#anything more than subtle makes me uncomfortable

[crystallinestars]

NSFW Alphabet - Kinich

In honor of Kinich's birthday, I wrote a NSFW alphabet to celebrate. There's just something about him that has a firm grip on me, and I've been unable to stop thinking about him for a solid month. I'm posting this at 11:11 (my time), so let this also be a tribute in the hopes he'll come home on his rerun 🙏

Kinich x fem!Reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Kinich is quite good at aftercare. He’s attentive to your needs and asks how you’re feeling and if you need him to get you anything or help with cleanup. Even before you say anything, his keen eye picks up on your physical state, and Kinich will go out of his way to help you with whatever he can.

He gets you whatever you ask for, be it water, a towel, or a kiss, and carries you to the shower if you’re too weak to walk. He apologizes for being too rough on you and makes a mental note to be gentler next time. Kinich makes it up to you by letting you rest and taking care of your household duties the following day.

After cleaning up, if it’s not too late in the day, he’ll whip up a simple meal for you to share. Alternatively, he might stay in bed and cuddle if he needs the rest. Kinich enjoys cuddling after sex and basking in the afterglow. There’s something nice about holding and treating you with tenderness after such a passionate encounter. It deepens his affection for you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Kinich doesn’t have a favorite body part on himself, but he does prize his body as a whole. His childhood taught him early on the importance of having a well-maintained body. Without it, he wouldn’t have survived. It’s also his bargaining chip with Ajaw, so he considers his body to be one of his greatest assets. Kinich takes care to stay in shape, which his physically demanding commissions and extreme sports hobby make easy to accomplish.

As for your body, Kinich also has no preference. He loves you for who you are rather than what you look like, but he does have a slight fascination with the nape of your neck. He catches himself wanting to kiss it when standing or lying behind you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It’s thin and a healthy white. Has a slightly salty flavor. Doesn’t have a strong preference for where to cum, but he usually does it inside unless you tell him otherwise. He is hesitant to cum on your face because he thinks you won’t like that. You’ll need to tell him it’s okay otherwise he’ll avoid that area.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

The first time you wore a swimsuit, Kinich was captivated by how pretty you looked. He already thought you were attractive, but something about seeing you in a flattering swimsuit and exposing so much skin made him pause and take an appreciative glance at you. His usual stoic expression didn’t change, but Ajaw noticed the subtle way Kinich’s eyes trailed down your figure, lingering on you for a moment too long.

Of course, Ajaw’s immediate response was to mock Kinich for checking you out, and the Saurian Hunter had to lock the menace away to keep him quiet. Though it would have been embarrassing to be exposed for checking you out, Kinich worried more about Ajaw making you uncomfortable with his blunt and crass commentary, so he did what he could to prevent that. Kinich also complimented your appearance, wanting you to know he thought you looked pretty in your swimsuit. (There was also a lot of fruit bribing happening behind your back so Ajaw wouldn’t open his big mouth once he was let out)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Kinich has no experience. He never sought romantic or sexual relationships, preferring to be by himself and taking care of his sexual needs on his own. Intimate relationships weren’t a priority or something he was interested in. Once Ajaw entered his life, the pixelated menace’s rudeness and narcissism kept others away from Kinich, so such chances became even fewer, though Kinich didn’t mind.

Despite having no prior experience, Kinich does have a working knowledge of sex. He sees it mostly as a means of reproduction, but he’s read and heard enough to know it’s also done for pleasure, to relieve stress, and to deepen bonds between romantic partners. He never really gave it much thought until he formed a romantic relationship with you and wondered if sex was something you wanted to have with him in the future. He looked into it more once you started discussing the possibility of being sexually intimate. Due to his cautious nature, Kinich wants to be prepared for all kinds of situations, so he spends a great deal of time researching guides and tips on how to have safe sex.

The Saurian Hunter doesn’t let his inexperience hold him back. Even during your first time, he acts assertively and confidently when exploring your body and learning your likes and dislikes but remains gentle. Kinich’s preparedness gives him a good idea of what to do to please you and keep things comfortable and safe so you can both enjoy the experience. However, as a beginner to sexual intimacy, he would still appreciate it if you gave him some guidance on how you want to be pleased and communicated with him about your needs. He wants to polish his skills to please you to the best of his ability.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Kinich favors classic positions like missionary, cowgirl, and doggystyle.

Missionary allows him to see your face and establish a more intimate emotional connection. It’s his go-to when he craves romantic lovemaking. It also makes it easy to kiss you, hold your hand, and bite your neck. Kinich enjoys variations on missionary as well, such as hiking your legs onto his shoulders or pressing your knees to your chest for deeper and tighter penetration.

With cowgirl, he enjoys letting you take the reins and move how you like. There’s something hot about watching you bounce on his lap and get off with his cock, not to mention the alluring view he has of your body. While you ride him, Kinich helps guide your hips with his hands and thrusts up into you when he gets closer to his peak.

As for doggystyle, Kinich likes to use this position when you don’t have as much time to make love but still need sexual relief. It’s a tad primal, and he’s fond of the tighter squeeze this position offers. Watching you melt and moan under him makes his self-control slip a little, so Kinich tends to fuck you harder in this position. He presses his chest against your back, blanketing your body with his to stay close to you and because he likes biting your neck and shoulders.

Kinich’s athleticism and equipment allow him to try some less conventional sex positions, though he generally won’t choose them unless you express an interest in trying something new. If you so wish, he’ll use his strength and flexibility to try out one of the more difficult positions, or even get out the ropes and hooks, but only after careful research about the associated safety hazards. Sex should be fun, yes, but doing so safely is still a higher priority for him. The last thing he wants is for either of you to get injured.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As with most things, Kinich approaches sex seriously, but he does try to keep the mood relaxed. He doesn’t crack jokes, but his demeanor softens. He asks for permission to touch you, and frequently inquires if you’re okay and want to keep going, giving you a chance to stop should you want it. He takes your needs and comfort very seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Has a small patch of curly dark hair. He grooms it just enough to keep it orderly but doesn’t spend a lot of time trimming it to perfection.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Kinich is not the greatest romantic, but he does value an emotional connection during sex. He has come a long way in learning to trust and open up to people since his turbulent childhood, but the vulnerability and intimacy that come with sex and romance can make him uneasy. As such, Kinich only has sex with someone he deeply loves and trusts. Only such a person has the privilege to witness such a vulnerable part of himself.

Because he views most things in life as a transaction, if you entrust your heart and body to him, Kinich will see it as his duty to show the same amount of love and trust in return. He cherishes your trust and affection and wants to repay you in kind. This manifests in him holding your hand during lovemaking, openly looking at you with desire and adoration, and leaving soft kisses all over your skin.

He’s not the best with words, but Kinich tries his best to compliment you. It’s nothing flowery, usually just a simple “you look beautiful” while he admires your figure, or “you feel good”, and of course a whispered “I love you” during tender lovemaking.

As mentioned previously, Kinich values your comfort so he frequently asks how you’re feeling and if you want to keep going. He doesn’t want to force you if you don’t feel ready or want to stop, and neither does he want to push your body past its limits. Hurting or upsetting you is the absolute last thing he wants, so he gives you opportunities to leave the situation in case you want them. He’s very considerate towards you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Kinich doesn’t masturbate often. He’s usually busy completing commissions so he doesn’t have the luxury of thinking about his sexual needs. If he needs to relieve stress, then his preference for that is through extreme sports.

Nonetheless, he still experiences the urge for sexual relief, so Kinich usually masturbates while taking a bath. It’s one of the few moments he has completely to himself, plus it makes cleaning up any evidence of his lewd activities extremely easy. Kinich is cautious, however, and stifles his voice and other sounds to remain discreet.

He usually doesn’t think about anything while jacking off, but when he fell in love with you, he caught himself masturbating more often and fantasizing about you in your swimsuit or of you touching him like this. He was ashamed of thinking of you this way at first, but that shame went away once you became sexually intimate. If you ever ask him about whether he thought of you while masturbating, though, he will be honest and forthright when admitting that he had and still does when you’re not available.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Kinich leans more dominant, but he doesn’t enforce his authority. He doesn’t order you around or give commands, but he can pin your wrists down and act assertive to get what he wants from you (all while being respectful of your wishes and first gauging if it’s something you’re anticipating him to do. Kinich would never force himself on you).

He’s fine with you taking the lead if you have an interest in being dominant, and looks forward to seeing what you have in mind for your session together.

One of his biggest kinks is marking. Kinich likes to leave hickeys and bite marks all over your skin, particularly your neck, shoulders, and inner thighs. It’s a primal urge he gets when having sex, and he takes delight in seeing his marks on you in the following days. It makes him feel like he’s staked his claim on you, marking you as his. Of course, he doesn’t go overboard and listens to you if you say you don’t want the marks to be visible. He’ll settle for marking up your shoulders or inner thighs where the marks won’t be seen by anyone except him.

Kinich is also into hearing you beg. He won’t go out of his way to tease and demand you beg for his touch, but if you do so of your own volition (ex: “Kinich please, I need you”) then it sets off something primal inside him. Hearing how needy you are for his touch sends sparks of lust through him and makes him eager to fulfill your desires.

He’s also into light bondage. Nothing complicated, just some scarves or rope to tie your wrists with will do (his knots are secure, but he makes sure the bindings are loose enough to not chafe your skin. Though he’ll tighten them if you ask). Conversely, he can use his hands to pin your wrists down (and lace your fingers together). He’s not into being tied himself, though.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Kinich isn’t against having sex outdoors, but only if you’re in a location that’s safe from potential intruders and wild beasts. He’s open to making love to you while camping, be it in a tent or under the starlit sky but won’t push you if you’re not comfortable with the idea.

At home, to avoid getting caught by Ajaw, Kinich prefers to have sex either in the bedroom or bathroom where you have more privacy. On the occasions when he gets a friend to babysit the menace, Kinich is down to make love pretty much anywhere at home, he’s not picky.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

One of the best ways to turn Kinich on is to express your love for him. Heartfelt words of affection, acts of service, or thoughtful gifts touch his heart. He is overcome by love for you in those moments because you make him feel cherished and cared for, and Kinich feels an impulse to show you that he loves and appreciates you too. He’s not good at sappy love confessions, so this impulse manifests physically. What starts as a gentle kiss of gratitude grows into something passionate as Kinich’s need to express his feelings for you intensifies. This can sometimes result in him making love to you.

Kinich’s self-control and patience are high, but there are a few other things you could do to wear away at them. For example, being assertive in initiative sex. Straddle his lap and teasingly trace your hands over his body, give him kisses along his jaw and neck, whisper in his ear how much you crave him, and lust will ignite in his loins.

Alternatively, you could wear flattering clothes that hug your figure, such as swimsuits or sportswear (he likes to admire how nice you look in them), or press up against him and let him feel the softness of your body. It’s unlikely Kinich will snap, but his interest in sexual intimacy will heighten considerably, and he’ll look for an appropriate opportunity to satiate your carnal desires.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Kinich dislikes being restrained or losing control of his body, so things like bondage and blindfolds make him uneasy. Plus, half the fun of sex is being able to touch you, so being tied up deprives him of the joy of exploring your body and making you feel good.

Kinich also takes no enjoyment from impact play. He doesn’t hate it but simply doesn’t derive any pleasure from the pain, especially because his associations with being hit aren’t good ones. Similarly, he won’t hit or degrade you either, not wanting to be like his father even if it’s light-hearted play with the intent to feel good.

Additionally, Kinich isn’t into roleplay. He doesn’t see the appeal and finds it awkward to act as someone he’s not, especially in a sexual situation. He’d much rather you and he act like yourselves and show appreciation and love for who you are without the extra obstacles.

He’s also not fond of sharing you or having third parties join your sessions, preferring to keep things private. Only you get to see this vulnerable side of him, and he hopes you share the sentiment of wanting him to be the only one to see you like this, as well.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Kinich’s inexperience might make him a little awkward at oral sex at first, but he is devoted to your pleasure and does his best to learn all the ways you like to be eaten out. Whenever he gives you oral, he keeps his eyes fixed on your face and takes mental note of which pressures and touches of his tongue and fingers get the best reactions out of you. He wants to use this knowledge to improve his oral skills so he can better please you.

Kinich has no qualms about going down on you because he strives to make you feel good, and as such, will bury his face between your legs and lap away at your folds until you’re writhing under his touch. He doesn’t mind if you tug his hair or buck your hips against his face, though if you squirm too much or impede his progress by clamping your thighs around his head, then he hooks his arms around your thighs and pins them down to keep you still. Kinch only lets go once he’s brought you to orgasm.

Despite his transactional outlook on life, Kinich doesn’t expect you to give him oral in return for eating you out. If you bring him to orgasm through any other means, then he considers it even. That said, he views it as his duty to go down on you if you give him a blowjob. He loves giving you oral. There’s something so erotic about hearing your moans of pleasure and watching you writhe under his tongue, so he’s always eager to repay the favor.

When you give him a blowjob, Kinich struggles to keep his voice down. His eyes flutter closed and he places a hand on your head, not pushing or pulling but just resting it there to ground himself. The sight of his cock disappearing in your mouth is intense for him, and as he approaches orgasm, Kinich shallowly thrusts into your mouth, careful to not choke you but unable to stop himself from wanting more. Whether you swallow his cum or let him paint your skin in it doesn’t matter—either outcome is hot to him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Kinich’s pace depends on what you want. He usually goes for a moderate pace, keeping his thrusts consistent and angled just right to hit those sweet spots inside you. However, he can go slow and gentle if you’re making love, or faster and rougher if you’re in the mood for a good fuck. Even if he goes rougher, Kinich is still mindful of your comfort and keeps strict control of his thrusts so as to not hurt you. His main goal is for you to enjoy sex with him. Getting himself off is secondary.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Kinich doesn’t mind quickies. Sometimes, when he or you are in the mood but don’t have enough time to indulge in long foreplay, he goes for quickies. Ajaw is usually the main reason for you guys having quickies, mostly because you want to squeeze in some intimate time before the arrogant saurian inevitably interrupts you.

Kinich finds it a hassle to work around Ajaw’s presence, so he prefers to send the dragonlord out on an errand or lock him away so you won’t be disturbed. To Kinich’s dismay, Ajaw quickly figures out that whenever he gets promptly locked or sent out on a long errand whenever you’re around, this usually means his servant is about to get busy with you. However, for once, Ajaw doesn’t object. He already had the misfortune of accidentally walking in on you getting frisky with Kinich when the hunter forgot to lock him away, and the awful memory is seared into the poor saurian’s brain. One time was too many, and he’d rather never see that again. Nevertheless, when he returns to Kinich’s side, Ajaw makes sure to thoroughly poke fun at the hunter and make his disgust for your sexual activities known.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Kinich is willing to take risks, especially for you. Generally, he’s open to trying almost anything once but only if you’re also on board with experimenting. Due to his cautious nature, Kinich will want to research whatever new kinks you want to try so he knows how to indulge in them safely, especially if one of you hasn’t tried these kinks before. He's open to taking risks but he's not reckless.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Kinich’s commissions and extreme sports hobby require him to have good endurance, so he has very good stamina. He almost always outlasts you in bed. He can easily go for three rounds, maybe a couple more if he’s willing to push himself and takes appropriate breaks, though three is already more than enough to satisfy his sexual cravings.

How many rounds you go for usually depends on you. If you can’t keep up with his stamina, then Kinich is perfectly content to go for 1-2 rounds (as mentioned, it’s the perfect amount for him). However, if your sexual appetite is big, Kinich can go for more rounds, though he would switch it up with oral or fingering for variety and to give himself a break.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Kinich doesn’t own any sex toys. He doesn’t need them to get off and thus sees no point in getting any. If you have toys you like using or want to try with him, then Kinich will learn how to operate them to please you. He typically likes sex without toys but admits they’re good for spicing up your sex life now and then.

He won’t object if you want to use toys on him even though they’re not as gratifying for him as your direct touch, but only if you know what you’re doing.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Usually, Kinich doesn’t tease you during sex. He takes a straightforward approach to life and likes to do things efficiently, and pleasing you is no different. However, Kinich can be playful when the mood strikes, and this results in him teasing you by lightly stimulating your sensitive spots, such as lightly flicking your nipples, rubbing your clit, or sucking on a delicate patch of skin on your neck just to watch you react to his touch with a small, amused smirk on his lips. He’s got a smart mouth, so he might also verbally tease you by pointing out how eager you seem for his touch, but he keeps the teasing lighthearted and affectionate.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Kinich naturally tries to keep his voice down when engaging in sexual activities. His most common sounds are ragged breaths, moans, and sighs of pleasure. His moans are soft, low, and infrequent, mostly because he muffles them by sucking hickeys into your neck or kissing you. He’s loudest when nearing orgasm, oftentimes uttering your name right as he hits his peak.

He doesn’t talk much during sex, but he does give you heartfelt compliments and tells you he loves you as a way of expressing his gratitude for all the love and trust you give him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

TW: Menstruation, mentions of blood, period sex

When Kinich found out about your painful menstrual cramps, he took to researching various methods he could use to help you deal with them because he doesn’t like seeing you in pain. Aside from common methods like heating pads, pain medicine, and warm baths, Kinich also read that orgasms can help alleviate cramping.

He proposes the idea of period sex, expressing his willingness to give you orgasms if it means bringing you relief. He understands if you aren’t comfortable with the idea and won’t pressure you into it, but his interest in doing this for you is genuine.

Kinich sees menstruation as a normal part of life and reassures you that there is no reason to feel self-conscious or ashamed of your body’s natural response. Blood doesn’t make him squeamish, so he has no reservations about getting any of yours on himself. If it helps you feel better, then he’s willing to get messy.

If you agree to his proposition, Kinich will take great measures to ensure your comfort. He understands that your abdomen must be tender, so he keeps all his touches slow and gentle to avoid worsening your cramps. He lets you decide if you’re more comfortable with him using his penis or fingers—either one is fine with him. If you choose fingers, then he rubs your clit in slow circles and gently thrusts his fingers into you, starting with one and then moving on to two until he makes you cum.

If you prefer his cock, then Kinich will be careful and gentle with his thrusts, keeping them slow and shallow until you’re comfortable with taking more. He showers you with a lot of kisses and affectionate caresses to keep you relaxed and maximize your enjoyment of the experience. During such moments, Kinich focuses more on your comfort and enjoyment than his own pleasure because the experience is mainly about you.

He feels a sense of accomplishment when his efforts pay off in your orgasm and you confirm that it did indeed help alleviate your pain. Kinich volunteers to have menstrual sex with you each month if it’s something that interests you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

11cm (4.3 inch) in length and 10cm (3.9 inch) in girth with a dark red tip and a prominent vein underneath.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Kinich’s sexual appetite isn’t big, so having sex once or twice a week is enough for him. Because his work sometimes forces him to leave his tribe for days at a time, opportunities to make love are not as frequent as you might hope, but Kinich still tries to make time for it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Kinich doesn’t fall asleep immediately after intercourse unless he’s tired. He likes to stay up and hold you, basking in the afterglow and letting you know that he really enjoyed this moment. He’s not one for idle chatter, but he does use this opportunity to talk about your plans for tomorrow, maybe plan a small date, or invite you to a special place he discovered while running an errand as a courier.

