty self-explanatory: person A sees person B and immediately falls head over heels. It's easy to slap that on Hakuri in his introduction chapter- he's only missing an invitation to get to know each other over some coffee when they finally meet up, really. Unless asking someone to help you kill your family is the Kagurabachi universe's equivalent...?

As for Rescue Romance, it's another very simple scenario: person A is saved by person B, which causes them to fall in love. Chihiro saves Hakuri with the other random people at the site of Sojo's massacre attempt, and Hakuri... yeah. You get it.

I think there's a better trope to associate to this later on in the list, but Love at First Sight and Rescue Romance are still apt and very funny tropes to apply towards Hakuri's first impression of Chihiro. The way he waxed poetic over the mystery samurai who saved and inspired him had me in stitches. Seriously, my oldest notes on Hakuri from that chapter are mostly just laughing about him being really passionate about Chihiro for someone who's not intended to be a love interest! Go get 'im, Hakuri. He needs you in his life just as much as you need him in yours.

Mindlink Mates

Don't need to hear each other at all if you just "get" them.

This is something I like to apply as a Fanon concept based on what happens in canon. Hakuri and Chihiro aren't literally linked mind-to-mind via telepathy, but both of them have a deep understanding of what the other's thinking and feeling at any given moment. I really like the concept that they understand everything about each other on an instinctual level. It's mostly fueled by the Aun concepts that have been associated to them, which I'll get into during a later section. But yeah. Hakuri and Chihiro being borderline telepathic in how they can sense the other's status. That's crack cocaine to me and it's not too far removed from canon so I'm running with it.

I also really like the idea of their strong emotions and desires bouncing off of and amplifying each other's, but I don't know if there's a specific trope for that, so it gets placed here at the end of this tangentially related section. Also not something far removed from canon given how they both fuel each other's self-destructive savior tendencies because they feel the same way!

Moe Couplet

They're so cuuuuuuuuuuuuuute

A Moe Couplet is essentially a pair of characters that enhance each other's cute traits. Separate, they are perfectly fine individuals with their own appeal. Together, they are adorable and capable of some tooth-rottingly sweet moments. This trope isn't typically associated with romantic duos in stuff aimed at general audiences, but it's common in BL as the basis for "fluff" works and wholesome pairings.

This is probably the biggest stretch to apply towards canon on the list, honestly. We haven't seen that much moe moe action from Hakuri and Chihiro- they're kind of busy fighting for their lives or hurting themselves to save others most of the time. But the few moments we get send me straight into cuteness agression-induced brain rot every time I think of them.

Most of this trope label for HakuHiro comes from little details. Like Chihiro often being shown reassuring Hakuri, and Hakuri getting some of the sweetest smiles out of him in return. Hakuri brings out Chihiro's soft side when Char's not around to do so and Chihiro helps Hakuri be his absolute silliest. These guys are are so good to each other! They melt the ice around my cold, dead heart into a slurry of hnnngh and incoherent shipper screeching.

What's it actually based on though? Well, I thought I was just doing normal delusional fudanshi things by thinking Hakuri is extra cute when he's around Chihiro and vice versa. But then Hokazono-sensei threw me a bone in an interview by saying he intended for Hakuri to "bring out Chihiro's personality and add some cuteness". And I. Just. I exploded into confetti on the spot. MOEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

One True Love

This ship is not merely an OTP to me, if you haven't noticed.

Note: "ai" is not inherently romantic despite it being the end-goal of pretty much every romance novel out there. It's for deep, profound affection felt for someone- friends, family, even pets. It's rare and not commonly said aloud outside of the climax of a love story is all!

This is mostly tied to Hakuri's experience with love growing up and how he can find out what 愛 [ai, purest and deepest love], really means.

Hakuri probably has no fucking clue what love of any kind is really supposed to look or feel like, much less the ultimate form of it. His father threw ai around as something to manipulate his children into serving the family tradition. Soya used it as an excuse to torture him. This was deliberately done to contrast with the love that Chihiro knew growing up- true ai between father and son, which was cruelly ripped away from him.

So let Chihiro teach Hakuri, and Hakuri provide in return. They're already each other's perfect partners anyway so just put a romantic spin on it!

Hakuri finding unconditional love he doesn't fear in Chihiro and Chihiro finding the same in Hakuri once more. Neither of them ever needing to fall in love again because they slot together so perfectly to fill the gaps in each other's hearts. Oh I'm gonna die...

Opposites Attract

If not meant to be canon, why colour coded as opposite compliments? :thonk:

This is the trope that activates a primitive part of my brain that overrides all thoughts with eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee noises when it comes to HakuHiro. Hakuri and Chihiro are true opposites that are perfectly balanced to contrast and compliment each other, resulting in a duo greater than the sum of it's parts.

Hokazono-sensei made his intentions about Hakuri and Chihiro extremely clear by going so far as to colour code them for us. This is the protagonist and his foil/deuteragonist guy who is Important as Fuck. The level of detail in designing and writing them reads like he took this trope extremely seriously and said "let's save the Hero + Lancer coding for Hiyuki instead". 'Cause as much as I love her, Hiyuki's got nothing on Hakuri when it comes to this trope. Her thing is closer to being the same person as Chihiro with the opposite frame of mind and mode of expression- it's Hakuri and Chihiro who are the true manifestation of Opposites Attract down to the tiniest details. I'm ready to die on this hill so come at me and put me out of my misery.

I mean just look at these guys:

Chihiro: black and red, stoic, reserved, serious and polite, slim and straight profile.

Hakuri: white and blue, emotive, outgoing, silly and casual, loose and boxy profile.

They invert the same ways under pressure; Chihiro stresses and falters while Hakuri focuses and buckles down. Their fucking backstories are in on it too: they both lost their father's love but under distinctly opposite circumstances. Even the love they received was contrasted since Kunishige was a perfectly wholesome dad while Kyoura used love in an abusively manipulative way! And that laid the foundation for the premise of the Rakuzaichi arc- Hakuri wants to destroy his family's legacy while Chihiro still wants to do right by his. It would take a whole 'nother post to list everything between them because every single detail about one is carefully crafted to be present in the other in order to complete their characters. It's absolutely insane and it's what really sold me on the ship.

The level of care put into writing Hakuri and Chihiro as opposites who complete each other is out of this fucking world. I'll feel sorry for whatever girl gets assigned to be a mandatory heterosexual love interest for either of them because there's just no way to compete when two people are written to be so thoroughly intertwined with each other.

(To clarify just in case: I don't think Chiyuki is a bad ship. I'm not trying to trash it and say HakuHiro's better or more legitimate somehow. I just have an issue with shounen romance in general because the girls don't get nearly as much narrative effort to make them compelling companions to the MC compared to the "best friends" and Kagurabachi is doing nothing new in that regard so far. Hokazono-sensei can actually make a bigger impact by refusing to tease Chihiro and Hiyuki at all instead of going down the tired old path of obligated sub-par heterosexual ship tease/romance IMO.)

The Power of Love

Nice Heroic Second Wind you got after thinking about Chihiro there, Hakuri.

So this is definitely skewed towards pure delusion on my part, but that's what we're all here for anyway. Power of Friendship? Never heard of it.