You almost always fall asleep before him (he gives you quite a workout) and he observes the way your expression relaxes as you drift off with a small smile on his face. Kinich ensures you’re properly tucked in before draping an arm around you and joining you in sleep, or quietly getting out of bed to take care of unfinished work. He always makes sure you’re comfortable before leaving, though.

[imagionationstation]

Yours - Feral Raphie AU

“Leonardo, I want to see him.”

“I know, I know, but we’re trying to keep him from being overwhelmed and I don’t-”

“If it is possible that I can be of assistance in returning his memories, then shouldn’t I have a chance to try?”

“Mona…” Leonardo trails off and Mona paces on the rooftop of the warehouse where she’d taken refuge when their conversation got heated. She wants to see her boyfriend. It had been several weeks since his rescue, and she had every right to visit her Raphael.

Yet Leonardo was stubborn, and it didn’t sit right to invade the turtle brothers’ home without their sensei’s permission. It was one of the very few times in her life that she found a strong dislike for an aspect of her warrior’s conditioning.

“I should warn you that I am on the verge of coming over there myself if I do not get some form of consent soon.” No, she was not, and she would never. A moment of quiet, muffled voices, and then-

“How far are you?”

Her heart lurches. “Mutanimal’s.”

“Alright.” He sounds pensive, and her grip on the t-phone Donatello had graciously given her tightens. “You can come over, just don’t hurry and… Mona, he’s not going to be your Raph.”

She swallows, but her voice is firm. “I am on my way.”

“See you in a bit.”

She hangs up, and sprints to Slash to warn him of where she’s going, promising to let him know when she leaves the turtle’s home. With his authority backing her up, she stops by her resting area, and then she’s off.

“Mona!” Raphael’s cheery little brother greets her as she crosses from the tracks to the turnstiles, apparently on guard for her arrival. Her eyes scan for her boyfriend even as she announces, “Greetings. Leonardo said I can come over. Where is he?”

“Leo?” Mikey studies the box in her arms. “Getting stuff ready. What’s that? Gift for Raph?”

She meets his eyes, offering a sheepish smile. “…Something like that.”

She opens the lid covered in holes, and Mikey’s eyes widen. “CHOMPY!”

He scoops up the little alien as Chompy squeals his delight, nuzzling the tiny face against his beak. “Aw, I missed you so much, lil’ guy! Have you been having fun with mama Mona?”

She sets the box on the turnstile next to them, uncertain how to respond to such a nickname, but allowing it to slide because Raph never denied his “dada Raph” title. She chalks it up to yet another strange human thing.

“You never mentioned Chompy.”

She glances over at Leonardo as he approaches, meeting his gaze evenly. “You said that he responds negatively to humans and mutants because of their intimating factor, but did not immediately try to inflict harm upon your Icecream pet. It seems unlikely that he would attack beings that he does not find intimidating, and this youngling is the least intimidating alien in many galaxies.”

She pauses in consideration and corrects, “For now.”

He stares at her, and then shakes his head with a light chuckle. “Good to see you too, Mona.”

She smiles and shakes the hand not offered for battle. “Likewise, Leonardo. Can we see him?”

He nods, and she notices how tired he looks, normally confident stance more subdued. She will never admit how worried it makes her. “Come on. He’s in the dojo.”

Mikey hops off the turnstile, cooing to the alien turtle happily viewing his home from his place cupped in two hands. Mona crosses into the lair, following the turtles to the dojo, heart racing with anticipation. Leo stops at the dojo entrance, and with a tone full of forced cheer, calls out, “Donnie! We have a friend here to see us.”

There is an abnormal amount of emphasis on friend, and an uneasy feeling creeps on her. Leonardo enters the dojo, and Mikey steps back, politely waiting for her to step past before following. Or perhaps he’s simply making sure that the stronger warriors go first in case something goes wrong. She glances at Chompy, something akin to regret settling, and then steps into the dojo.

The room is just as majestic as the last time she stood in it’s walls, the large tree presiding over the room like a guardian, but this time, there is a pile of blankets and pillows underneath the family alter. A low growl draws her attention to the white eyes glaring from underneath one of the larger blankets.

Leonardo stiffens, but Donatello appears unfazed. He leans his weight against him, effectively using him to balance as his legs stretch out, a laptop resting on his lap. He reaches to the left to gently bonk his head with his fist. A sharp hiss, and Donnie rolls his eyes, “Leo said our friend, Raph. As in, not a threat.”

A moment of pause, and then a low growl. Donnie huffs, resuming his typing. “This is why you don’t have any friends.”

Leonardo looks at his younger brother wryly. “Donnie.”

“Hmm?”

“We have a guest.”

“Mhmm.”

“Someone none of us have seen in weeks.”

“Mhmm.”

Leo gives up. “So say hi.”

“Oh.” Donatello looks up and meets her gaze, offering a polite smile. “Hi, Mona.”

He goes back to typing and Leonardo throws up his hands as if he’s a hopeless case. Mona takes a few steps closer, and Raph’s growls resume. She pauses in consideration. “Raphael?”

White eyes glare back at her. The growl increases in volume.

Mona tilts her head curiously, trying to find any true aggression or fear, but only spotting impudence. He is putting on a show in the hopes of scaring her off.

Cute.

She can sense Leonardo shift nervously. “I wouldn’t get to close.”

“Duly noted.” Mona knows exactly how to deal with unruly, territorial earth animals. Raphael himself had felt it necessary to teach her. “Donatello, could you move aside?”

Donatello looks up, blinks twice, and then looks at Leonardo.

Leo frowns, “I don’t think-“

“Donatello, move aside.”

Donatello gets up, and Raphael releases a sharp hiss that sends him quickly stepping backwards, lest he be punished for his betrayal. Once she feels there is a sufficient amount of distance, she purposefully strides over to her boyfriend, pulling the blanket off.

Apparently startled by her audacity, he scrambles back on all fours, raising his haunches and baring his teeth. He looks uncertain, like he can’t decide if she’s a danger. He’s not wearing his gear, and he appears younger without it, fiery emerald gaze no longer framed by the reflective red.

She kneels down, and waits for it to register that she is no longer at a threatening height. He takes a wary step closer, clearly having little idea of what to make of her, sniffing in her general direction. She reaches out, and he snaps at her fingers.

Her eyes narrow. Leo starts to speak, but she cuts him off with a curt, “Raphael, if you attempt to bite me again, I will not hesitate to bite back.”

He blinks. She glares. Raph sits down.

“WHAT?!”

Mona ignores the chorused cry and gently cups both sides of his face, brushing a thumb over one of the scars. He stares back at her, eyes squinted the way they always did when he was thinking hard, and she can’t help the small smile, “I have missed you, Raphael.”

A soft, curious chirp, and she hums, “There’s someone else here who has missed you too.”

He looks passed her, scanning the area on alert as Mikey walks up. Before any of them can react, Chompy lets loose a high-pitch squeal and launches himself from Mikey’s palms, hitting the floor and skidding just in front of Raph. He continues to chirp his joy as Raph lowers himself to the ground so they’re face to face, studying the alien with dialated eyes.

He pokes the spikey shell. Chompy churrs and nuzzles against his beak, and Raph’s expression brightens, sitting up and scooping the small form into his palms. He presents Chompy to Mona as if to share his discovery, and she chuckles, “That is Chompy Picasso. He is yours.”

As if to confirm, Chompy nips his hand. Raph yelps and tears his hands away, and Mona catches the happily squeaking turt before he hits the ground. Raph leans his hands on the floor, watching him rest his plastron on her fingers, little feet swinging in the air as he pants estatically. Raph’s eyes are round with the innocence and awe that Mona had fallen in love with, and she can’t help it if she closes the distance between them to press a kiss on his forehead.

He looks at her as she pulls away, and she is relieved that he doesn’t seem upset. Her eyes soften, a warmth flowing through her chest at the timid way he’s looking at her, like he thinks he should understand, but can’t. She shifts Chompy into one hand, and takes his hand in her own. “It is alright. No matter what form you come in, you are my Raphael, and I would relieve those nights of worry a hundred times over, as long as it means you always come back to me.”

She thinks something sparks in his gaze, but she can’t tell what. His voice is tentative, “Yours?”

“Always.” She swears with every inch of her being, squeezing his hand. He squeezes back, and leans forward to lovingly bump her face with his own. She would have gladly stayed in that movement forever, but she hadn’t taken one thing into account.

“AWWEEEE- ay!”

Ah yes. Their audience.

Raph pulls away and looks past her to glare at his siblings, and she can’t help the grin. He was definitely still her Raphael. Mona sets Chompy on the ground and he begins prancing between them, churring like one of the older earth vehicles.

Leonardo is flushing as he moves his hand from Mikey’s head to rub the back of his own. “Sorry.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, I trust it’s safe enough for me to request some privacy now.” Mona hints as Chompy begins trying to climb Raphael.

Leo and Mikey look like they’re going to refuse- possibly for entirely different reasons- and Donnie tucks the laptop under his arm, pushing both brothers out by their carapaces. “Don’t leave him alone and Mikey will bring food by later!”

“I will?” Mikey questions as they disappear from sight.

She looks back at Raphael, and watches him set Chompy on his shoulder, an action done more out of instinct than anything else. Her eyes dart between his face and Chompy’s for a moment, before she quietly questions, “Raphael, do you know who I am?”

He gets halfway through a nod before he looks uncertain, staring past her for a second. His mouth opens and closes, nails unconscious digging into the carpet beneath them, forehead creasing as an anxious expression crosses his features.

“Raphael.” She interrupts firmly, drawing his attention back to her. He looks guilty, shrinking his head into his shell with a sad chirp, before shrugging weakly.

“My earth name is Mona Lisa. You named me.” She informs him carefully, scanning for any signs of recognition. He appears mildly interested, and she takes his hand, thinking back to when they first met. She squeezes, and he scoots closer.

“Let me tell you a story.”

[here-there-were-dragons]

my mother has a weird fucking thing about names-even made up fantasy ones-being used for what sounds like "the wrong gender" and frequently whines about names being used for the "improper" gender. she once went on a 20 minute rant completely unprompted out of dead silence because she saw a flight rising dragon named "trojan" that happened to be a female guardian, during which she said (entirely unironically) among other things that the person who named that dragon should be legally barred from having children. she refuses to name her own characters and things in games entirely reasonable object words or nouns or mythology references very often because "it's not masculine feminine sounding enough i CAN'T name him/her that!"

Every single time i think of a fantasy name ending in "a" or "ia", i now deliberately give it to a male dragon just to piss her off.

[dhoranbolt]

I need reader who's shy/easily embarrassed, and Sukuna who just pops up whenever to say the most unhinged out of pocket shit on the side of Yuji's face just to see her go bright red.

read fic here

Sukuna who takes the opportunity to lick her face when Yuji tries to reach out and move some hair from her face. The gasp she let's out is choked, and Sukuna grins as Yuji is quick to pull away with a sound of disgust.

"That's not all I can do with my tongue. I'll show you one of these days, when the brat let's me out to play." It's a threat and a promise. Sukuna can't wait to take the drivers seat and devour her.

Sukuna who taunts the both of them for his own amusement, keeping her walking on eggshells whenever she's around Yuji

Who pops an eye open to watch as she bends over to pick something up, taking a moment to admire her ass before he opens his mouth. And when he finally does, "I cant see the swell of your cunt, bend some more for me." Yuji's quick to slap a hand over his cheek and ignore the sting, only for Sukuna to make his way to the back of his hand and cackle

Sukuna who isn't paying attention to what the brats are doing until he hears her moaning. Cracking an eye opened to see she's putting food in her mouth, eyes closed and a faint smile pulling at her lips.

"Do you always moan like that when you put things in your mouth? Or are you just showing off for me." She nearly chokes on the food, eyes going wide and cheeks burning red as she looks at him.

Sukuna who refuses to acknowledge the fact he enjoys her reactions for anything more than his own entertainment.

But who does start to notice the subtle change in Yuji's behavior towards her

Who makes it his new goal in life -to keep himself entertained of course, no other reason- to make the both of them so uncomfortable in each other's presence.

Because if he can't physically toy with his new (not favorite) human, he'll gladly do it from the passengers seat of his vessel and make everyone involved miserable.

@saiki-enthusiast here's the tag!! I hope you enjoy 😊 I have a fic that's like a follow up to this that I'm still working on, it's a little dark/ noncon though, if anyone was interested!

[be4chywritez]

sweet like honey | max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!reader

"you're to sweet for me."

Max doesn't like how nice you are towards him.

beachy’s masterlist🐚

prompt list

Max isn't sure why he doesn’t like you. You’ve never wronged him, never talked bad about him, or been rude in any way. But for some odd reason, Max hates you.

Maybe it’s the Verstappen genes kicking in, that innate tendency to be an asshole. Or maybe it’s bred into him to keep sweet things like you at a distance. So, you can imagine his shock and horror when he sees you perched on the couch, flipping through a book in his friend’s Italian villa.

Your eyes meet his, and a smile graces your lips. You place the book in your lap, and he watches as your eyes brighten at the sight of him, the same way they might light up at the sight of a pretty flower.

Your small yellow sundress barely covers your upper thighs, and Max can’t help but stare before quickly looking down at his phone, not wanting to be too obvious about his boyish gawking.

“Max,” you say softly, your voice warm and rich like honey, drawing his attention whether he wants it or not.

He hears you, of course, but pretends to focus on his phone. His thumb moves slowly over the screen, though nothing he sees holds his interest. It’s the way you say his name that sticks in his mind, making it impossible to ignore.

“It’s nice to see you,” you continue, your tone sincere as if you mean it more than you should. You settle back into the cushions, your dress slipping a little higher on your thighs, and he catches himself glancing before looking away again.

Max lets out a quiet huff, his eyes still fixed on his phone, but his attention is all on you now. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, almost guarded.

You shift, crossing your legs under you, the air feeling warmer, closer. “A surprise, I guess,” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips, the kind that lingers, soft and effortless.

Max clenches his jaw, forcing himself to look back at his phone. Still, he’s hyper-aware of your presence, of the subtle scent of your perfume lingering in the room. He swallows hard, trying to steady himself, even as his chest tightens.

“Yeah,” he mutters, almost under his breath, like he’s afraid to say anything else, and you let the moment settle, content with the quiet between you.

Just then, his best friend Jamie stumbles in, holding a glass of chardonnay. “Maxie,” he coos, squishing Max’s cheeks together, making his lips pucker. Close behind comes your best friend, Mila—Jamie’s girlfriend.

A few others join the group, a mix of Jamie and Mila’s friends, and Max’s brow furrows as he realizes that they’re all couples. He internally groans, watching your eyes flit around like a lost puppy.

“Alright, everyone,” Mila announces with a clap of her hands, “time to head up. We’ve got a long day ahead tomorrow.”

One by one, the group starts dispersing, grabbing their things and heading upstairs. Max lingers, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, but he’s acutely aware of you standing up from the couch, smoothing down the hem of your dress.

You move with an easy grace, slipping past him with a soft, “Goodnight, Max.” There’s no sarcasm, no bite—just genuine kindness that he doesn’t understand. You flash him a small smile before heading toward the stairs.

Max’s jaw tightens as he watches you go. You’re far too calm, far too kind for his liking. It makes him uncomfortable, like you’re holding a mirror up to the way he behaves, forcing him to see the stark contrast between you.

He takes a deep breath, tucking his phone into his pocket, and follows behind the group. The villa is beautiful, the soft glow of the lights casting long shadows across the walls as everyone makes their way to their respective rooms. His room is at the far end of the hall, and as he reaches it, he notices you standing just outside the door next to his.

“Looks like we’re neighbors,” you say lightly, your voice warm and soft. You hold your toothbrush and a towel, your yellow sundress replaced by pale pink silky pajamas, and there’s something almost disarming about how comfortable you seem.

Max nods, his expression neutral. “Yeah.”

You don’t push the conversation, only smile again as you step into your room. “Sleep well, Max,” you say over your shoulder, as if you mean it.

He huffs quietly, more out of habit than frustration, and slips into his own room. The door closes with a soft click, and he leans back against it, rubbing a hand over his face.

For a moment, he stands there, in the silence of the room, staring at nothing in particular. He doesn’t know why your kindness unsettles him so much. It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong, but that’s exactly the problem. You’re too nice. Too understanding. And for some reason, it gets under his skin.

Max changes into a T-shirt and shorts, moving about the room on autopilot. He keeps hearing your voice, soft and sweet, lingering in his thoughts.

Finally, he pulls back the covers and slides into bed, trying to shut everything out. But it’s quiet now—too quiet. And even though you’re just on the other side of the wall, he can’t stop thinking about you.

In the middle of the night, he’s still awake, tossing and turning, when there’s a soft knock on his door. Max sits up, frowning slightly, wondering who it could be at this hour.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pads across the room, opening the door just a crack. It’s you, standing there, a little sheepish, your arms crossed lightly over your chest.

“Sorry,” you whisper, barely audible, “I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just… my room's really hot. I think the AC is broken.”

Max blinks, unsure of what to say at first. Part of him wants to tell you to deal with it yourself, but another part of him can’t ignore it.

His eyes linger on you more than he’d admit—your hair sticking to your neck from sweat, your cheeks flushed, and you nibble your lip nervously. Your tank top has ridden up, a sliver of your hip exposed, and Max does everything in his power to push those thoughts away.

“Uh… you could just crack open a window,” he suggests, his voice a bit rough from sleep. He knows the words sound hollow even to him. He doesn’t want you in his space, yet part of him doesn’t want you sweating alone either.

You fidget slightly, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I tried, but it didn’t help. I just thought… maybe I could crash in here?” The words hang in the air, hopeful yet tentative.

Max’s heart races at the idea. The prospect of sharing the bed makes his palms sweat. It’s one thing to be in the same room, but sharing a bed? He hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek as he weighs his options.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but there’s a hint of something deeper in his tone. The image of you curled up beside him—too close for comfort—sends a shiver down his spine.

“Yeah, no, you’re right,” you offer a nervous smile, clearly not wanting to invade his space, so you back away, ducking into your room. He watches you until the door is shut behind you.

Max stands in the doorway, his heart racing as he processes the moment. He’s not sure why he feels such a strong urge to call you back, to insist that it’s okay, but the words remain stuck in his throat. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling a mix of irritation and something else—something he’s not ready to name.

As he paces back to his bed, he tries to shake off the lingering image of you standing there, your flushed cheeks and nervous smile. He lies down again, staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you’re just a wall away.

A few moments pass before he hears a soft, muffled noise from your room—a sniffle, maybe? It makes his chest tighten at the thought of you crying because you're uncomfortable.

“Damn it,” he mutters to himself, tossing an arm over his eyes. He’s not going to sleep if he keeps thinking about you like this.