Basically, person A uses their love for person B to power up and overcome the hardship they're facing. In this case, I'm interpreting Hakuri's tendency to think of Chihiro when he's in dire straits as romantic!

Hakuri comes in clutch a lot and his feelings abut Chihiro are the reason he can do it. The memory of his samurai refusing to yield gives Hakuri the strength to keep standing and finally put Soya down in chapter 36. He does it again in a sadder way in Chapter 58 when he thinks of Chihiro and musters the last of his strength to summon him too late to save Uruha. I have no doubt that he'll have more of these moments as the series goes on, too. Chihiro is kind of hope incarnate to Hakuri.

Chihiro's drawn strength from his feelings for Hakuri too, but not in a pinch kind of way like the Power of Love trope typically implies. I'm just waiting for the day when it's his turn to use memories of Hakuri to keep standing (never gonna happen)!

Ship Tease

Putting this here for lack of a better term, but there's a running gag about Hakuri and Chihiro's relationship that's been escalating in intensity since the early parts of the Rakuzaichi arc. It only comes across in bits and pieces in English compared to Japanese, sadly, but I'll do my best to explain it.

Basically, I'm interpreting the jokes about Hakuri acting like a dog as deliberate ship tease for the lols from the author.

"Paw. Shake. Good boy."

It starts in chapter 28 with Hakuri dropping everything he's doing to run over to Chihiro when his name is called. It's really cute and funny and not something that can get lost in translation- Chihiro calls, and Hakuri comes. Just like a loyal dog to it's master.

It's set aside for a while until the Sword Bearer Assassination Arc starts up and Hiyuki drops this banger during the trial in chapter 46:

"But where he [Hakuri] stands is a big pain in the butt. He's not the one calling the shots." - official TL

Of note is the term Hiyuki used to say that Chihiro's the one in charge: 舵取り [kajitori]. The normal meaning for it is "steering a boat" or "helmsman" with the secondary being leader/director, so it's not like the English TL messed up. Same meaning different wording. What's lost is the subtext: 舵取り as Hiyuki's using it can also imply that Chihiro's in charge of Hakuri like the owner of a dangerous guard dog would be lmao. Hakuri kind of earned that jab after threatening to leave her in the storehouse to die if she hurt Chihiro, though.

And then there's this completely unnecessary scene from Ch. 50...

"Who's this? This little squirt smells like Chihiro, but he's not Chihiro."- official TL

The TL again isn't bad here but it really downplays just how fucking weird Samura is (which downgrades the rocket propellant to mere ship fuel). Samura's phrasing about Hakuri smelling like Chihiro was so batshit insane in Japanese that fellow JP shippers felt compelled to reach out to the rest of us in English to let us know, which is almost completely unheard of.

Basically, Samura wasn't saying that Hakuri merely smelled like Chihiro. He actually said that Hakuri was wearing Chihiro's scent, completely enveloped in it to the point of smelling identical to him. A native JP reader (in the link above) said that in their interpretation, the word "まとって [matotte]" isn't really used for friends, but more for lovers, family members, or dogs and their owners in the sense that being so physically close all the time causes their scents to rub off on each other.

It's not a normal term used to describe smelling like someone in the first place. When Samura meets younger Chihiro in the flashback and says he "reeks of Rokuhira", he uses the typical word for "smell/scent" (香り [kaori]) in Japanese. So for some reason we just had to know that Hakuri smelled like Chihiro in the way dog or a lover would, huh... so much so that Samura thought he actually was Chihiro... (I can't get over this, it sends my sides into orbit every fucking time).

So yeah. That's some top-tier ship tease if I do say so myself. What that dog doin'? What did they get up to on the train before meeting with Uruha? That's for us to decide!

Soulmates

It's not exactly hard to see that Hakuri and Chihiro have a bit more going on between them than standard friendship or brotherhood, even for a shounen series. Even some dudebros acknowledged this before the fandom gave over to homophobic trash anyway.

It all stems from Hakuri invoking one of the most potent romantic tropes there is as soon as they meet:

"That day, a samurai lit my helpless existence on fire."

Jesus Christ Hakuri, that's some passion!

I think the "soulmates" trope is the most fitting description of what's going on between Hakuri and Chihiro from the very first time they meet. I'll even go so far to say that it actually has a pretty damn good case for being canon in a platonic sense!

For the uninitiated (like I was), the soulmates trope is invoked when two characters feel a strong and immediate connection upon first meeting each other. It can be one-sided or even completely rejected by both at the start, but they will always find their way to each other since they are fated to be. The whole world falls into kilter when they get together even if they were perfectly functional people on their own before. HakuHiro is this trope to a fucking T in my mind. Absolutely flawless execution, 10/10 no notes.

Hakuri's part is obvious- he sees Chihiro and decides he must have this amazing person in his life no matter what. He feels the pull of destiny and answers the call with an overabundance of enthusiasm.

Chihiro's part is more subtle. He does the one-sided rejection thing at the start by running away, but fate pulls them together via circumstance and he takes Hakuri back with him. And somehow, for some reason, Hakuri is the first person he opens up about his genuine feelings to in a surprisingly raw way:

"If I don't do something, and a sacred blade takes the lives of innocent people... I wouldn't be able to bear that..."

He met the guy minutes ago, tried to run away from him, then decided to bear his heart to him in the elevator. Chihiro's a natural stoic who doesn't show much of what he's feeling and generally keeps thoughts like this to himself. But Hakuri brings out this softer, more vulnerable side to him that no other character has before. Then as the arc progresses, Chihiro comes to rely on Hakuri more and more until it's crazy to think that he ever ran away in the first place. It's like they were always meant to find and save each other.

I'm not looking too hard at this with shipping goggles strapped to my face. We get confirmation that this is what's going on with them via The Word of God Himself:

From the Volume 4 description: 一方、兄からの愛と暴力によって地に伏した伯理。今際の際に脳裏を過ったのは、ある少女との日々だった。極限の中、二人の少年の魂が呼応する。

"Meanwhile, Hakuri is struck down by his brother's love and violence. On the brink of death, he remembers the days he spent with a certain girl. In the midst of this extreme tension, the souls of both boys resonate with each other."

The last sentence is basically more total harmony/Aun imagery for Hakuri and Chihiro. 呼 (ko) means to call and 応 (ou) means to respond. Together, 呼応 means to act in concert. So Hakuri and Chihiro's souls call out and respond to each other in perfect sync when they're in dire straits. It's canon!

If that's not enough, then there's also the Aun imagery. It was left out of the EN Chapter 38 colour page as usual (never gonna forgive the EN version for removing the text), but basically the author used deliberate religious imagery to tell us that Chihiro and Hakuri have an inherently harmonious relationship. A and Un, in perfect sync- whatever one starts, the other will finish. The beginning and end of all things. A perfect pair.

They demonstrate this lethal effectiveness by working in tandem during the storehouse fight, with Chihiro only needing to yell Hakuri's name for Hakuri to perfectly interpret everything he's thinking and execute on it flawlessly. It's absolutely insane stuff even if we disregard Hakuri only woke up to his power less than an hour ago in-universe isn't it?! And they repeated the stunt the next day while protecting Uruha, so it wasn't just a one-off for a cool moment. It's core to their dynamic for their souls to resonate in total harmony!