After what feels like an eternity of tossing and turning, he finally sits up, his decision made. He stands up, his heart pounding in his chest, and makes his way to your door. He raises his hand to knock but hesitates, uncertainty flooding in.

“Why the hell am I doing this?” he mutters, his self-doubt creeping back in. But the thought of you feeling uncomfortable alone is enough to push him through. He knocks softly, the sound barely more than a tap.

“Hey,” you call from inside, and he can hear the surprise in your voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replies, his voice worse than he intended. “I… just thought maybe you could come back. It’s probably not that hot here.”

There’s a brief silence, and he can imagine the look on your face—surprised and perhaps a little hopeful. “Really?” you ask, and he can’t help the slight smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

The door swings open, revealing you still in your silk-clad pajamas. He rips his gaze away, feeling a tightness in his throat. He doesn't utter a word, just turns around, walking to his room. He can hear your feet padding behind him, and you close the door behind the both of you.

Max keeps his back to you as you quietly follow him into the room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The air feels heavier now, thick with unspoken tension as you stand there in the dim light, waiting for him to say something. But Max doesn’t. Instead, he heads straight for the bed, pulling back the covers on one side, his movements stiff and a little too deliberate.

“You can take the right side,” he mutters, not looking at you, as he slides under the covers on the left. His heart is pounding, though he tries to act like everything is fine.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure whether to thank him or just keep quiet. Deciding not to push it, you simply nod, even though he isn’t looking at you. You cross the room and slip into the bed beside him, careful not to make any sudden movements.

The mattress dips slightly under your weight, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he can feel the same tension thrumming between you that you do. The bed feels impossibly small now, the space between you a thin sliver of air that crackles with awkwardness.

You lie still, facing away from him, but you can feel his presence—so close and yet so distant. The sound of his steady breathing fills the room, and you wonder if he’s doing the same as you, staring at the ceiling, trying to will himself to sleep.

Minutes stretch on, and the silence between you is deafening. Every creak of the bed, every shift in the sheets seems louder in the stillness of the night. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice so soft it barely breaks the silence. You don’t expect a reply, and for a few moments, there’s nothing but the sound of your own breathing.

Then, finally, Max shifts slightly beside you. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbles, his voice low and rough, but there’s something different in it now. Something that isn’t as cold as before.

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Maybe he isn’t as indifferent as he wants you to think. You curl up a little more, trying to make yourself comfortable, even as the tension lingers in the air between you.

As the night drags on, you begin to drift in and out of sleep. The heat from the earlier part of the night is gone now, replaced by a cooler breeze that drifts in through the open window. The sheets are soft, and for the first time since you entered Max’s room, you start to relax.

Just as you’re on the edge of sleep, you feel something shift again. Max turns slightly, the mattress dipping as he moves closer—just barely, but enough for you to notice. His arm brushes against yours, and the warmth of his skin sends a small jolt through you.

You stay perfectly still, wondering if he did it on purpose or if he’s just restless. Either way, you don’t move, afraid to disturb the delicate balance between you.

Your mind races—what if you roll over onto him in your sleep? What if you start snoring?—and the nerves bubble up, spilling out before you can stop yourself.

“So… I haven’t slept in a guy’s bed in ages,” you blurt out, staring at the ceiling. Max barely reacts, his only acknowledgment a low, noncommittal “Mhm,” but it doesn’t stop you from talking.

“Yeah, it’s been, like… a long time. I’m more of a 'sleep with a thousand pillows' kind of person, you know? Gotta have the right setup.” You laugh a little, mostly to yourself, feeling the need to fill the quiet. Max doesn’t respond, but you keep going, too nervous to stop. “Oh, and I’m really bad with directions, like, I get lost in grocery stores. Once, I ended up in the freezer aisle for thirty minutes just trying to find the cereal.”

“Mhm.”

His replies are half-hearted at best, but you don’t mind. If anything, the sound of his quiet indifference weirdly helps soothe your nerves.

“Oh! And I can’t swim,” you say with a laugh, thinking it’s just another random fact to throw out there. But this time, Max’s head snaps toward you.

“You came to the amalfi coast, and you can’t swim?” he asks, his voice sharper than before, with a hint of amusement. His eyes narrow slightly, and you can’t help but grin.

“Yeah,” you reply, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Figured I’d just, you know… stay on the shore.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s stupid.”

“Maybe,” you say, laughing softly, your nerves easing a bit. “But I’m good at other things. Like… did you know I can recite the entire script of Finding Nemo? Well, mostly.”

Max rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Great skill.”

You keep talking, the words flowing easier now. Your voice fills the room, soft and rhythmic, and even though Max doesn’t say much, you can feel the tension in the air start to shift. His body relaxes slightly, the space between you feeling a little less awkward.

“And another thing, I’m a terrible cook. Burnt spaghetti once. Didn’t even think that was possible. It’s water and noodles, right?” You laugh again, and this time Max lets out a quiet huff—almost like a chuckle, though he’d never admit it.

Your voice is like a steady hum, lulling the room into a gentle calm. You talk about everything and nothing, the words spilling out in a quiet stream. Max listens, his responses becoming softer, almost inaudible, but it doesn’t matter. His breathing slows, his eyes fluttering shut as your voice washes over him.

You don’t notice when he finally drifts off, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. But somehow, you feel it—the way the energy in the room has shifted, his earlier sharpness melted away into something softer, more relaxed.

The next morning, sunlight spills through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You stir first, the warmth of the bed enveloping you, your body reluctant to wake. For a moment, you forget where you are, and then it hits you—Max’s bed, Max’s room. You blink your eyes open slowly, turning your head slightly to see him still there, asleep.

He’s lying on his back now, the sheets tangled around his waist, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath. His face is serene, the harsh lines you’ve come to associate with him softened by sleep. His hair is slightly tousled, giving him an almost boyish look, something so different from the hard-edged man who usually glares at you.

You feel a strange flutter in your chest as you look at him, this version of Max—unguarded, vulnerable. It’s a side of him you never thought you’d see, and it’s almost too intimate, too close. You shift a little, trying not to make any noise, but the bed creaks softly under your weight.

Max stirs, his brows furrowing slightly as he slowly wakes up. His eyes open halfway, still hazy with sleep, and for a brief moment, he looks at you without the usual edge in his gaze. It’s like he’s forgotten for a second who you are, where he is.

Then, reality seems to settle back in, and his eyes narrow ever so slightly, though there’s no real malice there. Just a kind of gruff annoyance.

“Mornin’,” he mutters, his voice rough and low, thick with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply softly, offering a tentative smile.

He shifts, pushing himself up on his elbows, the sheet falling further down his waist, revealing more of his toned torso. You can’t help but glance, quickly averting your eyes when you realize you’re staring.

Max runs a hand through his messy hair, yawning as he glances at you. “You talk a lot in your sleep too, or is that just when you’re awake?” he asks, a hint of that familiar sarcasm creeping back into his tone, though there’s no real bite behind it.

You chuckle lightly, relaxing a little. “Only when I’m awake, I promise.”

He grunts, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence between you less awkward than you would’ve expected. It’s almost… comfortable.

Max stretches, his muscles flexing slightly as he does, and you try not to let your eyes linger too long. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, and you’re grateful when he doesn’t seem to notice.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “how’d you sleep?”

He glances back at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he shrugs. “Fine, I guess.” There’s a pause, and then he adds, almost begrudgingly, “Didn’t mind all the talking.”

Your heart skips a beat at that, the small admission catching you off guard. You smile, warmth spreading through you. “Glad to know I didn’t annoy you too much.”

Max doesn’t respond, just grabs his phone from the nightstand and checks the time. But you catch the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips before he turns away.

He stands, pulling on a shirt and running a hand through his hair again before heading toward the door. “We’re leaving for breakfast soon,” he mutters. “Don’t take too long.”

He steps out before poking his head back in his face serious, “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he says gesturing a finger around towards you and him, right asshole Max is alive and well.

“Right.” you deflate, but none the less walk to your room. You notice the AC now works. 

The warmth of the Italian sun is already starting to filter in through your window as you slip into your pale yellow babydoll dress. The soft fabric feels light against your skin, perfect for the warm weather and the laid-back vibes of the villa.

When you finally make your way downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee and pastries fills the air, and you can hear the familiar hum of laughter and chatter. The villa’s terrace is bathed in sunlight, with everyone seated around the large outdoor table, enjoying breakfast. 

Max is already seated, of course, his usual stoic expression in place. He’s leaning back in his chair, sunglasses on, making it impossible to tell if he’s even noticed you. 

An array of colorful fruits and pastries litters the table, couples chatting and laughing as you offer everyone a warm smile while taking a seat next to Mila, who returns the gesture. “How was the room, darling?” she asks, taking a sip of her tea. You can feel a pair of laser beams on your face, as if Max is staring into your soul.

“Oh, it was truly nice,” you reply, feeling the tips of your ears heat up with nerves. Mila seems to buy it and turns to address the entire group.

“So, guys, today we’re going to take the yacht around,” she announces, eliciting a few excited hoots from your friends. Your stomach tightens at the thought of being stuck on a yacht, but you brush the anxiety aside.

As the chatter around the breakfast table grows, the knot in your stomach tightens at the mention of the yacht. You toy with the edge of your napkin, trying to suppress the wave of nerves that accompanies the idea of being out on the water, especially since you can’t swim.

Max, still leaning back in his chair, tilts his head slightly in your direction, as if he senses the unease radiating off you. His sunglasses shield his eyes, but you swear you can feel his gaze tracing over you. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and you can almost hear his voice echoing in your mind: “You came to the Amalfi Coast, and you can’t swim?”

You swallow hard, forcing a smile as you join in on the group's excitement, even though the thought of being surrounded by water sends a shiver down your spine. Mila stands, gathering everyone’s attention, and starts guiding the group toward the dock.

The villa’s outdoor space spills into a sprawling garden, leading to a private path that takes you to where the yacht is docked. The sunlight glints off the water, almost blinding in its brightness, as you walk with the others toward the sleek, luxurious yacht. Everyone seems thrilled—laughing and talking about the views they’ll see—while you stay quieter than usual, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves.

You tug at the sleeves of your oversized polo, the fabric bunching slightly in your grip as you focus on steadying your breath. The path to the dock feels longer than it actually is, the sounds of the group’s lively chatter fading into the background. You glance at the shimmering blue water ahead and bite the inside of your cheek.

Max lingers just a few steps behind, and you can feel the weight of his presence even without looking. His footsteps are slow and deliberate, as if he’s watching you closely, waiting for any sign of weakness. You try not to dwell on it, though the image of him smirking at your fear lingers in the back of your mind.

As the group finally boards the yacht, you become hyper-aware of the water surrounding you. The boat rocks gently as everyone gets settled, and you grip the railing tightly, trying to hide your discomfort. Max watches you for a moment before walking past you, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours.

“Relax,” he mutters under his breath, not even looking at you, but there’s something almost reassuring in his tone. You exhale slowly, forcing yourself to take a seat with the others, letting the warmth of the sun and the sound of conversation distract you from the vast ocean around you.

As the yacht pulls away from the dock, you try to focus on the scenery. The Amalfi Coast is breathtaking—cliffs draped in greenery, colorful villas dotting the shoreline, and the ocean sparkling beneath the golden sunlight. Everyone around you laughs and soaks up the beauty of the day, but your hands remain clenched in your lap, your mind preoccupied with the endless expanse of water.

Despite your nervousness, you find yourself stealing glances at Max. He’s sitting at the back of the yacht, one arm draped casually over the side, sunglasses shielding his eyes as he stares out at the water. He looks so at ease, completely unaffected by the swaying of the boat or the openness of the sea.

The breeze picks up, ruffling your hair, and as you turn your attention back to the group, you feel the yacht slow down. Mila claps her hands, announcing that they’ve anchored near a beautiful cove, perfect for swimming.

Your stomach drops.

Everyone begins shedding layers, excitement buzzing through the group as they prepare to jump into the water. You stay seated, gripping the edge of your chair as they leap overboard, laughter echoing around you.

Max stands, pulling off his shirt and revealing the defined muscles of his back and shoulders. Your eyes linger for a moment longer than you intend. He catches your gaze just before he moves toward the edge of the yacht, that same smirk playing on his lips.

“You coming in?” he asks, his voice low, almost challenging.

You shake your head quickly, offering a small laugh. “No, I think I’ll just… stay here and enjoy the sun.”

Max arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying your excuse, but he doesn’t push it. He gives you one last look, his smirk still in place, before diving effortlessly into the water.

You watch as your friends giggle and enjoy themselves. Mila waves up at you, and you give her a fake salute. She giggles and goes back to swimming. A few minutes later, several members of the group come up to take a break, Max among them. You hate to admit it, but you watch the water droplets roll off him, his cheeks flushed from the sun, and a tight feeling blooms in your core as you force yourself to look away.

The group is lively, and at one point, Jamie, always the instigator, starts playfully shoving friends toward the edge of the boat, teasing and laughing. You stand at the back, watching, hoping to stay out of the chaos.

But in a moment of playful exuberance, Jamie swings his arm and accidentally nudges you forward. Time seems to slow as you lose your balance, and before you can even process what’s happening, you tumble over the side of the yacht. The water crashes around you, and as you hit the surface, the cold rush envelops you, sending panic gripping your chest. Instinctively, you kick your legs, but the water pulls you under, and you flail in confusion. The world above disappears, and the muffled sounds of laughter and splashing fade into silence.

Just as you start to lose hope, a strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back to the surface. You gasp for air, blinking the water from your eyes, and find yourself face-to-face with Max. His expression is intense, irritation etched on his features.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps, though his grip is steady and reassuring as he keeps you afloat.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, trying to shake off the fear. “I didn’t want to go in!” you manage to sputter, still clinging to him for dear life.

Max rolls his eyes, the frown returning, though it’s softer this time. “You need to stop thrashing around,” he says, his voice lower now.

As he helps you back onto the yacht, the warmth of the sun hits your damp skin once more. Laughter and cheers erupt from the group as they realize you’re okay, but Max’s presence is the only thing that matters to you in this moment. He doesn’t say anything; his expression remains unreadable as he sets you down.

You catch your breath, water dripping from your hair and running down your arms. “Thanks, Max,” you say, trying to brush off the embarrassment. His usual smirk is absent, and for a split second, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he cares.

But as soon as you’re on the boat, he steps back, leaving you with the others. “Try not to drown next time,” he says, his tone flat as he pulls his shirt back on, the fabric clinging to his damp skin. It feels more like a reflex than a genuine jab, but you let it slide, laughing it off. “I’ll try my best.”

He turns away, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. You shake your head, trying to focus on the laughter around you as Jamie and Mila check to make sure you’re okay. “Really, I’m fine,” you assure them, even as your heart races from the close call.

Just like that, everyone goes back to normal. Lunch is served, and as the yacht heads back to the dock under the fading light, you’re the first one off, eager to touch solid ground once more. You don’t bid anyone goodnight; you’re all too tired for that. You head upstairs to your room, closing the door behind you and shrugging off your damp polo and swimsuit. You hop in the shower, rinsing the salt water off your skin.

After your shower, the soft sound of knocking pulls you from your thoughts. You wrap yourself in a towel and open the door to find Mila standing there, concern etched across her features.

“Hey, just wanted to check on you,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes scan your face, searching for any signs of distress. “That fall looked pretty rough.”

You chuckle softly, waving it off. “I’m fine, really. Just a little embarrassed.”

Mila raises an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “You sure it’s not because of Max? I saw the way he pulled you out of the water. It looked pretty… intimate.”

The mention of Max sends a warmth flooding through you, one that you quickly dismiss. “Oh, please. He was just being a jerk, as usual.”

She smirks, crossing her arms. “Or maybe he just likes the attention.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, but a small part of you can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it. “He’s just… Max. You know how he is.”

Mila studies you for a moment, trying to read between the lines. “Well, just think about it. He’s not always the way he acts, you know?”

With that, she leaves, and you find yourself lost in thought, her words echoing in your mind. What if Max really did care?

Later that night, curiosity gets the better of you. You stand in front of Max’s door, your heart racing as you knock softly.

“Come in,” he calls, and you push the door open cautiously. He’s lounging on his bed, scrolling through his phone, and for a moment, you’re struck by how at home he looks.

“Hey,” you say, your voice soft. “I just wanted to thank you… for earlier.”

Max looks up, a flicker of something in his gaze before he masks it with indifference. “You mean for saving your ass?” he quips, his smirk returning. “Don’t mention it.”

You roll your eyes, stepping further into the room. “You know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t care, you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

His expression shifts, annoyance flickering across his features. “What do you want me to do? Throw you a parade for not drowning?”

“Maybe just a little acknowledgment would be nice,” you counter, crossing your arms defensively.

He stands, taking a step closer, and the air between you crackles with tension. “I don’t like how sweet you are,” he says, his tone sharp. “It’s annoying.”

“Annoying?” you challenge, feeling a rush of defiance. “Is that really all you’ve got? Because it sounds like you’re just scared of someone actually caring.”

Max’s eyes darken, and for a moment, you think he might snap back. But instead, he steps even closer, invading your personal space. “You think you’re so great, don’t you? All sunshine and rainbows, but it doesn’t work with me.”

Before you can respond, he closes the distance, and suddenly, his lips are on yours—fervent and demanding. His warmth envelops you, slightly chapped against your own, igniting a spark that sends a thrill coursing through your entire body. You’re caught off guard at first, but your instincts take over, and you melt into the kiss, feeling his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer.

As the kiss deepens, you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He presses you against the door, his body firm and solid against yours, radiating heat that makes your pulse quicken. The kiss is intoxicating; every second stretches into eternity—his lips moving against yours in a dance that feels both wild and tender.

When you finally pull away, breathless, your heart races as you search his eyes. “Wait… Max—”

He leans in again, his breath mingling with yours, heavy with longing. “You taste sweet,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, a smirk tugging at his lips.

A rush of warmth floods your cheeks at his words. “Is that all you have to say?” you tease, a smile breaking through your fluster.

Max steps back slightly, his hands still resting on your hips as he watches you intently. “What do you want me to say? That I’m an asshole who can’t help but want you?”

The air between you buzzes with unspoken tension—a mix of frustration and attraction. You feel exhilarated yet confused, unable to ignore the thrill of being this close to him, the chemistry crackling like electricity.

“Maybe you could start by admitting you actually care,” you challenge softly, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Maybe,” he replies, a hint of seriousness in his tone before leaning in again, capturing your lips with his. This time, it’s even more intense; his hands grip your waist as he deepens the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he can’t get enough of you.

But as the moment stretches on, you pull back slightly, breathless. “Max—”

He leans in again, and you find yourself needing to physically stop him, your hands resting on his chest. “Wait, we can’t just—”

“Why not?” he presses, his voice low and needy, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

You’re both panting, caught in an electric moment. “You’re infuriating, you know that?” you say, a smile creeping onto your lips despite the chaos swirling around you.

Max smirks, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, but you like it.” He crashes his lips against yours once more, and as he pulls away, he runs his tongue along his lower lip, a boyish smirk breaking through. “Sweet like honey,” he teases, prompting you to laugh and tilt your head back. Without thinking, you pull him down by his shirt collar, kissing him again, lost in the moment.

[bywons]

MORE THAN PRETEND 愛｡ fake relationship

𝖫𝖠𝖢𝒪𝖭𝖨𝖢───tired of playing pretend, they want to make it official with you

𝑜𝑓 ܃ fake bf!enhypen x f!r 2739 𝑤𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 headcannons fluff fake dating au ── 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 skinship kissing jealousy suggestive? ｡｡｡ ／ ( 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 )

૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა wow this could've been better, i rushed a lil TT but hope you guys enjoy ^^ !

reb𝑙ogs& ˊᗜˋ 𝑓eedbacks

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung’s always been the cool, nonchalant type—someone who can laugh off pretty much anything with that easygoing smirk of his. so, when one of your guy friends throws a casual arm around your shoulders during a group hangout, you expect heeseung to ignore it or joke in to the gossip, at least that's what he should do since you're not his real girlfriend. instead, he goes silent, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he watches the interaction with a clenched jaw.

the shift is subtle, but you know him too well. he doesn’t move from where he’s leaning against the wall, but the way his gaze follows your every move is unnerving.

“you good?” you ask, stepping closer after the gathering got over, and tugging lightly on his sleeve. his eyes snap to yours, and for a second, something almost dangerous flickers behind them before he masks it with a tight-lipped smile.

“yeah, i'm good.” his voice is flat, the usual playful tone gone. “didn't know you two were that close.”

you arch an eyebrow, tilting your head. “what, jealous?” you tease, hoping to break the tension, cracking him a smile.

heeseung lets out a humourless chuckle, his gaze sliding back to where your friend was standing. “of him? please.” the words are dismissive, but there’s a sharp edge underneath. heeseung finally pushes off the wall and closes the distance between you, his tall frame towering over yours as he dips his head down, his hand slowly caressing your upper hand. “but just so you know,” he murmurs lowly, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that only you can hear, “i’m your boyfriend, even if it’s fake. he doesn’t get to touch you like that.”

before you can respond, he pulls you into his chest, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist. the way he holds you is different—no teasing, no joking, just a raw, simmering intensity that makes your heart race.

PARK JONGSEONG

calm and collected are two adjectives that can define jay the best, a total gentleman— a perfect choice to play your fake boyfriend, the best fake plus one for your uncle's wedding. but tonight, at the party, you see his mask slip. it’s subtle at first—the way his eyes harden when he spots you talking to some random guy by the drinks table, swiftly turning his head away. he doesn't think much of it until the guy leans in closer, saying something that makes you laugh.

that’s when jay moves. he’s at your side in an instant, so swift you down even realise his imposing presence as he slides an arm around your shoulders. “hey,” he says, his voice light but his grip firm. “who’s your new friend?”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in his demeanour. “oh, uh—a family friend,” you answer, a tight lipped smile, but jay’s gaze doesn’t leave the guy’s face.

“right.” his smile is strained, more of a baring of teeth than an expression of friendliness. the guy glances between you and jay, looking a bit uncomfortable before mumbling an excuse and walking away.

as soon as he’s gone, jay pulls you closer, his hand slipping down to your waist, fingers digging in ever so slightly, your back hitting his chest. “next time,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, hot breath travelling softly down to your neck, “just tell him you have a boyfriend—me.” his voice is low and intense, vibrating through you.

your heart skips a beat. “jay, it’s not—”

“real? yeah, i know,” he cuts you off, turning you to face him. his dark eyes bore into yours, darting across your face real quick, resring on your lips. “but i don’t care. i don’t want anyone else thinking they have a chance with you,” he leans in even closer, his lips almost touching yours, “even if this is just pretend… you’re mine.”

SIM JAEYUN

the party is loud, laughter and music filling the air as you stand awkwardly by the punch table, watching jake from a distance. he’s talking to someone, a girl with long hair and a smile that lights up her face. his ex. you bite your lips, feeling a dull ache in your chest. it's silly—you’re not even really dating, but seeing him so at ease with her, leaning in to listen, his familiar grin in place, makes your heart clench, makes you feel it was you making his heart flutter instead.

they look like a perfect couple. a real couple, with real feelings for each other.

you turn away, trying to shake off the pang of insecurity by getting out of this place. but before you can slip out of sight, a familiar voice stops you.

“hey, what’s with the long face?”

you glance up, startled to find jake standing right in front of you, concern etched in his features. “n-nothing,” you mumble, forcing a smile. “just —felt out of place, i guess.”

jake’s gaze softens as if he can see right through your flimsy excuse. he steps closer, gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a worry line that you hadn’t realised had formed. he leans in ever so close, “is it because of her?” he asks softly, nodding back toward his ex. when you don’t respond, he leans in, his eyes locking with yours. “you know she’s just the past, right?”

“but you looked so happy, jake! and we're not even—” “i’m only yours, you hear me?” he whispers fiercely, his fingers tightening around your waist, pulling you into him. “fake or not, you’re the one i want to be with.” his voice is low, almost pleading. “i’m not going anywhere.”

warmth blooms in your chest, melting away the doubts. and when he kisses your forehead gently, it’s like the final seal on his promise.

PARK SUNGHOON

the elevator doors slide shut, leaving just you and sunghoon in the small, enclosed space. his shoulders brush against yours, a stark reminder of how close you’re standing. you glance up at him nervously, noting the sharp line of his jaw and the tense set of his shoulders. why does he look so annoyed? he hasn’t said a word since you two left the event.

you press the button for your floor, stealing another look at him. he’s staring straight ahead, expression unreadable, but you can tell something’s different today. his jaw is clenched, his hands stuffed into his pockets, tension radiating from him.

it hits you then—he saw you talking to that guy earlier. your colleague from work, who’s been too friendly lately.

the elevator jolts slightly as it begins its ascent, and the silence stretches. you clear your throat, shifting nervously, taking a quick glance at his side profile, “sunghoon, about earlier—”

“does he always touch you like that?” his voice is low, cold even, cutting through the still air like a blade, face away from yours, looking straight ahead.

you blink, caught off guard by the question. “what?”

he turns to you, stepping closer until the space between you is almost nonexistent. “your ‘friend’ at the office,” he mutters, his eyes narrowing, leaning his head down as he loosens his tie. “he seemed too comfortable.”

you feel a flicker of heat rising in your chest—he’s jealous. But why? “sunghoon, it’s not—”

“i don’t care what you think it is.” his hand reaches out, gripping the side of the elevator wall beside your head, caging you in. his breath hitches as he leans in, his face just inches from yours. “we might be pretending, but i don’t like it when anyone else looks at you that way. you’re mine.”

the possessiveness in his voice sends shivers down your spine. your heart pounds as you try to process the sudden shift in his demeanour, the unspoken intensity in his eyes, the impossibly fast heartbeat of yours.

“we’re not real, remember?” you manage to whisper, though your body betrays you, leaning into the space between you two.

“then tell me,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. his fingers brush lightly against your waist, the touch sending shivers down your spine. “why does it hurt so much seeing another guy looking at you?”

you stare at him, mouth dry, as his eyes drop to your lips.

“i don’t want to pretend anymore,” he whispers, “please..” a desperate plea from his lips as his hands control itself to not pull you in, but you don't wait, and close the gap between your lips. and he pulls you closer, bodies clashing against each other as the kiss escalates. he smirks into the kiss, you're his for real now.

KIM SUNOO

it’s pouring rain, and you’re soaked to the bone, standing under a bus stop shelter that does little to keep you dry. you mentally curse yourself for forgetting your umbrella, shivering as the cold wind cuts through your drenched clothes. just when you think your day can’t get any worse, a familiar car pulls up beside the curb, headlights cutting through the downpour.

the passenger window rolls down, and there he is—kim sunoo, your ‘fake’ boyfriend, his brows furrowed in a mix of exasperation and concern. “get in before you freeze,” he calls out, voice muffled by the sound of the rain.

you don’t need to be told twice. you scramble into the car, teeth chattering as you tug the door shut behind you. the warmth of the heater engulfs you instantly, and sunoo’s jacket is shoved into your hands before you can even register what’s happening. “you’re going to catch a cold,” he scolds, his voice laced with worry as he glances at your shivering form, “why didn't you call me?”

you blink up at him, feeling a strange flutter in your chest. “i … i didn’t want to bother you.”

sunoo sighs, leaning closer until you can see every droplet of rain clinging to his hair, every crease in his usually cheerful face. “idiot,” he murmurs, voice low and filled with something you can’t quite name. “you’re never a bother to me.”

your heart skips as he reaches out, brushing damp strands of hair away from your forehead with gentle fingers. his hand lingers, thumb tracing your chilled cheek softly.

for a moment, he’s quiet. then, he reaches over, wiping a raindrop from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, the gesture so gentle it makes your heart skip. “do you know how worried i was? pretend or not, i don’t want to see you like this,” he murmurs, his hand lingering near your face.

before you can respond, he leans over and tucks the jacket around your shoulders, pulling you close until you’re huddled against his chest and neck. “you’re mine to worry about,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then one on the bridge of your nose.

in that moment, under the sound of rain and the warmth of his embrace, it doesn’t feel like an act anymore.

YANG JUNGWON

it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. the plan was rather simple—show up together at the dinner, play the perfect couple in front of his friends, and go home as usual. but then the storm hit, trapping you at his apartment afterward, the rain pouring down outside in heavy sheets, drenching the city.

jungwon sits beside you on the couch, the dim glow of the lamp casting shadows across his sharp features, and you force yourself to look away. his jacket is discarded on the floor, sleeves rolled up as he runs a hand through his damp hair, frustrated by the turn of events. he looks too handsome right now.

it’s quiet, too quiet, with only the sound of rain tapping against the windows.

“looks like you’re stuck here,” he says, leaning back casually, but there’s a tension in the air that you can’t ignore. you tug the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to stay calm, but the warmth of the apartment and the intimacy of the moment is starting to make you nervous.

“i'll crash on the couch,” you mutter awkwardly, avoiding his gaze, but jungwon’s eyes are on you, piercing, like he’s studying every inch of your face. he doesn’t say anything at first, but then he moves closer, his knee brushing against yours, you shiver.

“you don’t have to,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver through you. his hand rests lightly on your knee, but it’s enough to make your heart race. “you can take the bed.”

before you can respond, jungwon cups your chin gently, turning your face toward his. his touch is soft but firm, like he’s been holding back for too long. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch, as his as well.

“we don’t have to pretend all the time, you know,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, his eyes darkening with something deeper, something real, “it's getting so hard for me…”

your heart skips a beat, and suddenly the fake relationship feels far too real. “jungwon, what are you saying?” you ask, your voice trembling as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours, hands falling down to your waist to pull you closer.

“i'm saying,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from yours, “that i want to kiss you, but in a real boyfriend way, and love you too while at that.”

the rain continues to fall outside, but all you can hear is the pounding of your heart as his lips brush softly against yours, the kiss gentle but full of unspoken emotions, before it quickly melts to an intense one. he pulls away slightly, his breath mingling with yours as he whispers, “stay with me tonight… for real.”

NISHIMURA RIKI

you never expected to find yourself in a fake relationship with riki, of all people—the energetic, mischievous older brother of your best friend. when he overheard you venting about your annoying ex constantly showing up at your favourite hangouts, he had put up a sly smirk and volunteered to be your fake boyfriend.

“think of it as a win-win. i get to mess with people’s heads, and you get a human shield. plus,” he had said, winking playfully, “it’ll be fun.”

you should’ve known that riki’s idea of ‘fun’ involved way more than you’d bargained for.

tonight, at your favourite late-night café, you spot your ex walking in, scanning the crowd. you freeze, heart thudding. before you can react, riki slides his arm around your shoulders, tugging you close. his scent—a mix of citrus and something else uniquely him—makes your pulse spike. it’s only for show, you remind yourself. except … he’s suddenly so convincing.

“hey, baby, you okay?” riki’s voice is loud enough to catch your ex’s attention, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm. he leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath tickling your ear. “you’re all tense.”

you fight the shiver that runs down your spine. “stop playing around,” you mutter, but he just smirks.

“i’m not playing,” he murmurs back, eyes twinkling. his gaze flicks toward your ex, who’s now glaring at you both, and riki’s grip tightens around you possessively. “i told you i’m the best at this.”

the next thing you know, riki’s turning you slightly in his arms, cupping your cheek in a way that looks so natural it makes your heart skip. the café lights catch on the gleam in his eyes—intense, focused. your ex is staring daggers at him now, but riki pays him no mind. instead, his thumb brushes your jaw softly, his face hovering inches from yours.

“relax, would you?” he murmurs, but his voice has lost its teasing edge. there’s something almost… protective in the way he’s watching you.

“riki —” you start, but he cuts you off by leaning even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “let me handle this.”

before you can process his words, he pulls you flush against him, his eyes never leaving your ex’s face. then, with a cocky grin, he dips his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

you freeze, heart pounding. when he finally pulls back, his gaze meets yours, unreadable. “there,” he says softly, still holding you close. “you’re mine now. got it?” and from the look on his face, you’re not entirely sure he’s pretending anymore.

© BYWONS, 2024 / do not copy or repost without permission / div cr plutism

taglist────open tags in the reblogs ! network tag. @/k-labels CLICK ME

[incognit0slut]

Pretty bunny

PART 1 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Sub!Spencer x Playboy Bunny!Reader Spencer doesn’t know what to do when he recognizes you from his favorite adult magazine.

Content: (18+) 3k, boobjob, male oral, public space, and Spencer being insecure of his size but we love him just the way he is, right? a/n: "WE LOVE PRINCE CHARMING REID!" We say in unison while we hold hands and continue to chant over and over again

Issue number: 662. Date: June 2009. Centerfold, pages 36 through 42, draped in nothing but the iconic bunny ears.

Spencer shook his head. No. There was no way it could be you. There was no way the same Playboy bunny he had masturbated to was casually picking up a book in this quiet library. But there was something unmistakable about you. The familiar curve of your back, the subtle sway of your hips, the way your ass rounded perfectly as you reached further down the bottom shelf.

His pants tightened uncomfortably.

It really was you.

Dear god, what were the chances? Spencer had only come to this library on a whim. It was supposed to be a simple day—run a few errands on his free day, pick up groceries, maybe find a new book to keep himself occupied. But what he didn’t expect was to come face-to-face with the very woman he had spent far too many nights thinking about. The same woman whose body he knew too well, even if you didn’t know him at all.

He shifted nervously, trying to focus on anything else—the books, the shelves, the smell of old pages—but his eyes drifted back to you. His gaze lingered on the neckline of your blouse dipping low as you bent further, revealing the soft curve of your breasts.

His tongue swiped over his bottom lip.

“Can I help you?”

Spencer’s heart nearly stopped when he noticed you staring at him.

“No,” he rushed out, the word falling through his lips like autopilot. "I was, uh, looking for a book."

Your brow raised slightly. “I didn’t know I was part of the collection.”

He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, and he looked away, trying to think of a response that didn’t make him sound like an idiot.

“No, no, that’s not—of course you’re not… I—” He stopped, realizing he was only digging himself into a deeper hole. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You straightened up, and he took in a sharp breath when your hips shifted slightly, brushing against the shelf as you moved.

“I wouldn’t say uncomfortable. Curious, maybe.” You crossed your arms. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who goes around staring at women in libraries.”

“I don’t,” he blurted out, his voice coming out a little higher than he intended. The way your crossed arms subtly pushed up your breasts only made it harder for him not to gawk at your chest. His gaze briefly flickered downward before snapping back to your face.

“I don’t,” he repeated in a voice he hoped sounded more confident than he felt. “You look… familiar.”

“Familiar? Have we met before?”

Of course not. Well, to you at least. He, on the other hand, had seen you more times than he could count. In photos, in dreams, in moments he’d rather not admit. “I… might have seen you in passing.” It was the truth. Sort of. “I didn’t expect to see you in a library.”

You let out a soft laugh. “I guess I don’t seem like the reading type to you, do I?”

He quickly shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I just didn’t expect to run into someone like you here.”

“Someone like me?”

"You know, someone who’s, uh, famous.”

He instantly winced when the words tumbled out, regretting how awkward and clumsy it sounded.​

“Ah,” you said with a knowing smile. “So you do recognize me.”

He paused for a moment, his eyes darting to the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but directly at you. “I… yes, I do. And I’m sorry,” he added, his second apology in less than five minutes. “I didn’t mean to make this weird.”

Your smile deepened, clearly enjoying his discomfort, but not in a cruel way—more in the sense that you found his awkwardness oddly charming. “It’s fine, I’m actually used to it,” you told him, uncrossing your arms. “And I don’t mind being recognized by someone as cute as you.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly. “…cute?”

“Adorable,” you emphasized. “What’s your name?”

You called him cute. Cute.

What was his name again?

Oh. Right.

“Spencer.” He cleared his throat nervously. "I’m... Spencer."

“Spencer,” you repeated, and he could hear the way your voice softened, almost breathless, like you were savoring the sound of his name as it slipped from your lips. “It suits you.”

His tongue swiped along his bottom lip. “It does?”

“Mm-hmm. It has a nice ring to it.” Your eyes flickered down to his mouth for a split second before meeting his gaze again. "Strong, but gentle. You seem like the type of guy with those traits."

Spencer felt a wave of heat run through him. “I—I wouldn’t say that...”

“Well you are,” you continued, leaning in just slightly. “You seem gentle, but there’s more to you, isn’t there?”

“I… I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

"Oh, come on," you said with a teasing grin, your eyes flickering over his features as if trying to read the depths of his thoughts. "You've got that sweet, quiet thing going on. Like you're trying to be all polite and proper... but there's something else, isn't there?"

His eyes darted at the edge of the bookshelf. “No. I’m just… me.”

"Just you? Somehow, I don't believe that. I think there's a side to you that doesn't come out very often. Maybe you're not so innocent as you let on. Or maybe..." Your voice dropped lower, almost a whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. "Maybe you're not as gentle as you seem."

There was a flicker of panic in his eyes as he tried to laugh off your words, the sound coming out strained and awkward.

“I’m really not that…”

But you didn’t let him finish. You leaned in closer, just enough that he could feel the heat of your body, your breasts brushing lightly against his chest.

“Not that what?” you pressed. “Not that innocent, or not that gentle?”

His pulse pounded visibly at his throat. “I... don’t know what you mean,” he said, but you could see the way his pupils dilated, the way his fingers twitched at his sides.

“I think you do,” you replied softly, your fingers brushing just barely against his. You watched as he stiffened, his shoulders momentarily tensing as if the slightest touch sent a shock through his whole body. You smiled, leaning in just a fraction closer. “I like you.”

You felt his breath hit your face as he let out a strangled sound, almost a gasp, and the warmth of it urged you on. Your hand gently found its way to his arm, fingers tracing a path down to his wrist.

“And I think,” you continued, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You might like me too.”