And just to top it off, we got a funny little gag of Chihiro and Hakuri passing out and waking up at the same time side-by-side after the auction, totally in sync.

All of this within a week of meeting each other.

Some actual romantic soulmate couples don't get this much effort put into coding their relationship, just saying. I also don't think people would be so quick to jump on the sibling interpretation after Shiba's "What are ya, twins?" joke if Hakuri and Chihiro were a heterosexual ship option, just sayin'.

Unknowingly in Love

No sad pictures of dead Kunishige in this post!

This is another one that's far closer to fanon than canon. It banks on the fact that both of them grew up isolated and, quite frankly, probably poorly socialized compared to the rest of the world.

Chihiro lived with just his dad in a remote mountain home and only occasionally visited the town nearby with Shiba. No friends, no school even. Hakuri lived on the secluded Sazanami estate surrounded by his family and saw some of the outside world, but likely only the criminal elements of it. Plus there's the whole growing up only knowing love as something abusive and manipulative thing; even his parent's marriage was strongly implied to be arranged and joyless. Neither of these guys have anything decent in their personal lives to reference from!

So in my mind, while Hakuri and Chihiro have certainly heard of romantic love and thought about it themselves, they wouldn't really have an idea of what it feels or looks like to them. Couple that with being each other's first friends ever and you've got some extremely potent fluff (or angst) about them being unaware that what they're feeling isn't platonic.

You Are Worth Hell

I will follow you into the dark.

And to round things off, one of my favourite romance tropes ever! But it's not canon at all- YET.

You see, Hakuri and Chihiro are constantly pulling each other forward. When one stumbles, the other's there with a helping hand. But what happens when one descends into hell like Chihiro says he's doing this very arc? Will the other try to throw them a lifeline and hope for the best?

Nay! The other will stay by their side out of love.

This trope can veer too close to toxic situationship scenarios for comfort, it's true. Characters staying to "save" someone or letting themself get dragged down at their own expense is not healthy at all. But the core sentiment of this trope is that anything is bearable if you're with the one you love. The emphasis isn't on the mutual suffering but rather the comfort of being together despite it all.

My personal interpretation of the relationship between Hakuri and Chihiro is that one was born in hell (Hakuri) and the other has condemned himself to it (Chihiro). Hakuri's trying to rise up while Chihiro has consigned himself to sink further into the darkness. They met at at a crossroads on their respective journeys and are walking together for a while. And when Chihiro takes a turn to keep going further down, I think Hakuri will stop him from going too far. Hakuri will be the light in the gloom until the mission's over. Then they'll figure out if they can make it back up or not. And if they can't? Well, he was already at rock bottom before Chihiro came into his life. It's worth it to stay in hell at his side and face everything together.

So I think this can apply very well to HakuHiro as the current arc progresses. Hakuri choosing to stay as a partner to provide support rather than trying to save Chihiro at his own expense would be huge character growth for him. And Chihiro accepting Hakuri's gesture would be growth for him too- he doesn't have to do this alone. There's no truly Bad End for their stories if they are walking side-by-side to face the hardships together until the end.

That's it. If you got through all this, thanks. Yap at me about tropes I missed! I love hearing the myriad ways other people interpret this ship. Unless you think fixed left-right boring seme/uke stereotype ChiHaku is the only valid interpretation, in which case we can never be friends. Sorry not sorry.

[drdemonprince]

Genuine question regarding the way turning your creativity into a career has broken your brain: do you think getting a job not reliant on creative output would solve the problem, or do you think this has long term damaged your relationship with creativity?

I see so many friends who tried to "make it" as artists never pick back up with their art in the same way they did before after they reach your point, even after they get jobs outside that field.

Do you think there are things that can be done to mitigate this and repair that relationship? I wish I could help them.

oh, I uh. Also have a full time job that is not reliant upon creative output. and so that has not worked great. because i've had like double the things to do, in my mind. (tho admittedly my job is really easy and i get away with fucking off a lot). For years it was the perfect scenario because i was not relying upon my creative output for income, and so i could just do time theft from my main job and write on the clock for fun!!! but then. the shit i did for fun became a whole like Business and so now i've basically had to maintain both adequate productivity at the main job WHILE succeeding in the creative job. and i die

It's so kind of you to ask how to help your friends revive their inner creative spark and enjoy making things again. i'm not sure what the answer is. i know that i still feel moved to create. i would never stop doing it. i think what i need, personally, is to stop being a Business -- to not have an agent and editor and PR person and Marketing team and a whole host of other people needing me to do what i do and sending me new obligations all the time. my plan is to not conventionally publish anything else after this upcoming book, at least not for a long time. or to only go the small press route moving forward. i think something like that is what it takes for a lot of people in this position -- to get back into making because it is enjoyable again, and to do silly frivilous creative projects that are social, without any sense of obligation. im trying good lord im trying but ive got to retrain my nervous system to not see creative work as this scary thing i could fail at doing at any time.

[professorjirt]

ok I’m gonna bitch a little bit but I’m not going to feel bad about it bc I believe being a lover and a hater in equal measure is the key to balance or whatever.

I saw this image on Pinterest and it was the final straw for me lol. I can’t STAND this kind of interpretation of The Hobbit or Bagginshield/Thilbo because it’s so blatantly untrue. Yes, Bilbo dealt with a LOT of sadness and loneliness. Yes, he was forever changed by his journey and didn’t have the proper ways to heal and cope. But Bilbo DID move onwards. Of course he remembered Thorin and was always sad about losing him and Kíli and Fíli, and of course he still dealt with the trauma from all of that, but he wasn’t dwelling on that loss every day after he got back home. He became a social outcast not because he was mourning but because he went on an adventure at all. He could have had the happiest and non-tragic adventure in Middle Earth and he still would have ended up as “cracked” Bilbo Baggins because of the way hobbit society views that sort of behavior. He was sad for a very long time after Thorin’s death, stated directly from the book, but the implication there is that Bilbo DID eventually begin to heal and move forward. He found happiness in things again, he wasn’t wailing every night for his lost love, he was doing exactly what Thorin’s last request was, that Bilbo live his life well. Bilbo wasn’t alone forever either— Frodo came into his life as a like-minded companion and Bilbo clearly enjoyed having him around (and it wasn’t because Frodo reminded him of Thorin. I don’t mind people saying that Frodo had similarities Bilbo noticed but putting that as the only connection and draw for Bilbo towards Frodo feels like such a disservice to the true depth of Bilbo and Frodo’s relationship). When the Ring began to affect him, he was able to let it go and left to see as much as he could of his old adventures (it IS sad that he couldn’t make it to the Lonely Mountain but that doesn’t cancel out what he WAS able to get to) and reunited with quite a few of his old dwarvish companions. He was sobered by the realization of the true nature of his magic ring and, after Frodo volunteers (and Bilbo is prevented from going bc he was going to try) he is saddened that someone so close to him must deal with the burden of something he felt he started, but he stayed in Rivendell safe and taken care of until Frodo returned, and was happy to reunite with him. Bilbo then spent a few years in his advanced age but well taken care of and honored, and then got to have one final adventure. His story isn’t miserable, and it does have an end, eventually, even despite his own fears that it wouldn’t. I love Bagginshield and I acknowledge the sadness and tragedy in Bilbo’s story, but acting like he had nothing good in his life and the adventure was the single worst thing to ever happen to him is such a gross misunderstanding of not only The Hobbit but Lord of the Rings that it makes me wonder if these people care about the actual characters and not just the ‘fandom’ characters and stories they have in their head. Yes it was a tragedy that Thorin and Bilbo were parted in such a way, but making his story freeze right there isn’t fair to either of them! It feels similar to that popular fandom ship thing where people begin to act like romantic and sexual love is the only relevant aspect of any characters relationships and interactions, and center every single thing around a ‘ship’ instead of engaging with the characters entire worlds and why their relationships are interesting beyond tropes and aus. Bilbo did get to live a good and simple life!! I like tragedy, I wouldn’t be a fan of two of the most miserable characters in Tolkien’s legendarium if I didn’t, but not everything has to be that way, and it flattens the effect of the story to reduce things to only sadness.

I’m not sure how to sign off on this one, but hopefully this doesn’t come across like I’m a party pooper who hates fandom. I really don’t, I greatly enjoy participating in fandom and I don’t mind some trope work or aus being built from the original story, but when people begin to willfully twist said original story in ways it wasn’t meant to be simply because they only really care about two characters in a ship instead of the greater narrative. It feels like it disrespects who these characters are on their own, like they’re lesser when they’re not paired up, if that makes sense. Anyway, I’ve seen the sentiment about Bilbo’s life being nothing but misery after his adventure quite a few times now and I wanted to say something, even if it’s just for me, although I’m curious if anyone has anything to add or a different perspective to bring.

TLDR: Bilbo was happy and lived a good life! Let him have that! He had friends and family around him that supported him and cared about him and he did have a conclusion to his story, however long it took. Losing Thorin doesn’t mean Bilbo has nothing else.

[pinkandpurple360]

I wouldn't blame anyone for finding Look My Way too Stolas-sympathetic and weepy but honestly I think on the whole it's way better than most of the songs he gets in the show

and that's because it actually has a narrative arc to it. Stolas reflects on his life, realizes he is the problem between him and Blitzo, actually shows some empathy for the armor Blitzo has developed as a result of being impoverished, then decides on an action: making amends for making Blitzo a means to an end. and it retains his original classist character by having the impish plaything line that the show whitewashed over

it still has the same problem anything Stolas related does in that it's hard to care about his repeated pleas for Blitzo to look his way, but it's a far more concise view of him as a character and crucially he actually shows some ability to self reflect in it and then take action based on his conclusions

ParanoidDJ released the original after ep6 but honestly it would fit perfectly in the show after ep7, where Stolas comes back in from the party. instead of getting drunk, maybe he stops and makes himself think about where things went wrong

instead the songs he has in the show are

Stolas Sings - immediately implies Blitzo lied to him, so no self reflection or introspection. It's set up he'll go to get a crystal but that isn't referenced in the lyrics, it's just a split second freeze frame when he chucks his book into view of the camera which is bad storytelling. It's all self focused self pity - he's the victim and that's that. no sign of care for what he's done to Blitzo or Via unlike Look My Way.

All 2 U - a breakup reflection where he does no self reflection or introspection. blames Blitzo for stuff he did (let him get too close/go on too long/fell too far). all self focused self pity - he's the victim and that's that

duet number - does say he maybe did something wrong, but it only counts if Blitzo didn't actually want him (then when Blitzo confirms that, he proceeds to...show no self reflection or introspection - just he's the victim and that's that, you get the idea)

the show numbers not only fail to move the plot forward, they don't move Stolas' character forward at all. Look My Way really sticks out as one of his numbers because it's basically the only one where he does explicitly say 'I'm in the wrong and need to fix things' where in the show it's always 'maybe I did something wrong, maybe, but you hurt me so you're more wrong and I'm putting off doing any self reflection on what my issues are until Tuesday - when I'll put it off again'.

he's far more proactive in LMW too - he doesn't sound like he'll just give up on making amends at the first failure. meanwhile Show Stolas has done only two proactive things when it comes to Blitzo onscreen: making the deal and breaking the deal. both things were done for his own benefit and he's now back to being passive and expecting Blitzo to be the one to come crawling back to court him even though Blitzo has every reason to think he moved on with the succubus dude to spite him in particular

This moment here

It wasn’t him feeling some guilt/remorse for how obnoxious and forceful he behaved, or sympathy for Blitzs unhappiness. He is thinking “Aww….he doesn’t love me, that makes me so sad. Poor me. I deserve love. I just want a lover.”

Well anon, the simple explanation LMW stolas is so different…..is, Vivienne/Sam Haft didn’t write that. They both do think stolas is the more innocent and more victimised party. That’s why before Full Moons confrontation, stolas has sung not one, not two but three sad ballads about his soft boy romantic feelings. And it’s why stolas’ personality was changed drastically between his nasty truth seekers self to his Ozzies bleeding heart self. To make you forget his 1-6 self ever happened and pity him.

While blitz was only allowed to smirk and make sex jokes in a verse of stolas’ third sad song. With the intent of making him look like the “real” pervert with a cold black heart. His verse in when I see him was intended by Sam to set up “that your first instinct is that it’s always (gasp) about sex (closes eyes solemnly)” line. Stolas is allowed to have an inner monologue, desires, worries, regrets and hopes. Blitz is only allowed say “fuck” “penis” and “im traumatised”** with an asterisk saying that makes him an asshole and not “baby” stolas’ fault. Spoken to you in apology tour dialogue delivered by the lovely: Vivienne Mayday aka Verosika Medrano.

Viv didn’t write look my way, and disagrees with the narrative.

She hates Octavia for not being more grateful to her father and thinks stolas deserves to be free from being her parent. So took his line about her out of the song. Twitter emboldened her to go through with this belief. So she took her line out of LMW.

She hates blitz for disliking upper classes, implies he’s “just like a supremacist” against princes for it. I think this also came from Twitter. You are NOT allowed to point out the racism of stolas or you’ll be branded a striker sympathiser.

She agrees with stolas fans that the real reason blitz doesn’t trust stolas’ gifts with no catch is nothing to do with stolas’ previous exploitative transactional actions….it is….because of his own mean imp father? Because Cash taught him love is transaction. A very convenient excuse Viv absorbed again, from Twitter and YouTube.

Cuz….it was cash. Not the sexual extorter who held his job over his head. That’s his soulmate cause owls only mate once via eye contact and die of broken hearts if they can’t have their mate forever. His 25 year long lust for someone he only knew as a child isn’t weird at all wdym. In fact all the bad stuff is Blitzs fault.

She absorbed all of this nonsense from Twitter takes, specifically the stolas stans, because she thinks putting fandom talking points into canon is a safe bet. The actual story is out the window, there isn’t one.

See how letting the stolas fandom twitter write your story for you makes for a biased fucked up victim blaming story that coddles a sexual abuser with “involuntarily celibate” arguments?