Spencer couldn’t find the words to respond, he couldn’t even breathe properly. How could he when your sweet scent filled his senses? How could he when he had imagined what it might be like to touch you, to have you this close, and now it was real?

He took a deep, calming breath to steady himself, but his heart was pounding violently against his ribcage, and his mouth had gone completely dry. Your fingers trailed down his arm, lingering for a moment before slipping under his hand to guide it firmly to your waist.

He was sure he could combust right on the spot.

“Tell me something, Spencer,” you murmured. “Did you like my pictures? The ones in the magazine?”

He tenses under your touch. His pupils dilated even further, his grip tightening on your waist involuntarily.

“I—uh,” he breathed out, his voice almost breaking, eyes darting away as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze. But you didn’t let him retreat. You shifted slightly, pressing your soft breasts more firmly against his chest. His gaze flickered back to your cleavage.

“Come on, I bet you did. I bet you… enjoyed them.” You let the implication linger. “Didn’t you?

His eyes fluttered close. Enjoyed felt too innocent for what he'd felt, what he'd done. He didn't just enjoy those photos—he devoured them. He touched himself, imagining you sprawled in front of him in that same pose. He fantasized about you, dreamt of your pretty face, the sultry look in your eyes, the way those cute bunny ears framed your hair but left everything else bare.

He grew even more painfully hard at the thought, and you could feel his his arousal pressed against your hip. A soft laugh escaped your lips.

"Spencer,” you cooed, his name rolling off your tongue effortlessly. "What ever are you thinking?"

He tried to shift away.

“I-I’m not—” he started, but every word he tried to speak died on his lips the moment your hand brushed against his stomach. He felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

“You’re not?” You let your fingers trail down his abdomen, feeling the way his muscles clenched under your touch, before drifting even lower. “Because it seems like you've got something on your mind. Or..."

Your fingers passed over his belt buckle, grazing the edge of his waistband.

“Somewhere..."

You hovered over his bulge.

“…else."

Without hesitation, you palmed his erection, feeling the full hardness straining against the fabric. He sucked in a sharp breath. “W-What are you—”

You brought your lips to the shell of his ear, letting your breath tickle his skin. “I think you know what I'm doing."

Spencer's eyes glanced to the side, as if anyone might appear around the corner at any second, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Not when your hand was moving slowly along his length.

“We… we can’t,” he managed to choke out. “Someone could—could see us."

“Hmm? Should I stop then?” You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “Do you want me to stop, Spencer?”

The hesitation in his eyes was unmistakable, but so was the desperation. Brown orbs stared helplessly back at you. He couldn’t bring himself to say yes when every part of him screamed no. So he opted for silence, hoping that his lack of protest would tell you everything he couldn’t put into words.

You understood him clearly, so you pressed your hand more firmly on his bulge, fingers teasing the sensitive outline through his pants. The shape of him grew even more defined as you moved slowly, teasingly, with just enough pressure to make him gasp.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

His grip on your waist tightened.

“Y-yes,” he managed to breathe out, eyes half-closed as he gave himself over to the sensation.

"I bet I can make you feel even better.”

Without breaking eye contact, you began to sink slowly to your knees, hands sliding down his body. You let your fingers trace down his hips as you came face to face with the unmistakable outline of his arousal, your gaze still locked on his as a smirk danced on your lips.

An IQ of 187 was hardly enough to process what was happening now. Every neuron in his brain fired wildly, trying to make sense of the rush of sensations, the heat of your touch, the intensity in your eyes.

How was this even real?

You let your lips hover for a moment, teasing him with the anticipation before you pressed a soft, lingering kiss against his cock. He let out a muffled cry.

“Shh,” you whispered soothingly, your fingers working at the straps of his belt. The metallic clink of the buckle was faint as you loosened it, pulling it free with a soft hiss of leather. “We don’t want anyone to hear us, do we?”

Your fingers brushed against his waistband, eyes looking up at him all doe-eyed, wide and innocent, though everything about your touch was far from it.

He was going crazy. You looked so sexy, so pretty, yet so impossibly cute in that moment, like the very picture of temptation wrapped in innocence. His mind couldn’t help but flicker back to those pictures—the pictures—where you wore nothing but those bunny ears, your gaze so similar to the one you were giving him now.

He watched as you slowly peeled down the fabric, and found himself holding his breath. The cool air met his hot skin as his cock sprang free, and for a second, he couldn’t breathe.

Because Spencer knew he was different. He wasn’t like the other men you’d surely encountered, who knew their way around a woman like you, who were confident, who didn’t hesitate. And then there was the matter of size. He couldn’t help the thoughts rushing through his mind, wondering if you’d find him lacking, if he measured up to whatever experiences had shaped you into the woman that knelt before him now.

But a smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you wrapped your hand around his cock.

“You’re so…” You let out a small, appreciative laugh, your thumb brushing over his tip. “God, everything about you is cute, isn’t it?”

Spencer struggled to steady his breath, his chest rising and falling in uneven bursts as your touch made it impossible to think clearly. You leaned closer, eyes still locked on his, and your tongue darted out to give a teasing kitten-lick along the base of his cock.

“Not too big,” you teased, dragging your tongue up the underside, tracing every ridge.

“Not too small…”

You let your tongue travel upward until you reached the tip, where you sucked gently, swirling your tongue around him in circles that had his legs shaking.

“You’ll fit perfectly.”

A pained groan fell through his lips. “Fit… where?”

You let go with a wet pop, his cock twitching as the cool air replaced the warmth of your mouth. Holding his gaze, you let your fingers move to your blouse, slowly undoing the buttons one by one. “Don’t think I didn’t catch you staring.”

Then in one sudden, fluid motion, you tugged your bra down, letting your breasts spill free. The movement made them bounce slightly, the soft curve of your flesh catching the light, and Spencer’s eyes went wide.

His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out, just a strangled groan as his cock twitched visibly. The sight of you was too much for him to bear. He couldn’t decide where to look, his gaze flickering between your breasts and your face, like he was afraid to miss a single second of this moment. He followed your movement with wide, hungry eyes as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him to your chest.

“See?” you teased, pressing his length firmly between the soft, warm flesh of your breasts. “Perfect fit.”

His pupils dilated with full-blown lust as you started to move, slowly at first, letting him feel every inch of your warm, soft flesh sliding around his cock. You squeezed your breasts tighter together, the pressure creating a delicious friction that had him biting back a groan, his eyes glued to the way he disappeared and reappeared between your curves.

Up. Down. Up. Down. The head of his cock glistened as it emerged at the top again, only to slide back down into your cleavage, leaving a hot, wet trail along your skin.

“God… oh god,” Spencer choked out, his voice strained as his hips bucked slightly with each thrust. His eyes squeezed shut briefly, only to flutter back open as if afraid to miss a second of what was happening. His mind was a mess of disjointed thoughts, desperately trying to make sense of the scene unfolding before him. But all rationality was drowned out by the way you moved, the soft squeeze of your breasts around him, and the warm, slick glide of your sweat-kissed skin against his length.

He felt himself spiraling, the pleasure climbing higher, and all he could think was how good you looked, how perfect it felt, and how badly he wanted to paint his cum all over your face.

“Look at you all worked up.” You leaned forward slightly, letting the tip of his cock brush against your lips as it emerged, just the barest whisper of a touch. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

His fingers dug even deeper into the shelf, nails scraping against the wood. His voice was raw, almost desperate, as he let out a strained, “Please.”

With a satisfied smile, you lowered your head just enough to let your tongue flick out, circling around the head of his cock as it emerged from between your breasts, tasting the salty-sweet bead of arousal that had formed there. His hips slammed forward.

“Mm,” you hummed softly. “You wanna use me now, Spencer? Is that what you want?”

His grip on the shelf finally faltered, and you could hear the whimper in his throat, the way he bit down on his lip to keep from making a sound that would echo in the library. “Yes,” he gasped. “Please, I… I need to…”

“Go on,” you coaxed him, squeezing your breasts tighter around his length. “If you want it, take it. Use me.”

The moment those words left your lips, his hips jerked forward. The movement was sharp, desperate, and once he started, he couldn’t stop. He fucked himself into the tight, slick warmth of your breasts. He stammered incoherently, half-formed words falling from his lips, barely audible over the sounds of his ragged breaths and muffled whimpers.

“Please, I—I can’t… I can’t—oh god…”

He finally snapped, his body trembling violently as the sensation ripped through him, the pressure too intense, too overwhelming. His hips bucked wildly, thrusting desperately into the warmth of your body, lost in the heat, in the wetness, in the need to let go completely—

And then, everything vanished in an instant.

He jolted awake, eyes snapping open, his chest heaving as he took in his surroundings. No longer surrounded by warmth, no longer on the brink of release. Just the quiet stillness of his bedroom, sweat beading on his forehead, heart pounding in his chest, sheets tangled around his body… and the magazine lay open beside him, your image staring back at him mockingly.

Bunny ears perched on your head, delicate breasts spilling over, legs spread wide apart.

It took a few seconds for Spencer to catch his breath. He glanced down at himself, his eyes trailing to his painfully hard arousal, noticing the wetness seeping through his boxers and sticking to his skin. The rush of disappointment and adrenaline twisted sharply in his chest as reality hit him.

It was just a dream.

An embarrassing, all-consuming, impossible dream.

[staryuee]

WHAT THEY DO WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE!

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread, dainsleif/pantalone may be ooc (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . just cute habits, actions etc that they do, whether intentionally or not, after being struck with cupid’s arrow.

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . jean, diluc, zhongli, xiao, nilou, xianyun, dehya, wanderer, arlecchino, pantalone, dainsleif

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . scrolling through the genshin tag makes me wanna die sometimes…i’m trying to do investigative work and i have to quickly scroll past the same smutty language like it’s booktok torture + also i’ve been playing baldurs gate 3 for the past several days and i think i’ve developed a problem…

G. JEAN — 琴

ʚ jean is very subtle in the way she loves someone, she doesn’t want to keep it secret per se, but her love is always almost adjacent to a puppy crush; something that seems fleeting but in the long run returns harder and hits oh so much worse.

ʚ she can’t necessarily abuse her powers, and she wouldn’t dare dream of messing up the order she so carefully has managed to maintain, so the way she tries to convey her feelings across isn’t too brash or loud.

ʚ simple things like letting her hands brush against yours when she passes you documents, allowing you to visit her office whenever you please even if it’s to just sprawl down at a nearby couch and read a book you found in the library while meandering, and even letting you join her on her daily walks across the courtyard.

ʚ during windblume festivals she won’t hesitate to strike up a seemingly harmless and friendly conversation, all the while sneaking a flower into your hair that resembles the feelings you stir up inside her fuzzy heart.

ʚ jean is overall quite an awkward person when it comes to anything related to romantic or plantoic ties, she’s a bit of a people pleaser in that way where she prefers to assume everyone’s a friend before an enemy… or in this case, “interested”.

ʚ with backup and sought guidance from her good friends lisa and kaeya, she’ll try a myriad of tactics to get you to notice her; a little shoulder massage there, a heartfelt sticky note placed on your workstation there, inviting you to classic candlelit dinners etc.

ʚ yes, believe me, she even tried the cartoonish “rose bit between teeth and uncomfortably arched side lean on a wall” approach before deciding it’s much better to listen to herself than the flamboyant duo.

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

ʚ diluc is the actual epitome of a gentleman. his love is so pure and genuine you can’t help but flower press every petal from the various bouquet he personally delivers to you on special occasions (anything from you completing a particularly hard or draining mission to doing something you thought you’d suck at).

ʚ his coat is also yours now. it’s like a six sense at this point to notice when you’re shivering out in the cold winds, and it’s become even more of a routine for him to simply shed that fluffy coat of his and drape it appropriately over your shoulders, trying to maintain a comfortable distance between you two as he adjusts it both to ease your tension and assure the pounding of his heart goes unheard.

ʚ diluc doesn’t enjoy using his riches to woo someone, it’s uncouth and just shows a desperation unbecoming of someone who dates to marry. if he wants to know you’re in it for the long haul, he’ll be much more sensitive and thoughtful when picking out gifts for you, each them have to hold some level of significance in your life.

ʚ the whole fiasco with his poor maids and some sneaky, perverse stalkers and diluc’s flaming great sword certainly applies to you as well; he’ll quietly ensure your safety in the night, helping you walk home with his arm hooked under yours, and in broad daylight he won’t hesitate to swing that polished wolf’s gravestone of his against any onlookers.

ʚ diluc is extremely closed off but deeply sentimental, he can so easily find himself rambling about his childhood stories to you; anything from how he used to collect seashells with kaeya to bring back to their dad, or how him and jean used to let baby barbara braid their hair together while babysitting…to things that are slightly more troublesome and heart wrenching to even mutter.

ʚ he may be less vocal than most in terms of feelings, but that doesn’t mean he won’t commit to it if he’s in love with someone. diluc isn’t the slightest bit dumb, he understand in order to get his feelings across he needs to do more than take random days off to spend time with you, he needs to at least hint it in a way that clearly gets his intentions across.

ʚ believe me, whenever you come by to dawn winery per notice, everyone raises a brow at you with curious smirks and gazes as diluc nearly stumbles on his words to get the phrase: “you look lovely tonight” out.

ZHONGLI — 钟离

ʚ he has up to thousands years of romantic customs under his belt, he understands the vague signs and ways to further communicate how much he adores you.

ʚ … that would be the case in its full if not for the fact for the first thousand couple years of his life he wasn’t busy maiming other gods and shedding blood. safe to say, his memories of mortal “courting” is slightly, if not absolutely, a massive, weaving and overlapping trail of various centuries and cultures he’s been accustomed to; anything ranging from the days when khaenri’ah was still in its prime to nowadays with newfound slang.

ʚ he’ll recite the most beautifully heartfelt and awfully sincere poem all the while you’re fighting your life in a haunted house (he’s heard this activity is helpful to get couples closer to one another, and given the fact you’re clinging on for dear life at the edge of his coat, he assumes he’s on the right track!)

ʚ he wants to impress you while also maintaining an air of genuineness to his actions, and while that does sometimes end in awkward situations where he ends up wearing regal attire to what’s supposed to be a casual dinner at wangmin, his heart remains completely pure in its endeavours.

ʚ oh, let’s not forget this man is quite literally a dragon too!

ʚ sometimes he can forget you don’t have the same complexion as him and will proudly present you some sort of glimmering relic from his hoard, forgetting that certain materials that existed back in the day were deadly and or toxic for mortals to touch let alone possess.

ʚ with a little nudge in the right direction, he’ll quickly learn everything there is to know for how to properly handle your precious heart. whatever you’d like, you may have — if it’s within his reach, that is. but it doesn’t mean he’ll stop at what’s available, no, just how much he’s willing to risk for you.

XIAO — 魈

ʚ he’s already embarrassed and awkward enough with accepting the fact he likes you, so accepting the fact that he loves you had left him with a lengthy exorcism spree down in some forgotten areas in liyue (it didn’t help).

ʚ in all honestly, not much changes; both because he’s rather emotionally constipated but also because he’s more than sure he’s loved you for longer than he seems to currently acknowledge.

ʚ letters that came only on special occasions like your birthday or his became much more frequent and a lot less poetic, it felt more like he was writing about his thoughts at the time, a little akin to how you’ve made him feel less constricted and much more free; he can finally have the courage to step out of his comfort zone.

ʚ all those small acts of love he used to subtly express (i.e gifting you two crystaflies, personally inviting you to come hang out, etc) he manages to double, he can’t have you thinking his intentions are the same as before. no, they’re much stronger now.

ʚ his guard softens around you regardless, but when you randomly fall asleep on his shoulder on your weekly visits at wangshu inn, instead of taking you to one of the rooms, he’ll sit there and allow you to rest, and if he’s assured you’re not awake to ridicule him, maybe, just maybe…he’ll sneakily loop his arm around your waist.

ʚ even just the thought of you makes him spiral into daydreaming, sitting atop a tree and swinging his leg back and forth carelessly as he stares up at the night to await for a new light, knowing full well the only sun he wants to see is you…just imagining his hands holding your waist like they did so long ago makes him shiver (hopefully this time he’ll get to do it when you’re not falling, and instead are falling for him)

NILOU — 妮露

ʚ nilou is basically a disney princess, if you see her singing to random birds that come watch her performances, everyone in the grand bazaar already knows it’s because you’ll be in the crowd that night.

ʚ each step within her routines are done with the little more passion, if that even is possible given her character, all because she imagines that pride and hopeful heart eyes in your eyes as all the attention is on her.

ʚ sometimes this fixation can lead to dumb mistakes on stage which bring her to sulking away with a hand on her forehead dabbing away at the sweat, but even the mention of your name as you pass by several sumeru streets is enough for her to brighten, do a quick wardrobe switch and run off to tackle you within her embrace.

ʚ nilou is not loud, but definitely not subtle. the exact representation of how she feels when you come to encourage her at her lowest (though those days are few). you’re there for her in ways you don’t imagine, and that alone is enough for her to daze away into the night as she cuddles her pillow, legs wrapped around it and all, and begins thinking about the what ifs of your relationship.

ʚ sometimes it’s a little comedic the way she speaks about you, it almost sounds like she’s reminiscing about a fictional book character with how much she takes pride in whatever little thing you do. no one tires of seeing her footsteps lightly tap against the ground in circles as she gushes about how when you complimented her the other day, you touched her cheek seemingly subconsciously ∩^ω^∩

XIANYUN — 闲云

ʚ she’s a little embarrassed at just how obvious she can be sometimes, it doesn’t help the fact her own children keep using this love of hers to their advantage.

ʚ she keeps nagging them about not taking care of themselves (she’s all too keen about their health and whereabouts now that she dwells alongside liyuean people) and yet just the mention of your name has her slightly stuttering in a ditzy trance as she hooks her glasses back up her nose bridge.

ʚ without hesitance, she’ll show you a photo album she has of all those close to her; would you like to see the drawing little ganyu made when she just barely had her horns? or perhaps the polearm young shenhe broke when she miscalculated her own strength in training?

ʚ her family is her pride and joy, it’s only natural for her to want you to be part of it even if it’s something as silly as raking through photos of a chubby ganyu eating the stem of a flower or teeny shenhe napping on a tree.

ʚ a peaceful life mingling with mortals has left her with ample time to enjoy the trivialities of life, and yet she finds her mind all too quickly wandering to you; had you been taking care of yourself? were you feeling lonely? did you need her to make something for you?

ʚ a secretive worry wart that quickly becomes that ancient adetpus she used to pride herself as soon as your delicate hands accidentally brush against hers; suddenly she’s perked up, chest heaven up high with a confident hand on her shoulder: you wouldn’t even think that flurry of pink hues gushing across her cheeks was real if not for the light providing evidence.

DEHYA — 迪希雅

ʚ oh she’s absolutely ecstatic!!

ʚ there’s genuinely nothing better than love in her eyes, especially just having the ability to love and trust someone fully when you haven’t been able to do so for a plethora of years.

ʚ doesn’t try to hide it, like at all, if anything she makes it rather obvious with the way she constantly pulls you closer as if you were already an item, arms constantly clinging onto you and your sides or her hands messing up your hair as you greet her.