When she makes stolas reflect and take accountability, the reaction she wants you to have is “Poor baby stolas blames himself which shows what a good little boy he is! Even though nothing is ever his fault!” She just wanted to make money off of someone else’s work.

[vladdyissues]

so i keep thinking about just how thoroughly knocking vlad up would fix a lot of his issues (or it does in the series as my ass would write it). i also keep thinking the timing is SO bad on giving him any in the canon

SO

TIME TRAVEL

-Danny (late teens) is given a chance to change the past

-he decides to go and antagonize Vlad a few years before canon to distract him from murder attempts on Jack. draw his wrath onto himself and displace his previous rage target. that's a nice safe range of time travel right? how badly could he possibly throw things off when he already exists and is most of the way to who he was when he was starting out?

-small side effect--he catches Vlad's full attention. he hadn't planned to go after Jack and Maddie for a few years yet, when everything was lined up, meaning Danny is the ONLY one he has eyes for right now. it's a level of intensity he was not ready for

-Vlad, meanwhile, is unprepared for how he feels to see another half-ghost. he had been ready to go those whole 20 years totally alone, preparing for that perfect moment of sweeping Maddie off her feet. now it's a little difficult to focus on the big picture. he needs to figure out EVERYTHING about this stranger

-over a course of about three months, shit gets romantic. and physical. not necessarily in that order

-Danny realizes he's THOROUGHLY fucked the timeline as WELL as his archnemesis, so actually tells Vlad the whole story--he can't stay in the past forever, but his memories of being here and doing this will sort of... snap into place when this timeline's danny reaches the right age. Here's events between then and now, here's things he would like to still happen, here's things he never wants to happen

-he does NOT expect Vlad to wait and they're still in that spicy in-between part of enemies-to-lovers so Vlad sure as fuck isn't promising that, but he's certain he isn't obsessing on taking Maddie from Jack anymore, so looks forward to the option of picking up where they left off

-(dick so good it can fix homicidal rage)

-Danny goes back to the new future at the end of those three months since much longer and he'd start forgetting relevant details in living a day to day life and ohhhhh fuck, fuck, FUCK WHAT DID HE DO

-meanwhile in the past Bitter Reunions happens and Vlad has no desire to do anything to Jack or Maddie besides introduce them to his adorable tiny four, soon to be five year old daughter Danielle, with whom he plans to move to Amity Park soon when she starts kindergarten. openly offers to train Danny with no strings attached, he's just invested in making sure he survives for at least a few more years

-(jailbait wait, but make it sci-fi)

-Vlad is much more chill about things with an attainable goal and a small child that needs him at his best

-he doesn't see his Danny in this newbie, but now he knows the future, knows that if he's just patient and helps Danny out now, HIS Danny will come back to him

-when the timelines eventually sync, THERE'S THAT FULL, INTENSE, ATTENTION AGAIN

-as well as several years of memories of becoming intensely attached to Dani and Vlad being an infuriating jackass without being an antagonizing one, keeping some of that hateful spice without actively committing crimes against everything Danny values. in fact, his help was still instrumental in pulling things off

-Vlad has been waiting for this Danny for some time now, full-on obsession building up steam, so if Danny wants it to not happen, he had better say something about it

-he does not. he kinda dreaded losing it on snapping forward, actually. and Vlad managed to thread the needle of training him and building a bond with Dani without totally shifting their relationship's tone

Time Travel makes me cry because my stupid ogre brain is not good at parsing temporal phenomena but the parts I understood were excellent and make perfect sense. And the thought of Jack and Maddie being surprised (and maybe relieved, because 20 years without a peep from Vlad and suddenly a party invite? Kinda unnerving. Is he still mad?) to find their old college friend is a happy single father to an adorable little girl who—wow, Jack, doesn't she look so much like Danny when he was that age?—is just 💯💯💯

And Vlad knowing that there's something wonderful (a relationship, family, love, connection and understanding like he's never felt before) waiting for him at the end of this journey if he can just be patient would, I think, do a lot to tone down his villainous proclivities.

Vlad's essential problem is that he's so desperately lonely and impatient that he can't see beyond his immediate need to satisfy himself. He can formulate elaborate plans, yes, but he doesn't really plan for the future beyond those plans. He's totally still living in the past (at least until this AU happens), metaphorically driving a car with the pedal to the metal but looking nowhere except the rear view mirror. And this AU totally breaks that and gets him looking ahead, invested in the present again. I love it.

[1920sladydectective]

Two Steps Forward, One Forest Back 2.8K

This is for @kkatsukiswife who had an awesome idea and let me write it! I hope it fulfils your expectations, it's a little longer than I'd intended.

Head of Medarda Oil Corp, Ambessa is exhausted by the silly environmental scientist who keeps ruining her expansion. There's only one way to fix that.

Cross posted to AO3

MINORS DNI

Warnings: Degradation, Tipsy Sex, Exhibitionism and Dumbification kinda, Choking, Bathroom Sex, mentions of bondage

This is NOT proofread cause fuck that:

It had only been three months and yet every moment spent working for the Medarda corporation seemed to shave years off of your life. 

You had gone in so rosy eyed, certain you would be changing the future for the better, making a huge environmental impact, finally able to regulate and report the bastards rotting the world. Your boss, manipulative asshole that she was, had basically promised as much. Instead you sat in opulent boardrooms, battling the wolves as they attempted to turn the world to ash and profit margins. 

CEO Ambessa Medarda was the worst to deal with, her children at least seemed to possess half a conscience. She, however, stared across the mahogany table and tried to devour your soul. It started as small things, not reading your reports before shareholder meetings, or perhaps misquoting some of your numbers. Easily corrected, if you could stand the dark gaze she’d send your way. 

“Of course,” She’d simper, “Thank you for that, my Dear,” 

Soon it became more outrageous, your body flooding with cortisol at every new email you received. Their drilling sight was in a forest, though if you were to point that out she would remind you it was well within the guidelines of oil drilling near wildlife and flora. Well within was a handful of metres, as close as they could have gotten, and every time your numbers remind you of that you have to do a meditative breathing exercise. This wasn’t enough for Ambessa though, there was more just within the treeline and her recent campaign had made it clear she wanted it regardless of the consequences. 

Meeting Four - 24th August 2024 - Recorded Minutes 

AM - Surely a matter of inches will make no impact, gentlemen, and look at the margin of profit. Nobody else has been able to secure a site like this, it would be sellable at an astounding premium. 

ES - Nobody has secured that sort of site for a reason, Mrs Medarda. The havoc it would cause to the local ecosystem is immense, and it is illegal for that reason. 

AM - Not illegal per new legislation, just heavily regulated. 

ES - Do you have any proposals to help you meet those regulations? I seem to be looking at stocks and traders and very little else. 

AM - All in due time

ES - Due time is now Mrs Medarda

You could still feel the air being sucked from the room. It was as bold as you had gotten so far, and her crimson smirk seemed to ward you off of doing it again. The day after the meeting, none of your alarms had gone off, your expensive eco-friendly coffee machine broke and your company key-card stopped working. It had to be a coincidence, but you had been looking over your shoulder ever since. 

Ambessa lingered like a shark who could smell blood. Her beautiful, towering form monitoring your every move. Sometimes, in the quiet early morning it would be only you and her in the building. Her scent seemed to linger, heady and sharp, her sparkling eyes and sarcastic smiles hyper focused on you. It was heavy, such attention, especially when a deep, villainous part of your soul would remind you that she was just your type. Imposing, commanding, insanely muscular. Had you seen her on the streets your mouth would have watered. She couldn’t know that though. Never, ever. She was flirtatious enough when she thought you had no interest, she’d rip your moral compass to shreds if she got a taste of your inner turmoil. She wanted to eat you and you would not let her. 

Her voice, melodic and low, was suddenly in your ear. For Fuck Sake.

“Another eighty nine page legal document in my inbox, darling,” She was so close, so close you twitched, “You really are ensuring the best for our company,” 

“Wouldn’t want you to rush into any development decisions without knowing all the facts,” You said, raising an eyebrow with a shrug, “Bad for business,”

“You’d know all about being bad for business,” She said alluringly, sharp teeth glinting behind her lips, making you gulp slightly. 

She walked away with no other words, her hips swaying impossibly slowly as she took long purposeful strides. You almost groaned, downing cold, bitter coffee beans. This job was going to kill you. 

Days passed in a blur, each one filled with heavy looks and cutting remarks. Each day she moved three steps forward and you pushed her four back. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, you thought she’d throttle you against the wall for all to see. 

One day she did. 

You were gasping, body trembling, as she held you against the boardroom table by your throat, fingers trailing your inner thighs. Her gruff voice was taunting you, teasing your aching core as she squeezed your neck just enough for your vision to blur. She had had enough of your interference, showing you how weak you truly were. 

“You’d know all about being bad for business,” She mocked, licking your hard clit. 

There was nothing you could do but submit, babbling and grunting as she finally gave you the touch you craved. Her name fell from your lips in a perverse prayer, wanton and airy. 

You were so close, she could tell, eyes glossy as you thrust into her touch. Your orgasm ripped through you, making you scream. 

Neon numbers glimmered. 3:14AM. 

You’d just had a sex dream about your corrupt oil baron boss, real enough to dampen your sheets. Your body ached and against better judgement you reached into your nightstand, vibrator wiping your mind of all thoughts until you cummed yourself back to sleep. 

As the morning beckoned, so did your crippling, sticky guilt. You couldn’t keep going on like this, you had to get it out of your system and not by having graphic dreams about Ambessa Fucking Medarda. There was only one thing for it, you would have to get drunk at the artsy lesbian bar downtown and fuck a random stranger. Obviously. 

You felt good. Your hair had styled just right, your make up hadn’t made you screech irritatedly at your cat and for once heels didn’t feel awful. This was going well. You were going to get some. Or something. 

The bar was packed, full of swaying hips and swishing hair as you creeped your way to the bar. Cocktails were on offer, dangerous and delicious as you sat swinging your legs on a barstool. Music had you swaying in time, downing drink after drink as you fluttered your eyelashes at every pretty girl who glanced your way. You’d never been too good at the chase, but you were desperate enough to try. 

Dancing was freeing, body moving of its own accord as you twirled in circles and gripped strangers arms, moving fast and close together. Everything felt naturally fuzzy, light and right, exactly as you’d needed. She hadn’t even crossed your mi-

Ambessa stood tall, leaving lazily against the bar as a drunken brunette tried to chat her up. She was sweet enough, giggly and open, relishing in any attention she gave her. She wasn’t quite right though, Ambessa sighed, her parameters were incredibly specific tonight. Almost impossibly so and yet. There you were, tipsy yourself clearly, dancing in the arms of a short blonde woman. Ambessa’s lips curled into a devious grin, waiting patiently for you to catch her eye. 

No. Just no. 

Your gaze was stuck to hers, a magnet pulling you in as your mind swirled. She looked perfect, the confines of the business world had melted away to reveal raw sex appeal. Her muscles seemed larger, clearer as her shirt and trousers clung to her. Her thighs were too delicious, her gold make up adding a shimmer to her dark eyes. You faintly felt the blonde woman’s hands on your hips as you moved, mind full of cotton. Ambessa raised her glass, tilting it towards you mockingly, her grin eating at you. 

Want. Need. All consumin- No. Enough. Goodbye Ambessa. 

Your burning form turned away from her, extracting yourself from the dance and looping the long way back to the other side of the bar, hidden from Ambessa’s position. Downing a tequila shot, you grunted. Your plan was fucked and you needed to leave here as soon as possible, but she was right by the exit. Panicked, you slipped into the bathroom, fingers gripping the art deco sink for life as you huffed. You looked as good as you had when you left home and yet you felt a state, lips puffy and hair seemingly unkempt. 

Click

“Hello there, darling,” Ambessa’s honeyed voice echoed in the tiny bathroom as she locked the main door, “Fancy seeing you here,” 

Your mouth dried, her beauty almost stifling this close, “Mrs Medarda,”

“We’re in a gay bar Dear, you can call me Ambessa,” She snorted, stepping to rest just to your right. She was circling you in her head, your body the sweetest prey she could hope to hunt. 

“Ambessa,” You repeated, unsure, “What do you want?” 

She laughed almost pityingly, it was seductive, frustrating, just like the rest of her as she murmured your name. 

“Me?” Heat burns in your gut, making you cramp with need, the alcohol in your blood no match for the warmth of lust. 

“Of course,” Her hand cupped your chin, forcing you to hold her gaze, “I’ve always wanted you, you must know you drive me to distraction,”

It seemed unlikely, her distracted by anything, but it was such an arousing, tempting thought. Your mouth lulled open in a small gasp, her fingers tickling against your neck. You were done for, mind melting down between your legs the longer she looked at you. It felt like she could sense it, her other hand bending you slightly as your hands scrambled to lie against the ornate mirror so that you could steady yourself, stomach now against the sink. 

“What?” You stammered, as she sank to the floor, strong elbows nudging your legs apart. 

“You’re not naive, pretty girl,” She breathed, her words dancing across your bare thighs, “You’ve got too many brains in your soft head for that,” 

It was odd to be complimented by her, especially for your intelligence. It made you feel proud and happy. Her praise was immediately addictive, spilling forth from blood red lips as she kissed and nipped at your skin. Each word a nail in the coffin of your demise, each kiss a moment longer being drowned by her. You were stuck, and as you caught your own hazy, tipsy expression in the mirror you giggled. Oops. 

Ambessa rewarded your giggle with a lick against your clothed cunt, her tongue flat and slow. Everything went silent for a moment as you bucked against her grip, whining. 

“Good girl,” She hummed, “Soaked for me,” 

“God,” you slurred, she had you desperate and aching. 

“We can make that my name if you like,” She muttered mockingly, pushing aside your lacy underwear and lapping at your drenched hole. Her touch was considerate, fast and calculated as you huffed and sighed. Her strong hands gripped your hips, rocking you against the basin as she fucked you mercilessly with her tongue. She could feel the dwindling hesitance in you, the desire to submit held back by weak moral strings. It was okay, she thought, she’d snap those as you came into her mouth. 