ʚ she’ll take you anywhere you ask, free of charge of course (just promise to smile…and maybe if you’re up for it give her a kiss on the cheek, that’s sure to be enough reimbursement).

ʚ she’s already quite a confident and outwardly friendly person (if the price is right that is) but when in your presence? what’s wrong with just a little bit of showing off…

ʚ dehya needs you to see the best side of her!! maybe then you’ll finally give in and realise that her constantly asking for you to come join her on her travels and commissions isn’t brought out of mere timed coincidence

WANDERER — 流浪者

ʚ i saw that a few people were upset and confused by wanderer’s sudden switch up into being more kind/friendly, but i think we all forget what kind of person he was before his betrayals.

ʚ he loves wholeheartedly, if he adores something it consumes him in a warm pit of mushy domesticity — he doesn’t hate love or being kind, he hates the way it makes him vulnerable and the way it reminds him of the way he used to be.

ʚ that also means he’ll completely ignore you, or, try his best to rather.

ʚ wanderer knows within his heart that he completely years for you, just the accidental slip of his gaze meeting yours makes his brain go haywire, sending volts of electricity down his spine — you make him feel so alive.

ʚ it’s terrifying to return to a person you once were especially now with the knowledge of how being the way you were lead to some sort of tragedy, he’s managed to build up these walls so high and here you were, sneaking in through cracks he didn’t even know he had.

ʚ and he both loves it and hates it; loves the fact he can still feel, but hates how he’s so easily susceptible.

ʚ loving you turns into self-loathing and brooding, his feet pacing up and down every street at night to clear his muddled head. small distractions like taking strolls in meadows or sleeping up in the vines of trees lead to just thoughts of you and you alone.

ʚ wanderer refuses to be overly friendly and buddy-buddy with you even if he’s aware that if you decided to just one day hold him sincerely he’d burst into tears, but he can compromise with being less cutthroat.

ʚ “shut the fuck up” turns into him just rolling his eyes at you as you ramble (he soaks up any piece of information he can and locks it away), items you gift him now are more apparent in their value as he yells at those who dare question the dumb aranara pin you bought him and placed sneakily on his hat…oh and he gives you hat privileges.

ʚ it’s raining? …get close to him so you don’t begin complaining about the way the rain feels on your skin.

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

ʚ she starts treating you less like an asset in her “contact if in need of assistance” roster and more like a friend — of course, she maintains that distance between you two, but she lets you wriggle around in her heart to see if you manage to fit.

ʚ chances are, you will — unknowingly she’d grown to love you in ways that may have even gone unnoticed by her given how natural they were; inviting you to random gatherings when the whim arises, pulling your chair out for you when out for brunch, or even tucking away strands of hair and twirling it around playfully.

ʚ arlecchino’s love isn’t something immediate or expected, she’s a woman who keeps every card close to her chest and her children even closer, you have to prove to her that you’re worth it, in a way that doesn’t necessarily mean spilling blood but more so answers the question: do you care, and are you willing to accept her blinding love?

ʚ it’s like a shepherd dog with a lost lamb, but that little sheep is just you, and she’s a wolf in need of a muse.

ʚ cute tea parties aren’t uncommon with the two of you, she’ll happily let you indulge yourself in treats as she leans back with scorching tea in her hands while memorising every curve of your lips as you chew and swallow, she loves watching the way your eyes crinkle when you smile and the little sway from side to side you occasionally do as an expression of joy.

ʚ once arlecchino notices that she’s began treating you as another authority figure in the house of hearth, she’ll reach and collar you gently, intertwining her dark, cursed hand into your flowery one.

PANTALONE — 潘塔罗涅

ʚ one of the most attractive qualities a man can have is knowing when to shut the fuck up and to slide his card over during a dinner — both such things pantalone can do effortlessly, especially when it comes to you.

ʚ arlecchino claims that: “he allows his actions to be governed by the vengeance and hatred locked in the depths of his heart.” something that definitely translates into his love affairs in more than obsessive manners.

ʚ don’t be afraid of the massive hauls of clothing and sparkling jewellery galore that are being trudged in by multiple men, darling, it’s just a menial souvenir from his latest travels and newfound connections that he thought you might enjoy ^^

ʚ while his grandeur usually stems from his deep hearted desire to overthrow the imbalance between immortals and mortals, rest assured the luxury he provides you purely stems from his desire to make you his.

ʚ whether that entails you being his pet for him to seek comfort from on the occasion or a genuine connection where he can comfortably hold you at night purely depends on you.

ʚ oh, you’ll let him chew your ear off about his recent expedition and extravagant plan? consider your rent payed for the next few months and a few kisses on your cheek that certainly aren’t actually part of the snezhnayan custom (let him indulge in those little cravings or else he’ll undoubtedly be petty).

DAINSLEIF — 戴因斯雷布

ʚ has a breakdown.

ʚ a little dramatic, but honestly if his entire life wasn’t a disgusting mess already, you’ve come to make it worse. fate is deliberately mean to brooding blondes it seems, given the fact he’s now stuck pacing around back and forth on a trail of dead abyss mages as he rereads a letter you’ve sent him weeks ago.

ʚ everything you give to him, everything you say, do, write, whatever, he remembers implicitly. each word you say is engraved into him as if they were important artefacts regardless of how pointless and mundane.

ʚ it can honestly get a little…scary at times? you’ll mention liking something once and all of a sudden you find it within your possession at least a few weeks later.

ʚ dainsleif doesn’t have enough time to wallow in the glory of mushy, all consuming love despite desperately wanting to imagine how your hand would feel caressing down past each of his scars, but what he can do is protect you, and to him that’s a greater blessing than intimacy he knows will end eventually.

ʚ a big tough man who would honestly fold the moment you call him any variation of a pet name, specifically with the word “mine/my” at the beginning — hey, it’s nice knowing you mean something to someone the point they view you as inseparable.

ʚ the timings at which he comes to aid you are all too convenient and believe me he’ll try his best to downplay it as coincidence, all the while he’s breathing heavily both from the face your eyes are scanning his so closely and the fact he used up so much energy to merely make a portal to sneak into your space.

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[nyankochan]

Cloudcalling on the Savannah

Synopsis: It’s time for the yearly Cloud Calling Festival in the Sunset Savannah. It’s Leona’s first time home in years and there’s more than one reason why he’s avoided visiting.

Pairings: Leona Kingscholar x lioness!reader (she/her pronouns)

Content: fluff turn smut at the end, vanilla sex, virginity loss

Word Count: 4.2K

A/n: bonus points for catching all the Lion King references.

I headcannon that Leona speaks another language at home, like Swahili or something that he speaks when he doesn’t want people to understand his conversations.

15 years ago

Leona grunted in pain, trying not to bite his tongue as you pinned his frame to the mat. Even though you were way smaller than him, you managed to overpower him with ease and flip him on his backside.

“Pinned ya’,” you say with a toothy grin, your baby canines poking out cutely.

“Get offa me,” Leona grumbled, trying to push you off so that you wouldn’t see the ways his cheeks started warming from embarrassment, not even from losing but rather, your close proximity made him uncomfortable for some reason.

You gleefully let him go, Leona rubbing his shoulder that was now achy from the way your nails dug into them. “That’s two wins for me, and none for you~”you tease.

Leona growls and while you weren’t paying attention, lunges for you. The two of you tumble to the ground once more, but you swiftly manage to roll the two of you over. You sit on top of his chest, keeping his arms pinned to his side.

“Pinned ya again.”

Your hands feel warm against his. Your ears twitch slightly in excitement, something so small that most people don’t notice, yet Leona has developed a subtle knack for picking up the littlest things about you. From the way you style your bangs slightly to the left and how you prefer your meat grilled when the two of you visit Raintree Market. However, when it just comes to fighting, your senses outshine his. But with your mother being a renowned veteran amongst the Palace Guards, Leona believes you came out of the womb fighting.

“Tch whatever. I’m done.” Leona shoved you off, standing to leave the training room.

“Ehh? But I want to spar more! Isn’t it fun!?”

“No,” Leona answers flatly. “I’m gonna go take a nap.” Your ears flatten in disappointment.

“Boo you’re no fun.” Nonetheless, you follow the young prince along like a guard, yet you ramble away about anything and nothing at the same time, immune to his annoyance.

If Leona were to be honest, he found you highly annoying. The only reason why you two were forced to spend any time together was because of your parents. If he had it his way, he’d rather spend his day napping or perhaps playing chess. Nope. Because of you, he gets dragged along with your shenanigans most of the time, and he can’t say no without you running off crying to your mother or Neji scolding him about being nice.

You were a real thorn in his side.

“Heyyy Leona…Leona…Leona! Are you listening to me?”

“Not one bit,” Leona responded, making you huff in annoyance.

“You know what! When we get married, you’re gonna finally listen to me!” You suddenly proclaim, making Leona stop abruptly. More like, he ended up stumbling over his feet. You not paying attention walk right into him.

“Huh?! W-why in the world would I marry you!?” Leona yelled, trying not to stammer over his words due to the fact that he was so caught off guard by your statement. Marriage?! You two were 5. That kind of stuff was disgusting! He’s seen how his parents act and he wanted no part in it.

“Neji said we will,” You say as if it were the most obvious thing. “So, when that day comes you’re going to listen to me, Leona Kingscholar!”

Leona, despite his efforts, found himself grinning. Then laughing. You continue to huff and pout, not liking being made fun of.

“Sure,” Leona said in between laughs. “And when that day comes, I’m all ears.”

Present Day

Leona was annoyed, more than usual. He had just arrived home for the Bead Brawl and the Cloudcalling festival, and things weren’t already going to plan. Well, nothing had gone to plan from the moment Neji called and so graciously reminded him to come home this year, so he couldn’t skip out like he originally planned. Then, not even 10 minutes into arriving at Sunset Savannah, Jack suffers from heat stroke and they have to detour to Sunset Villa for him to get proper medical treatment.

While at the Villa, they find Kalim, who was a guest on behalf of the Scalding Sands Al-Asim family, to which Leona makes him a substitute on the team in lieu of Jack.

“Whatddya say, Kalim? Your ‘friends’ need your help?” Leona says, without a hint of sincerity.

“Leo having friends? Never would’ve seen the day.” The new voice makes Leona stiffen. Suddenly a pair of hands cover his eyes. Though his vision becomes obscured, he doesn’t have to look to know who the grating voice belonged to. “Guess who~”

“I despise guessing games,” Leona retorts.

“Boo~” The person lets him go. “You’re no fun.”

Leona sighs, rubbing his temple in annoyance. “I shouldn’t be surprised you’re here, Y/n. I’m sure your mother’s stationed here for the festival.”

It’s been maybe a couple years since he’d seen you. He actively avoids coming home for many reasons, her included. When he does come home for the holidays, he does everything he can to avoid you. In recent years, with your training for the palace guards, you’re too busy to even harass him.

Since the last time he saw you, you’ve slimmed out more and gained more muscle. The uniform doesn’t look baggy on you now. You’re still short as ever though.

“Neji told me you were finally coming home,” you say, somewhat coldly. A complete change from your earlier bubblier persona. “You enrolled in a prestigious school and now you’re too good for us back at home, huh? I can’t even get you to respond to a text nowadays.”

Leona rolled his eyes. “You still like picking fights over dumb stuff.” Now, he’s gathered an audience, his classmates staring in confusion and wonder at the lioness that suddenly appeared. “Everyone, this is Y/n L/n. She’s the daughter of the palace guard’s head commander. We grew up together.”

“It’s nice to meet Leo’s school friends,” you say, teasingly. Leona just clicks his tongue in annoyance while the Night Raven College students go around introducing themselves.

“Miss Y/n and Prince Leona are betrothed, set to be married by the time they’re 25,” Neji interjected. He gives Leona the side eye. “You’d best use proper titles when referring to your future bride.”

Hearing that Leona Kingscholar was engaged, set to marry in only a few short years surprised Grim, Yuu, Kalim, Vil and Lilia nonetheless. Even more strange, Leona and Y/n seemed more like annoyed roommates than what one would expect a future husband and wife to be.

After everyone gets changed into their liongarb (no one comments on the fact, though it’s noticeable, how the color of Leona’s clothing complements Y/n’s), the group goes down to the Raintree Market to explore some of the city.

You and Leona play tour guide, all while bickering between yourselves. If Leona suggested something that you didn’t agree with, you counter with your own. You also throw no shortage of sly comments Leona’s way whenever he complained about his brother, his leadership skills, or how the country would benefit to actually harvest their resources instead of leaving them be. Not that you didn’t agree, but if Leona were actually home more often, he could implement some of the good ideas you know he has.

It’s a mixture of uncomfortable and entertaining for Grim, Yuu, Kalim, Vil and Lilia.

“It’s hard to believe they’re actually going to be getting married,” Vil deadpanned. “It may be a good thing they aren’t taking the throne.”

They watch in amusement as Leona approaches what looks like some sort of kabob stand. You had been standing there staring wide eyed, mouth slightly agape with drool. Without asking, Leona bought two and gave them to you. Your face warms, and you mutter something along the lines of a thank you as you take the food.

“I don’t know,” Lilia laughs. “I think they have their own strange way of showing their affection.”

“Miss Y/n and Prince Leona may not look like it, but they’ve always been close,” Neji explains, watching the couple with an amused look. You tug on his sleeve, pointing at another stand while nibbling on the food he had just bought. Leona seemed to sigh, rolling his eyes as he lets you tug him along. “The L/n family has protected the royal family for generations. Prince Leona and Miss Y/n did in fact grow up together, but she was always trained to be able to protect him and his brother, Farena.”

“How did they end up being betrothed?” Yuu wonders.

“Prince Leona’s parents and Miss Y/n’s mother thought it would be a great way to unite the families. After all, why not if relations between the two have always been good?” Neji then sighs. “Unfortunately, those two have always had a knack for causing trouble. They both slack off on their duties, Prince Leona more so. However, Miss Y/n’s seemed to focused more on her duties as of late because it keeps her distracted from Leona’s absence.”

“Aw it sounds like she misses Leona-senpai,” Kalim commented.

“Though she never will admit it, it does bother Miss Y/n when he doesn’t come home,” Neji confirms. “She keeps a stubborn guard up, but I think she truly loves Prince Leona. As for Prince Leona-“

The influx of patrons makes the Raintree Market all the more crowded. Leona doesn’t even seem to realize what he does. He’s just being a gentleman (for once) in his eyes when he guides a hand at the small of your back to keep you close. His tail swishes back and forth, ears standing on alert while you order a dessert. You offer a spoonful of the custard treat to Leona, who boredly takes a bite.

Who would dare mess with the fiancée of the Prince of the Afterglow Savannah? Especially when he was around.

“He’s quite overprotective, you see,” Neji says. “Although Y/n’s trained her whole life to protect the royal family, I’m sure Leona would lay down his life to ensure her safety.”

~*~

At the end of the day, the Night Raven College team returns back to Sunset Villa after several practice rounds for the bean brawl where a feast had been prepared to welcome all of the esteemed guests. The current strategy Leona had come up with was to have Kalim as vanguard, Vil as the middle, and for Lilia to compete in the final bout as the anchor. Though practice went well, to say that he wasn’t worried still was an understatement.

“You look more annoyed than usual,” you say, plopping down beside him on the couch. “All your friends are enjoying the music and the barbecue and you’re sitting over here like a bug on a log.

“It’s nothing,” Leona responds, taking a bit of food off your plate. You huff in annoyance. You eye the stage where Kalim, Grim and Lilia joined dancing with the performers. You stand, putting your plate to the side.

“Come on.”

“Hah?”

“Come dance with me,” you say holding out your hand.

“What? No way,” Leona rolls his eyes.

“Please Leo? Humor me?”

At your plea, Leona sighs. He stands, grabs your arm and pulls you to a rather obscure corner where there aren’t many onlookers. You two were forced to practice this traditional dance so many times as kids, you both could do it in your sleep. Even though he may not look it, Leona is a great dance partner who guides your movements in tangent with the rhythm of the music.

“You really don’t want to do those lessons, don’t you,” you finally speak, switching to the native language of the Afterglow Savannah so that your conversation is relatively private. “Dragging along your classmates in this little scheme of yours. You can be a pain in the ass sometimes, ya know.”

“What can I say,” Leona answers back in the same language. “I don’t want to waste my time on something so pointless and boring.”

You roll your eyes as he whirls you around. Leona’s eyebrow quips when he notices something strange as your hair flutters up. Did you always have that scar on your collarbone? “If you actually did your job, then maybe we could see some real changes here. You sell your ideas short.”

“Doesn’t matter. In the end, I will never be king. And you will never be queen.” The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s disappointed. Sad he’d never be able to give you the title or the throne if married to him.

“I don’t care about being Queen,” you say quietly. “Things like that don’t bother me. I just want to stand with you as your equal.”

When the song concludes, the two you stare at each other for a beat too long before separating. A small audience, much to your embarrassment, had gathered to watch the two of you dance.

“Never thought I’d see the day where Leona would dance,” Vil mused.

“Ohh! You should join the pop music club!” Kalim excitedly suggested.

“What a great idea,” Lilia agreed. “The night’s just started! Let’s continue the party!”

“I’m surrounded by idiots.”Leona sighed, rubbing his temple, though only you picked up on it. You snicker under your breath. “We’re calling it a night. The tournament is early tomorrow and we all need our rest. So off to your rooms.”

Kalim and Lilia seem defeated, like kids told they couldn’t have dessert. Nonetheless you all disperse and start heading towards your own separate rooms.

“Y/n, where’s your room?” Leona asked. His classmates’ ears perk up at the sudden language switch. They didn’t know Leona was bilingual.

“Fourth floor. Why?”

“Come with me real quick to my room.”

Of course, as the second Prince of the Afterglow Savannah, Leona has a private suite that’s honestly like a mini apartment. His room overlooks the city which seems to glow as the sun sets. Though you’ve grown up here all your life, the sunset never ceases to amaze you.

“What did you need from me?” You ask, taking a seat on the king sized bed.

“That scar on your collarbone. That wasn’t there last time.”

You stiffen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Leona clicked his tongue. “You think I was born yesterday?” He grabs the shawl you had been wearing and tore it from your grasp before you could protest. There it was, the deep scar that ran from your collarbone, disappearing down your shirt and creeping up part of your neck. Your hair usually covered it, but he thought he was imagining something when he saw it back at the dinner. “Gods Y/n…what did you do?”

“Why does it matter to you?” You snap back. “I got it a several months ago. You wouldn’t have come home anyway.”

“If you were hurt that bad of course I would have! Y/n, that’s not just a minor scratch. Now tell me what happened or I’ll find Neiji.”

You sigh. “It was just an accident during training. We were out in the Savannah on the cliffside and I fell trying to protect one of the other lionesses. I think I fell about twenty feet they said. Banged up pretty bad. It happened around your midterms time, so I opted not to bother you during your studies.”