Her goal was simple, make you an empty headed doll for her to ruin, mark and stuff you until you finally understood how to respect her. Then she might actually get somewhere. You were in your own world of pleasure, following her movements as you trembled and burned. It felt so good, better than any dream could have been. 

Your orgasm was close, taunting you and making your vision dance with pretty white stars. Some weak, nearly dead part of you wanted to resist it, to uphold some control. She didn’t own you. Not yet at least. The resistance was too late however, as thick, calloused fingers teased and stretched your cunt out of nowhere, just as she sucked your hard clit into her wet, perfect mouth. Your mind and morals shattered like pretty iridescent glass. 

“Fuck,” You cried against the mirror, eyes rolling into your head, “Shit fuck,” 

“That’s my slut,” Ambessa said, savouring the sloppy liquid dripping down your thighs. 

The nickname surprised and confused you, heavy head looking down at her. 

“What else could you be?” She said commandingly, sucking her fingers dry as your eyes glazed, “You’re so good for me, taking what I give you, like a whore would,” 

You nodded, legs trembling. You did want to take it. Take it all. Whatever she said. It almost made you feel drunker, though the tequila had long since floated through you now. 

“If I had known it would be this easy to make you pliant and soft,” She muttered huskily, words touching your ear as she stood, “I’d have bent you over my desk weeks ago, Little girl,” 

That enough made a small orgasm flutter out, your chest heaving as stared into her eyes in the reflection. Her hand slapped against your wet pussy, making you smile as you blew a little kiss her way. 

Ambessa snorted, smoothing over your slightly sweaty hairline. You were so pretty, even better now you were hers. 

“Watch yourself,” She muttered hypnotically, “In the mirror,” 

You hummed, glancing at yourself. She was pretty to stare at but you didn’t want to make her unhappy. Suddenly, it felt as though you were being lifted above the ground slightly, her strong arm holding you as she stuffed three fingers into you. 

The stretch burned, making you snarl slightly as she made you whole. That was how it felt. Complete and perfect, as the look of your clouded, slutty face made you hornier. You loved how she made you look, how she made you feel, obscene slapping sounds filling the bathroom. 

A light shove against the door, your moan choking in your throat as exhilaration at being quite suffocated you. 

“Oh,” A distant drunken sigh, “This bathroom’s closed for repairs, let’s try the other,” 

Ambessa bit your neck, sucking at your sweet spot, as she felt you clench and gush at the sound of voices, “You like that, Good girl? The thought of them knowing a horny mess is being fucked into oblivious in a random bar?”

You nodded, neck aching with the force as you continued to stare at yourself. Any time your gaze drifted to her she would stop dead, eyes dark. After the second time it nearly killed you and you forced yourself to meet your drooling expression. Ambessa seemed intent on sending you over the edge, thinking she had all of you but your longing voice proved her wrong. 

“My throat,” You moaned, “Need you to c-crush it, like my,” a desperate whine, “like my dreams,” 

Ambessa felt herself black out slightly at your request, your whimpering and begging making her own cunt twitch wantonly. She dropped your feet back onto the navy tile, hand wrapping around your neck with measured pressure. The change was immediate, your body no longer tense and twitching, but limp like the doll she’d dreamed off. You took her relentless thrusts, effortlessly, as she made your blood rush and pulse in her ears. Air wasn’t necessary unless she gave it to you, tongue lolling out of your mouth. You came as suddenly as last time, losing your vision as you squirted down her arm, lungs greedily inhaling air as she crushed your throat and released it. 

You don’t really remember how you’d moved from the bathroom, mind empty as strong arms tidied you up as much as possible and led you through the warm crowds. A long, sleek car sat waiting for her and you were gently placed in it. You’d never been in a limousine before, not that you had any brain capacity to appreciate it. 

“Precious girl,” She cooed, stroking your cheek as she pushed you onto the carpeted floor of the car, “I think it’s your turn, don’t you?” 

She’d slipped her trousers off and her cunt was bare for you to get lost in. You almost squealed in excitement, nuzzling and licking happily all to serve her. It took hours, moving from car, to against her front door and finally in her silky, warm bed. Toys, a violent pounding from behind and some soft ropes had you pleading to serve her, to be used and owned. 

You had been right, there was no coming back from the sweet bliss of her control, consequences be damned. 

Ambessa liked you against her, devoted and spent as she spun commands for you, all sinking into your malleable mind as she fed you sips of water and scratched your scalp. 

Pretty little girl. You were hers now, and so was that fucking forest.

[yerimacoustic]

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 ♡ 𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙨 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

❝𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ❞🕰️ 🍂

summary: when you and your ex husband receive a mysterious letter, the two of you are forced to confront confusing emotions and learn how to move forward.

content warnings: supernatural au, nonidol au, ghost hunter!seungcheol and reader, 90s au, seungcheol and reader are divorced, angst, cursing, horror themes, eventual fluff, lots of arguments, scary stuff, NO GORE. teaser: 800 wc. full fic: TBD.

notes: this is a TEASER for an upcoming s coups fic!! usually putting out little snippets first gives me motivation to write the damn thing lol but please interact if you like it! feedback is always appreciated

as you approached the front door of your small apartment, the wind assisted you in slamming it shut. the air stayed just as cold even once you found yourself sheltered within the thin walls, but you’d grown accustomed to it. you’d made a habit of sorting through your mail and listening to your voicemails without planning to respond to any of them, hoping that it would distract you from the cold.  

you plopped down at the kitchen table, pressing the speaker button and letting your chin rest in the palm of your hand once the receiver lay across the tablecloth.   

“you have twelve new messages. first message: 

“‘hey, y/n, it’s jeonghan. call me back. or else. okay love you, bye!’

“second message:

“‘jeonghan again! if you deleted the first mess-”

click.

“message marked for deletion. new message:

‘listen, we would all really appreciate it if you could come to bingo night. i know you’ve bailed on us the last…four or five times. or ten times, but who’s counting? anyways, call me back, or else. love you!’ 

you sighed heavily as you listened through the rest of jeonghan’s pleadings and eventually seungkwan’s rants. somehow jeonghan had convinced seungkwan to spam your landline with messages too, hoping that he would help persuade you to join them on their traditional outing. once again, you wondered why you had fallen into the habit of listening to messages without any intention of returning them. 

surprisingly, seungkwan and jeonghan weren’t the only ones lingering in your inbox. there was also a message from your boss, the pharmacy, and..

“‘hey… it’s seungcheol. please don’t hang up. i know you specifically told me not to use this phone number but.. okay, i won’t bore you with anymore excuses.’”

much to your own surprise, you chose to humor your ex husband. you continued to let the message play out. as you sat down at the table, you let the stack of mail fall to your lap while staring at the receiver in silence.  

“‘listen, i’ve been thinking lately and..i have a lot of regrets.’”

you snickered bitterly. 

“‘i know there’s not much i can say to make things better or.. change things that happened between us. hell, you’ve probably already deleted this message by now and i can’t really blame you for that. i don’t have a lot of time, i’ve ran out of change but.. i’d love to talk to you at some point. in person. if you’re up for that then.. you know where to reach me. bye.’

“to replay this mess-”

click. 