Though you treat it like a lighthearted manner, you fractured several bones and cut yourself pretty deep on a jagged rock. It was just a freak accident. No fault on either party. But it did take months to recover and by the time Leona came home for winter break, you were out of a cast.

“It’s fine! You always tell me I’m more clumsy than a newborn gazelle, so don’t worry so much-“

Leona stares at you with an unreadable expression. But you can tell from his tenseness, that he’s pissed. He then suddenly pulls you into his chest.

“L-Leo?”

“Don’t hide stuff like that from me. In fact, no secrets period. I don’t care how small. Got it?”

“I…uh…mmh…” you bury your face into his chest, inhaling his scent. He smells like mango and cedar. “Leo…I missed you…”

“Yeah yeah…I missed ya too.”

Omake-sexual content ahead

“I should go back to my room,” you sigh. Leona’s scent was so comforting, if you weren’t careful you’d fall asleep.

“Just stay here,” Leona said nonchalantly.

“Eh? We can’t?!”

“Hah? Why not?” Leona seemed almost insulted. “We used to share beds all the time as kids.”

“B-but that’s different!” By now your face was feeling hot from embarrassment. Your ears twitching skittishly.

“You’re my fiancée, are you not?”

Now you scoff. “This coming from the same guy who at five complained about marrying me.”

“If I do recall,” Leona said, closing the proximity between you two. “You were the one so insistent about it, going as far to say I better listen to you when we do. Well, you got what you asked for,” Leona taunted, his breath ticking your neck, making you whimper quietly. His hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest, preventing any escape. “I’m all ears kitten. You gotta use your words and tell me what you want.”

“L-Leona, please…”

“Mmm? Please what?” He tilts your chin up, his piercing green eyes staring into yours. “You’ve been yapping and pissing me off all these years only for you to decide to be quiet the moment I decide to listen?”

The embarrassment’s too great, so defiantly, you bite your tongue and refuse to say anything. Leona grins at this. “Fine then.” He undos your belt, pushing you to the bed as he pulls your pants to your ankles. “I’ll get it out of you one way or another.”

Leona sheds his cloak and in one swoop, takes off his shirt. His muscles flex with each movement. Your face flushes. It’s not like you’ve never seen Leona without a shirt or anything. But was his body always this attractive?

Kissing him isn’t what you expected. He’s gentle, almost hesitant, when he cups your cheek to press his lips against yours. The tenderness is so endearing you miss the way his hands wander up your sides to grope at your breasts. You whimper quietly.

“My pretty fiancée,” Leona mumbles against your lips. “Your heart’s racin’. You nervous? I’ll stop if you want.”

“No… don’t,” you plea, keening into Leona’s touch.

Leona is surprisingly attentive to you, prioritizing your needs over his own pleasure. He sits back on his heels to slide your underwear down your legs (pocketing it for later). He could feel his dick twitch in his pants as he takes in the sight of your pretty pussy, dripping wet from arousal. With a tight grip on your thighs, Leona takes an experimental lick at your core. The first wave of pleasure shoots through you which has you trembling.

“Now, I can get used to this,” Leona grumbles. He eats you out aggressively, his tongue weaving through your folds. Actually if he were honest, it brings him great satisfaction in taking care of you. Perhaps maybe even turns him on a bit. He could feel himself getting hard just from your taste alone, his stiffening cock beginning to press uncomfortably against his boxers.

Your back arches off the bed. Your fingers find their way into his long hair which you pull roughly. A throaty growl resonates from the back of Leona's throat. You feel something else prod down there, soon realizing Leona inserted one of his slender fingers, moving it in tangent with his tongue to stretch you out further.

"W-wait. Please," you whimper. "M-my stomach feels weird." With a loud cry, you feel your orgasm wash over you. A gush of slick coats Leona's tongue. He greedily laps up your essence, savoring the taste of you. He delivers one last harsh suck on your clit before pulling back.

“Let me know if it hurts, m’kay? Leona almost sighs in relief as he finally releases his cock from the confines of his boxers. His stiff erection oozes pre from the tip and twitches in his hand as Leona gives himself a few slow pumps to ease the pain.

Your heart’s hammering in your chest, still coming down from your orgasm and the anticipation of Leona claiming you. He aligns himself at your entrance, leaning down to claim your lips in a kiss again. Leona groans, spreading your legs wider as he slowly inches his cock deeper into your cunt. You whimper, a little too loudly, making Leona quick to cover your mouth.

“If you don’t want any of my annoying classmates to hear, you might want to keep it down.” His hands fall back to your hips as he feels your walls squeeze snuggly around him. His mind feels hazy and it takes everything in him not to ram into you right then and there. “Fuck. I’m going to cum at this rate if you don’t relax f’me.”

You on the other hand, cover your flushed face with your hands. Your body trembles with pleasure, heart racing in your chest. It feels so good. And your stubbornness makes you hate to admit that. You want more but Leona makes no effort to move, just holding your legs around his hips. His finger gently and teasingly tracing your clit.

“Look at me, Y/n,” Leona pants. You shake your head, keeping your hands over your face. He clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Stop being difficult and look at-“ When he pulls your hands back, Leona’s shocked to see tears in your eyes. “Oi. Why didn’t you say anything if it hurt?!”

You shake your head mumbling, “I-it doesn’t hurt-“

Leona’s ears twitch. “Huh?”

Your face burns. “It doesn’t hurt! Fuck. Leona. Please!”

A laugh rumbles through Leona’s chest. “Tell me what you want, Y/n. Look me in the eyes when you do.”

His striking green eyes bore into your own, not taunting you like usual. Almost begging for you to say what he wants as his restraint wavers.

“Leona, please fuck me.”

Leona grins. “Whatever you say.”

Your breath hitches as he moves. Leona growls lowly, fighting the urge to fuck you hard and fast. He rocks his hips, slowly dragging his cock through your walls making your shiver. Maybe you’re just sensitive from your last orgasm, but his lax pace makes you feel every vein on his cock as he reaches your cervix.

“Fuck, this feels good,” Leona grunts. You just squeeze around him so snuggly. Your walls flutter each time he moves, bringing him closer and closer to his release. He truly didn’t want it to end too soon. Especially cause he wanted to draw another climax out of you.

“M-move faster please,” you gasp as he hits your cervix again making tears trickle down your cheeks. Leona is quick to wipe them away, peppering your face with kisses. Your hips involuntarily buck up to meet his, desperately searching for more relief.

“Next time. Next time I will. I don’t wanna…fuck, cum yet.” He pulls your legs over his waist so that he could hit deeper. Your breath hitches from the penetration.

"T-there! A-again!" You beg. You wrap your arms around Leona’s shoulders to hold him close. Capturing your lips again, Leona sucked hard on them in order to bruise, his canines grazing them. His thumb jabbed against your clit, providing additional stimulation that ultimately threw you over the edge.

You come with a low whine, nails digging into Leona’s shoulders. Your clit pulsated, feeling like it was still vibrating. Tingles raced through veins, rocking your entire body.

"F-fuck, I'm close!" Leona pants.

Leona felt his own high reaching. His thrusts became less rhythmic and more sloppy. Low grunts and moans left his lips. The feeling of You tightening around his dick even more was enough to send him over the edge.

He comes with a low groan, pulling out at the last second, painting your stomach with his seed. His body rocks and he collapses on top of you, burrying his head into the crook of your neck.

There's silence between the two of your for a few moments as you both recover from your orgasms. Leona’s first to move, grabbing a tissue to wipe you down and check to make sure you’re not hurt. Other than the darkening hickies on your neck and chest (which he’s proud of), the fucked out bliss expression on your face says you’re otherwise content.

He tucks you into his chest, tail winding around yours. You relax against him, your hips aching slightly.

“Leo…”

“Hn? Go to sleep,” Leona muttered.

“But it’s really important.” You shift so that you’re facing him. “So please listen to me?”

He sighs. “Okay. I’m all ears.”

You crane your head up so that you’re able to press a soft kiss against his lips. Leona blinks somewhat in surprise. “I love you,” you say, before sinking again into his arms.

You feel him press a kiss against your temple, and he squeezes you closer to him. His chest rumbles, almost like a purring cat that’s content. “I love you too.”

[jukeboxsweethearttt]

OlderSugarDaddyBoyfriend!Rafe Headcannons💋

inspired by @starfxkr ‘s SugarDaddy!Rafe

song in mind

SFW

• He has 3 daughters and they’re just happy their dad and mom aren’t in that toxic ass marriage anymore but that’s the only reason they tolerate you being that much younger than their dad.

• His oldest daughter is 5 years older than you, His middle is the same age as you and his youngest is three years younger than you.

• He’s 52 while you’re 21 so you have a 31 year age gap;)

• I imagine you living in like New York or New Jersey and he met you on a business trip while he was still married to his wife.

• The two of you were messing around for 3 months before his wife filed for divorce (she was having a 4 year long affair with Rafe’s business partner but we’ll talk about her more later)

• The day before the two of you met your parents threatened to cut you off and make you get a job after you got into a fight at the club with a girl and they had to bail you out of jail.

• But luckily for you, you met Rafe and you’ll never have to work again;)

• Moves you into his house 4 months after his divorce is finalized (his youngest daughter still lives with him because she wouldn’t stay with her mom either way)

• The old ladies who thought they would have a chance with Rafe after the divorce despise you.

• His nicknames for you: Bunny,Minx,Princess and Your actual name he’s not big on nicknames

• Your nicknames for him: Daddy Or Old man no in between :)

NSFW

• You would think him being a old man would effect his stamina but hadn’t so much of gave him a handjob for years before their divorce so he uses all that pent up “aggression” and it matches your young hyper sexualness

• Never uses protection because you claim “he’s an old man with no more swimmers.” and you live by that until you end up pregnant… Twice and his daughters are lowkey pissed

• He’s so old and matured so I know he gives THE BEST head and doesn’t expect anything in return like the boys your age do

• He wasn’t a big fan of PDA when he was with his wife but he loves when you shove your tongue down his throat in public to make people uncomfortable

• Idk something is telling me he likesfeet like he loves missionary because he’s still an old man so he loves sticking your big toe in his mouth and sucking it while he gives you deep strokes.

• 9 inches , cut subtle curve to the left , peachy pink tip with a tan ish base, full this just has the perfect amount of girth bigger than any one you’ve been with younger than him

That’s all I can think of for now!! If you have any suggestions on what I should write about him plz send an ask!!💋💋💋

[yawnderu]

Captain's Wife - John Price & TF141 x Reader

work starting to feel like I do belong in the kitchen 💀so here's some Price domestic stuff to keep me going until Friday so I don't lose my mind.

Content: small drabbles, fluff, domestic!Price, vouyerism, John ''I share my wife'' Price, TF141 x reader.

I actually think about being Price's housewife quite a lot. Being a cute little thing he has waiting for him back at home, a domestic life for the first time ever, something he never even thought was possible.

He bought big house in the British countryside, just to make sure you're free from all the stress city life brings. Any hobbies you may have he fully supports and funds, giving you extra spending money on the side despite knowing you don't usually spend it, having all your needs and interests taken care of by him.

This man spoils you rotten without you even asking, having savings for years before he even met you and a good salary as a captain in the SAS. Anything you even glance at when you're out with him at the mall? Bought for you with no hesitation at all. Jewelry, clothes, lingerie; you don't lack any of those things when you're with him.

Any affection you miss while he's deployed is given to you once he's back, his fat cock filling you up in different positions, despite how tired he might be, he always has the energy to fuck his darling wife good. He always puts your pleasure first, making you cum with his fingers and tongue before he even thinks about putting his dick inside. His efforts don't come without rewards, of course, and it has become one of his favorite things to see you down on your knees, praising his thick cock and heavy falls, praising him.

Being a Captain comes with sharing many things with his boys- from gear, to his wife. The first time you're introduced to the boys, the thought of straying doesn't even cross your mind, fully loyal to your husband and simply happy to meet the boys he considers his family. It isn't until Price has you sitting on his lap with your legs wide open, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you in front of the younger men that the thought of having someone other than him hits your brain.

John doesn't miss the way your eyes linger on the younger men. Soap shamelessly has his dick out, stroking up and down slowly, basking in on the sight of his captain fingering your soaking cunt. Gaz is more subtle about it, though eventually he can't ignore his boner, pulling out the prettiest dick you've ever seen and stroking it with more enthusiasm than the others, free hand massaging his heavy balls, begging for release.

Ghost is the one who takes the longest to give into it, ignoring his painful boner being strained by his jeans up until John is fucking you. The sight of your attractive body bouncing on his captain's cock is too much for him, legs spreading wider on the couch to adjust his boner until his hand hesitantly starts to rub his length over his clothes, shamelessly thinking it's him the one fucking you.

And that fantasy becomes a reality soon enough, once you're fucked-out and your cunt is ready to take more, nice and wet for the men he trusts the most. He has rules for it, of course. They can't fuck you without a condom, anything you feel uncomfortable with is off limits, and if you show any signs of discomfort, they have to stop. Soap only whined about not being able to fuck you raw, earning him a look that got him to shut up immediately.

Gaz is a gentle lover despite how excited he was, eating your cunt out nice and slow, plump lips latching onto your clit while your hand gently pushes the back of his head closer, a teasing ''patience, love.'' escaping his lips as he lines up the tip of his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing in and giving you time to adjust to his thickness before he's fucking into you slowly, making sure every thrust hits deep inside you. He switches positions a few times, settling in for the one that makes you moan louder, hands holding onto your hips as he fucks into you from behind.

Johnny is more eager, more... youthful, just happy to be able to fuck you. He'd never admit it, but he's had his eye on you ever since he first met you, wishing he was as lucky as his captain. He eats you out for the longest, messily sucking and licking all over your cunt, lips latching onto your clit, tongue swirling over it, your moans encouraging him to go for longer even when his tongue is tired. He's on his knees in front of the bed, one of his hands busy jerking himself off and stopping right when he's about to cum just by tasting you. H's not enthusiastic about putting a condom on, though he quickly forgets about his annoyance once he's balls deep inside you, hands holding onto your waist as he fucks into you, fast and deep.

Ghost is the only one who doesn't eat you out yet, being slightly uncomfortable about the whole thing and about being watched. John knows Ghost ever since he was Simon, so he tells the boys to go clean up while he too leaves the room, making sure to be within earshot in case anything happens, despite knowing he can trust Simon with his life. He makes up for it by fingering your cunt, long digits sinking into it slowly, brown eyes fully focusing on your expression to make sure you're enjoying every second of it. It takes a while before he fucks you, condom rolling down his thick length and making sure you're all nice and wet before hesitantly pushing in, holding you in a nice missionary while he thrusts in and out, his massive body caging you in and making you feel safe. The mask goes up halfway, giving you sloppy, inexperienced kisses as a reward for taking him so well. Simon is a talker when he's close, face seeking shelter into the crook of your neck as he praises you for being so good for him, for taking his cock so well and making him feel good.

Once the boys are gone, Price runs a bath for you, asking you if you enjoyed yourself and if you'd be interested on doing that again in the future. He presses gentle kisses to your forehead, warm hands washing your body with love and care, allowing you to fall asleep in his arms even when you're in the bathtub. He dries your body and puts you to bed after changing the sheets, a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

[mattyriddlesbitch]

English is not my first language, so I apologize if this request looks confuse :(

but can you do mean!mattheo × shy!reader and she's soooo needy and horny, but doesn't say nothing, but matty realizes it and make her tell him EVERY LITTLE THING that she wants him to do, and she's so embarrassed and he's just pouting and saying "if you don't tell me what you need i can't do anything, angel" and she's just buring her face in his neck and saying "please" but he doesn't do nothing until she says graphically what she wants. and he's so mean, edging her with his mouth and fingers (maybe some toys if u want) until shes crying, and then he just overstimulate her as fuck!!! (but he also doesn't forget to praise his girl for doing so well!!!!)

i know this is super specific, but my mind is lost in dirty thoughts, I'm sorryyyyy 😔

btw, can i be -🌙 anon?

Yes! You can be 🌙 anon! I hope this works for you!

Guide Me

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: Oral(female receiving), fingering, cussing, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation.

18+ Minors DNI!

You had been feeling so needy and desperate all day. Especially now as you cuddle with Mattheo in his bed, surrounded by his scent and warmth and him. You needed him so badly, but were too embarrassed to say anything. You never liked being vulgar about what you want. Even finding it hard to initiate sex. 

Mattheo could tell by your subtle shifting and the way you were clinging to him as you cuddled. But he wanted you to say it. He wanted you to tell him what you wanted.

“You okay, princess?” He asked as you shifted around again for the umpteenth time.

“Yeah.” You said softly, scooting slightly closer, as if that was even possible.

“You’re moving around a lot, are you uncomfortable? Do you need something?” He asked, still feigning ignorance to your horniness.

“No.” You spoke so quietly, he almost didn’t hear it.

“You sure, darling?” He moved your hair so he could see your face better. “Because you just have to say the word, and I’ll help you out, whatever you need.” 

You glanced up at him before looking back down, letting a deep breath out as you debated on saying anything or not. “I need you.” You kept that quiet tone, embarrassed about saying it outloud.

“What do you need from me?” He asked, tilting your head up to look at him.

You realized his little game now, blushing at having to tell him more. “You know what I need.” You say, moving to bury your head in his neck.

“I don’t. You gotta use your words, angel.”

“Please.” You say quietly into his neck.

“Begging me won’t help if I don’t know what you want.” He was teasing you and you hated it. He wanted you to talk dirty to him, tell him everything you wanted.

You groaned softly, not moving away from his neck. “I need you in me, please.”

“How so? You want my mouth, my fingers, my cock? Maybe your little dildo would suffice if you don’t wanna use your words.”

You pulled back to look at him now. “I would like your mouth and fingers please.”

He smiled at you now. “Was that so hard, sweetheart?” He said as he pushed you gently onto your back. He helped you out of your clothes, keeping his touch soft. “Guide me through it, baby. I like hearing you talk dirty.” He settled between your legs, placing soft kisses to your thighs.

“Use your tongue on me, please.” You said softly, still embarrassed, but the way he was looking at you so eagerly helped a little.

He listened and started licking at your pussy, groaning at the taste. You moaned, tangling a hand in his hair. “Like this, princess?” He asked as he looked up at you.

“Just like that, yes.” You nod, throwing your head back.

He continued and you were starting to feel like you needed more, but he wasn’t giving anymore than the licks.

“Need more, Matty. Please.” You begged as you looked back at him.

“What else do you want? You gotta tell me.” He said with a smirk, loving your reaction.

“Your fingers. I need them in me.”

“That’s my girl. Good job.” He said as he pushed his fingers in you, going back to licking at your clit.

You were moaning and cursing at the pleasure, trying to keep your head up to watch him. He was a fucking expert with his mouth and fingers and had your orgasm building quickly.

“Fuck, Matty, I’m so close.” You moaned, throwing your head back again.

He pulled his fingers out and pulled back slightly. You whined, feeling your orgasm get pulled away from you.

“What the fuck?” You asked as you looked back at him.

“I told you to guide me, you didn’t say anything about letting you cum.” He smiled mischievously

“Then make me cum.” You frowned at him.