“message marked for deletion. your inbox is empty. you have no new mes-”

you slammed the receiver down and let out a heavy sigh. ever since the divorce, you felt like seungcheol had taken a part of you with him. you turned to isolation, ignoring family members and friends constantly in favor of drowning yourself in your work. you were able to keep up with the deadlines, but at a heavy cost.

it’s for the best, you kept telling yourself.

you digressed, flipping through the large stack of envelopes instead of dwelling on your own sadness. you were met with the all too familiar sight of bills, bills, and more bills until a thick brown envelope seemingly materialized from the bottom of the pile. you had no memory of picking it up or even seeing it in your mailbox. 

there was a wax seal in the center of the envelope, a dark red skull. a little on the nose, but alright. you ripped it open, taking note of the gorgeous stationery before focusing on the words written in cursive and immediately cringing at the foreign use of your maiden name:

miss l/n, 

i hope you don’t find this letter to be invasive or frightening by any means, but i’ve heard a great deal about your work. i’ve read a number of articles concerning your cases and i must say i am impressed. i’ve always admired believers of the supernatural, especially in a world filled with skeptics. 

i know you’re probably out of experience, given it's been a year or two since your last job and circumstances have changed, but i would love a chance to talk with you about an ongoing issue in my home. there’s voices, objects moving, frigid winds.. you name it. 

my home address is attached to this letter. please give it some thought and keep in mind i’m willing to pay you handsomely for your troubles.

best wishes to you. 

it wasn’t surprising to know that your mysterious client knew about your divorce, considering it was in most of the papers. at least the stupid journalists were considerate enough to leave most of the details out of their articles. 

but you were almost certain no one knew about your new home address except for your inner circle.

[elrielffs]

the way people downplay azriel and try to up lucien is so funny to me. this fandom babies lucien so much, i literally cannot. why are we acting like lucien is innocent? he isnt.

I have no idea. I think Eluciens or Lucien fans really cling to that first book version of Lucien and yah, he was interesting in that book, flaws and trying to send Feyre into a trap to kill her and all and had some great scenes UTM.

But imo he becomes such a non-character and plot device afterwards. SJM does not give him any major scenes and packs him off out of the plot--no chemistry scenes with Elain (him figuring out she's a Seer etc would have been a BIG moment for them, especially after Madja stating a mate would know what's wrong, but that's given to Azriel), no major scenes with Feyre that is not a means to move the plot forward, not a major player in the Meeting with the High Lords, the only thing he gets to do is go look for Vassa and I've seen Eluciens and stans opine that his big moment of returning with ships and an army was taken by Archeron Papa in ACOWAR.

And yeah, that's very telling that the culmination of his contribution to the story is given a grand entrance/reveal to another character. And SJM didn't just forget about him in that moment.

After that, Lucien is packed up and sent away again out of the narrative. Even though we don't see a majority of characters or Elain in ACOSF it would still mean something if we knew Lucien was actually there but he isn't. It's like SJM really can't be bothered with him atm.

This is my personal opinion but SJM writes Lucien post-ACOTAR with no flavor. Idk if she lost interest or just transferred that to Eris but like...

And as for Lucien beating Azriel in a Blood Duel? Absolutely not. Azriel trains if not every day, then weekly. Azriel uses his skills frequently. Lucien has sat in the Spring Court and gets winded going on a hike. Even with his supposed powers as a High Lord's son...Azriel was able to topple Eris so that's a no go as well. There's no version where Lucien beats Azriel on Azriel's worst day and Lucien's best. Rhysand even states that Azriel is almost as powerful as him and Rhysand is the most powerful High Lord ever.

Also...Azriel would never had sat by and let Jurian make a rape joke about Elain, mate or not. For all people go on how "gentlemanly" and "good" Lucien is...

And despite all what I typed, I don't hate Lucien. I'm just firmly neutral on him as SJM hasn't done anything with him truly after ACOTAR. People say Elain is boring but Lucien is truly, truly the most boring character in the series for me and the sad thing is, there are things to work with there, there are things SJM could have done but she didn't. (Jesminda, the Autumn Court, how he's supposedly a sly fox, his Human Land travels, his Jerry Springer daddy trouble)

If Lucien was a spice, he would be flour.

[so-that-was-okay]

I would honestly love your opinion. Based on everything.........what do you feel will happen with BuckTommy going forward? :(

Thank you ♥️♥️

Hey anon!

A lot has been going on lately. And I haven't seen yesterday's episode yet, though I saw some scenes so I know where we're at right now when it come to this. (spoilers from 808 ahead).

I think several things come into play when looking at this storyline. To me, right now, anything can happen. The show clearly left an open door and Buck is even keeping the fire going in the hearth. Tommy can come back anytime.

Now, because it's not the Buck and Tommy show, things will take some time. I don't fully trust anything Oliver and Tim say in interviews. The problem with them is that they know things we don't, they project themselves based on that, they have several outlines maybe too. So when they answer a simple question, there's not one answer. So I won't refer to anything they said but to what we saw on screen. And what we saw is a breakup out of fear of commitment to avoid a bigger heartbreak. There's love, plenty of it, but Tommy has his own past and what we saw was the result of this painful past.

Then in 807, Buck was clearly not over Tommy. This storyline is still going on. In 808, I didn't expect any mention of Tommy because 807 could have been enough. Yet, the "baking your feelings" came back, Buck hasn't moved on. It's intentional. This is the story right now.

In the second half of the season, I think we'll see Tommy again but not immediately. First, Buck will go through a period of acceptance, and as I said in a previous post, I'm sure he'll date one or two people, short-lived flings with nice people but who will only prove that Tommy was it. This is classic romcom storyline. After the breakup comes the heartbreak and denial phase, then the main character is set free of those feelings for a while and think they can start a new love life, only to realize it's not working. If 911 follows the tradition, then Buck and Tommy should meet at least once, maybe on a call, or during their respective dates. It's awkward but it's also the key moment that reignite the fire.

But I'm a wait and see person so even if I'm rather optimistic about their story in 8b, I don't have any real expectations. This show has proven to be unpredictable with Buck's love life, at this point I'm just casually following to see what will happen and if Tommy will be back.

As to what I really want to happen? Oh, Tim better crash that chopper and make Buck and the 118 be the ones to pull him out of it, proving they're here for him.

[sideblogformentalhealtshit]

My fucking internet went out while drawing and that for some fucking incomprehensible reason glitched out my drawing program and deleted fucking everything i'd done. I'm going to fucking kill myself

[dawntheduckrb]

I love how you can purposely cater you internet experience to block most politics so you can mentally detox since your media consumption was becoming unhealthy, and still have a whole week of attempting to regain your hope in humanity become completely undone by wanting to eat lunch with your mom (ramble in tags, feel free to ignore; take care of yourselves first <3)

[bandzboy]

idk if this is an upopular opinion but... i kinda hate when people say that "they don't do songs like this anymore" when it comes to a certain genre of music that was done in a specific era of music because... there are some things that should just stay in that time frame if music was the same every single year it would lack personality and things would be boring! years and decades of music have their certain and distinctive sounds of music and i think that's the beauty of it! there's no need to be consumed by nostalgia just be open to new things