“How?” He asked with that stupid smile.

That one word would have made you ready to kill him if you weren’t so fucking horny. “The same thing, fingers and mouth.”

“No ‘please’ this time?” He teased.

“Please.” You whined.

He complied and pushed his fingers back into you, bringing his mouth back to your clit. This man drove you insane, but damn, if he wasn’t so fucking good at this. He had you moaning and bucking into his face within seconds, that orgasm that was previously building coming back again.

“Don’t stop, please, don’t fucking stop.” You moaned, holding onto his hair tightly.

He groaned as he kept going, satisfied he got you to talk again.

You came on his fingers and tongue in mere moments, crying out his name as he helped you ride it out. He wasn’t letting up, though. He kept going and made you shake and cry again.

“Mattheo, please.” You cried.

He ignored you, still going. You could feel the tears building as you tried closing your legs on his head. He just used his free hand to push them back open, never letting up. You were crying and your body couldn’t decide if it should buck into his face for more pleasure, or back away to get a break.

“Matty.” You whined his name again.

Again, though, he ignored it, ignoring your pleas. In fact, it felt like he was going faster, harder, deeper. He ripped another orgasm from you, making you scream his name as your body shook almost violently.

And again, he didn’t let up, continuing his assault on your pussy.

“Stop. Please. I can’t” You tried closing your legs on his head, and he backed off, removing his fingers from you before putting them in his mouth to clean them off.

“Look at you. You’re learning how to use your words.” He smiled before leaning down to kiss you.

You both moaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around him as his roamed your body.

“Now, how about I get to guide you with my words?” He smiled at you.

[decaffeinatedcandycane]

Random headcanons: You set their wallpaper of a spicy picture of you

Featuring: Task force 141

Warnings: suggestive, NSFW

Captain John Price:

He rarely unlocks his phone during the day, so you assume it is safe to set his wallpaper to you wearing nothing but his hat, sitting on the bed, legs spread, hands tied in the front with a silky ribbon and one of his cigars between your lips.

You did not account for the fact that sometimes Price shows memes to his team or fact checks stuff in front of others, so you can imagine the shock on his face when he unlocked his phone to show Soap something.

Soap: Sir? Is this-

Price: Yes, it is

The conversation ended there, with the Scotsman leaving the room in a subtle, yet fast manner, trying to hide the forming buldge from his captain, who, on his side noticed everything, but decided not to comment on it, in order not to make the situation more uncomfortable than it already was.

Yes, Soap avoided Price for the entire day and they have never spoke about the incident again. Even though the captain notices his Sergent hungrily eyeing you from time to time, which makes his mind wonder of certain possibilities. (If you are into it)

As for you, you did get your punishment, after you spent 20 minutes laughing at your husband story.

Y/N: Poor Soap

Price: What about me? I had to avoid unlocking my phone all day.

Y/N: You never unlock your phone.

Price: There was not a reason for it, luv.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

This man is phone rotting, whenever he is away from others and has some free time. Whether it is Reddit, Tiktok, or texting you - obsessively, he is on his phone - period.

For his picture you wear a sexy black lingerie, barely covering you and his balaclava. You are sitting on the sofa, with your elbows on your knees, leaning into the front camera, his dog tags hanging from your neck.

Simon goes feral.

He is immediately finding a quiet place from where he can call you and jerk off, while staring at your picture.

He will beg you to praise him, order him around and guide him in what to do and you can say anything - and I mean, anything.

This man is a slut for you. He is a huge switch. When he turns submissive he is completely at your mercy. Just, please, tell this man what to do and how you want him to do it.

Bonus points if you video chat and touch yourself, while edging him. He will try to hold himself back, but if you push him enough, he will cum within minutes.

This is how much power you have over him. Use it wisely.

And yes, Simon will absolutely fuck you stupid the moment he gets home. And will insist on taking pictures together, so he can keep something while on deployment.

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

He will open his phone in front of Ghost and get lost, staring at the photo of you, hand mindlessly grabbing Simon's tight.

For his picture, you are laying face on the bed, back arched, wearing nothing but tight blue panties with the scottish flag on them. Side boob is slightly showing.

Soap doesn't even register Simon or where his hand is, who is shifting from side to side, but not peeling his eyes off of you, nor removing Soap's hand from his tight.

When the Scottsman finally snap from his trance, he is texting you every spicy thing he can think of and sending you pictures of his, and Simon's buldges with the caprion:

"Look what you did, darling. LT wants to stop for some dinner tonight, now too. Make sure to recreate the picture once we get home. We are gonna put some English in you too."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Another chronic phone user. Gaz is on his phone 23/19. He is obsessed with animal videos and staring at ya'll pictures. Editing and candid photo stuff is his drug.

You warn him in advance that you will send him something, as he has the habit of showing off his editing skills*ahem* your cutesy couple photos *ahem* to either Price, or Laswell.

The last thing you want is to flash his superiors.

So, you tell him to unlock his phone at a specific time and make sure he is alone.

The picture for him is you wearing his sunglasses, naked, on the balcony. You are sat on a chair, legs crossed. The picture is taken at sunrise, right when the sun is softly highlighting your chest.

Somehow Gaz didn't time this right, he expected a attachment, not a wallpaper - in his defense, and he opened his phone in the middle of a briefing.

The sergeant dropped his phone on the ground while trying to catch it, creating the (trying to hold a hot stone effect). Price shot him a questioning look, but kept talking, pretending not to notice how Gaz picked his phone face down and put it in his pocket.

For the entire briefing Gaz couldn't focus on anything but your picture. He tried so hard, not to get a boner, but knowing you took the said photograph while he was sleeping, maybe 15 minutes before he got up for work - got him wild.

He went radio silent the entire day and when he got home, he didn't bother talking, or greeting you - Gaz just lifted you up from the couch and smashed his lips into yours.

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

reactions of crew members seeing hickeys on your neck? who gave you the hickeys doesnt matter just in general you know

THE CREW MEMBERS REACTION TO SEEING HICKEYS ON READER;

Curly

- He doesn't really notice them at first tbh,it's when he is speaking to you face to face, that's when he notices the red marks on your neck.

- gets quiet, really quiet. and just looks at you.

- "y/n I hope you realise that there are some metrics of rules and ethics which are to be followed on the tulpar,i have no right to divulge in your personal life,but please try to keep it professional,and hey if there's anything bothering you,you can always come to me".

- but the reality couldn't be any more different,he is jealous as fuckk. He just asks you to stop doing whatever you're doing with someone else, rather than him,in a not so subtle manner.

Jimmy

- this horn dog noticed immediately, and kept on staring at the marks until it made you uncomfortable.

- "wow. I guess someone couldn't keep it in his pants after seeing you,well, can't blame him". And then smirks.

- continuosly pokes you about who it is from. "What's the shame in atleast telling me? C'mon who was it? Curly? Swansea? Hell was it Daisuke?"

- is super annoyed that someone before him, already managed to bag you. He absolutely has to know who's the guy who has the hots for you to make sure he can keep them away.

Swansea

- he's wayy to underpaid,and overage to give a fuck. He's had his fun during his time.

- "kids these days,*sigh*".

- does notice that the hickeys actually look...so good on you,it makes you look sexier.

- "i can't say I blame the guy who marked you as his,hell i would've done the same, considering the fact that you're such a pretty little thing,not my style but hell am I jealous!".

- doesn't really press on after that. He's got his wife at home. ( Lmfao )

Daisuke

- HE IS LIVID. HE IS GOING CRAZY.

- "WHATTT Y/NNNNN WHO DID THISSSSSS????".

- is incredibly jealous and wouldn't even try to hide it.

- "hey can I give you some?". *Wink*

- after that day,he practically clings on to you to prevent that from happening again lol.

Anya

- sees it, doesn't question anything.

- just hopes that it's not from jimmy.

[hoe4hotchner]

heyy can you write about hotch being protective of oblivious reader when the officer of the local police they’re working at is hitting on her and being a little too stubborn and when she finally catch on one time when she had been left to work on the case at the station with whoever you want and the officer get them alone and she get uncomfortable and hotch show up 🙏🏽 you can make it gn thank you if you write it !!

Boundaries | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 0.7k | CW: harassment

A/N: This was so fun to write despite the stupid officer harassing r. I would like to kick his head in ;)

You were sitting at a desk, sifting through files when Officer Daniels approached you again. He’d been lingering around your workspace for days, offering to “help” and making casual comments you didn’t quite catch onto. You just assumed he was trying to be friendly.

“Need any help with that?” He leaned on the desk, his voice smooth as he looked down at you with a grin that made your stomach twist a little. You glanced up, offering him a polite smile.

“No, thank you. I’ve got it under control.” You refocused on the file in front of you, missing the way his eyes lingered on you.

Hotch had been observing from across the room narrowed his eyes. He had noticed Daniels’ behavior from the start, and it irked him. You were oblivious to it, brushing off the officer’s attempts, but Hotch saw it for what it was: an overstepping of boundaries - of your boundaries. His jaw tightened as he watched the officer lean in closer to you.

He approached then, clearing his throat. Daniels straightened, but the smug smile never left his face.

“Agent, I need you to come with Dr. Reid and me to the crime scene,” Hotch said, his voice calm but firm, his gaze never leaving officer Daniels. You nodded, gathering the files and following him out, completely unaware of the subtle tension between the two men.

Over the next couple of days, Daniels' advances didn’t slow down, but you remained too focused on the case to realize what was going on. Hotch, however, became more protective, sticking close by whenever Daniels was in the vicinity. You didn’t question it, but you noticed he seemed more on edge than usual.

One afternoon, Hotch left you at the station to work with Morgan while he followed a lead. Officer Daniels took the opportunity to corner you while you were alone in a small office near the back of the station.

“You’ve been working hard. How about I take you out for dinner later? You could use a break,” Daniels suggested, his tone made you uncomfortable. His body blocking the exit, and suddenly, you realized what had been happening all this time. The flirtatious comments, the lingering touches - it all clicked, and a knot of anxiety formed in your chest.

You swallowed hard, trying to remain polite. “Uh, no, thank you. I’m not really interested.”

“Oh, come on,” Daniels pressed, stepping closer, his smile widening. “You’ve been here for days. I’ve been nothing but nice. You owe me at least a drink.”

Your heart raced, and you backed up instinctively, your eyes darting to the door. “I don’t owe you anything,” you said, your voice shaky now. Panic was starting to creep in, but just as Daniels took another step closer, the door swung open with a force that made it slam against the wall.

Hotch stood in the doorway, his eyes locking onto Daniels. His expression was deadly calm, but the tension radiating from him was palpable.

“Step away from her,” Hotch ordered his voice low a low growl. Daniels immediately froze, the smugness draining from his face as Hotch advanced into the room.

Daniels hesitated, clearly debating whether to argue, but one look at Hotch’s cold, unwavering stare made him rethink it. He stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender. “I was just talking to her, no harm in that.”

“There is when it’s unwelcome,” Hotch snapped, his gaze never leaving Daniels. “You’re done here. Get out.”

Daniels shot you one last glance before leaving the room, muttering something under his breath as he passed Hotch. The door clicked shut, and the silence that followed was thick with the remnants of tension.

Hotch turned to you, his expression softening as he stepped closer. “Are you okay?” His voice was gentle now, his hand reaching out to rest on your arm.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just… I didn’t realize until just now what he was doing.” You shook your head, feeling foolish for not catching on sooner.

“It’s not your fault,” Hotch said, his voice firm but reassuring. “Some people take advantage of kindness. I should’ve intervened sooner.”

You met his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through you at the concern in his eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered, grateful for his presence. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up.”

Hotch gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You never have to worry about that. I’ll always be here.”

With that, he led you out of the small office, his hand resting protectively on the small of your back as you walked down the hall, a sense of safety settling over you that you hadn’t felt before.

[lucysarah-c]

Mounting Spring Ch. 1.

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21. Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.) Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it. From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another.

MASTERLIST TO ALL THE OTHER PARTS.

Link to AO3 in case you prefer to read it there.

The papers were passed around the Military board members, each set handed off in tense silence. The room’s air had cooled quickly as the sun dipped below the horizon, making Levi’s coat, almost too heavy to bear earlier, feel suddenly necessary. The chill seeped through the old walls, hinting that a bit of heating might soon be in order. 

With methodical precision, Levi slammed the stack of reports against the wooden table to align them perfectly, every edge sharp and in place. He moved aside the sticky notes he’d scribbled on hours before, crossing off the last item on his to-do list with finality. Job done for the day— 

“Well, that’s it,” he muttered, eager to leave the stale room behind. 

A pointed clearing of someone’s throat halted him, making him glance up slowly. Levi’s senses flared; he wasn’t done after all. The tension thickened, and the air shifted to something more ominous. His gaze travelled around the table, landing on each board member’s face. Some looked uncomfortable, others entertained, as if they’d been anticipating this moment. Hange, seated beside him despite their role as Commander now, avoided his eye, their head lowered in apparent resignation. Recent meetings had seen the appearance of new, vaguely unsettling faces, like Kiyomi's, who now looked across the table with a subtle smile. 

“Captain,” Zackly’s voice rasped as he cleared his throat yet again. 

“The day’s agenda is finished,” Levi stated, irritation biting at his words. The official telegram had detailed the topics to be discussed, all of which they’d already addressed. Anything beyond that, he knew, was meant to be cleared with the entire board beforehand. 

“This was a last-minute matter,” a Military Police officer interjected, though the smirk twitching at his lips betrayed more amusement than urgency. 

“Captain,” Zackly called again, knitting his fingers together. “You know we’ve always valued your dedication to Paradis.” 

The pause was rehearsed, the words strangely formal, making Levi’s eyes narrow. “What the hell is going on?” cutting through the man’s attempt at civility. 

“Let the Commander finish,” Kiyomi insisted, her voice smooth and elegant, though tinged with a superiority that grated on him. 

“We wouldn’t have managed to retake Wall Maria without your bravery—” 

“A lot of people sacrificed themselves for that,” Levi replied sharply, cutting off the praise that felt, at best, patronizing. “Including the previous Commander, Erwin. No need to thank me.” 

“Nevertheless,” Zackly forged on, tiring of the interruptions, “without your skill, all those sacrifices might have been in vain. Not only did you dare to fight for Eren’s retrieval from the Female Titan and against the former tyrannical regime, but—” 

“It wasn’t just me. My squad and the brat over there were in it too.” 

The tone of the conversation was growing increasingly uneasy, the excessive praise no longer just annoying him but setting off alarms. 

“Quite right. You and Mikasa were essential in humanity’s progress,” Kiyomi added, eyeing Levi with a calculating gaze. As her look shifted back to Zackly, Levi’s own attention followed. 

“What we mean to say is… even if Paradis positions itself favourably in the new world, more capable individuals like you and Mikasa would be ideal assets for our success.” Zackly straightened in his chair, clearing his throat for the third time, making Levi wonder if the man needed water—or to finally give up smoking like a chimney. “Have you ever considered marriage, Captain?” 

The question hit him like a bucket of ice water. It was so absurd Levi could only scoff. “What?” 

“How old are you now?” Zackly continued, feigning casual curiosity. “Thirty-three? Thirty-four? A prime age, I’m sure. And for a high-breed alpha like you—” 

Behind him, low chuckles began to echo from the MPs, each one making Levi’s grip on the chair’s arm tighten. 

‘This is a trap.’ 

“Whatever it is you’re implying, I I suggest you rethink it,” Levi spat, the weight of their words starting to settle. 

“Let’s be frank,” Kiyomi leaned forward, hands placed firmly on the table. “Captain, we once thought the Ackermans extinct, only to discover Paradis has not one but two. Even Zeke couldn’t deny that meeting you at Shiganshina was... less than pleasant.” 

“Of course,” Levi replied dryly. “I beat that monkey’s ass.” 

“Exactly.” The dark-haired woman showed no amusement, her voice all business. “To the point, then: we intend to provide you with a suitable wife to ensure that you bless this island with as many Ackermans as she’s capable of bearing.” 

Levi shot to his feet. “You must be out of your damned mind if you think I’d agree to this. I’m not here to be used as a breeding tool.” 

“Oh, but you wouldn’t be the one doing the birthing,” an MP remarked with a smirk as the rest of the board broke their facades, amusement flashing in their eyes. All but Hange, who looked as if they might vanish into their seat. 

“You’re insane,” Levi snarled, preparing to leave, feeling insulted to his core. “You can use Historia as your political pawn as much as you want, but I’m not some 17-year-old girl at your disposal—” 

“Think of it as a service to your country,” Zackly replied coolly. 

“I serve this island every damned day,” Levi snapped, baring his teeth. With a sharp slap, he pressed his papers against the table and strode toward the door, signaling his utter rejection of the idea. 

“If you won’t consider it…” Kiyomi's calm, piercing voice halted him at the door, the threat clear. “Then we’ll turn to the only other Ackerman left.” 

Levi stilled, staring at the golden knob in his hand, fury boiling in his veins. He wasn’t about to fall for this. 

“Mikasa is too valuable to be reduced to a broodmare.” 

“She’s a girl of duty,” Kiyomi replied, a note of satisfaction in her voice. “Something you seem to lack. And she’s an alpha. I’m certain she could bear at least one healthy child before returning to the battlefield.” 

Levi clicked his tongue, pushing open the door with disdain. ‘Who the hell do they think I am?’ Hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat, he stormed down the royal city’s military headquarters hallways, curses slipping from his lips. The whole idea was absurd; they’d lost their minds if they thought he’d even consider it. 

As Levi stormed down the dim corridor, every step sharp and swift, he couldn’t shake the rancor rising within him. The brazenness of it all, to drag him into their twisted ambitions with such flippant disregard for his will—and then to threaten Mikasa. The audacity alone made his fists clench. 

He barely noticed Hange keeping pace with him until their arm was outstretched, catching him by the shoulder. 

“Levi,” Hange began softly. Their usual spark was subdued, gaze serious, and voice almost apologetic. “I know you’re furious. I knew this would be hell to hear, but I didn’t know how else to—” 

“Save it.” Levi shrugged their hand off, glowering. “You knew, didn’t you? That they were going to bring this shit up?” 

Hange hissed, as if asking them to confessed was almost painful. “Yes… I knew.” 

Levi gritted his teeth, eyes dark with betrayal. “You agreed to this?” Both of them whispering on the empty cold halls of the building.  

“I… didn’t agree,” Hange answered carefully. “But I was there when the discussion happened. Look, Zackly and the others—” Hange hesitated, running a hand through their hair. “They’re dead set on this idea. They think they’re planning for a stronger Paradis, and if they think that means Ackerman bloodlines—” 

“Save the speech.” Levi’s tone was sharp. “They can be dead set on whatever they please, but I'd like to see them drag the entire MP battalion if they want to force me into this.” 

The past year had hardly been easy on either of them, especially Hange with their new title as Commander. Levi was well aware of this—yet the sense of betrayal cut deep. “For fuck’s sake, Hange, you could’ve warned me.” 

A tense silence hung between them, until Hange finally sighed and adjusted their glasses, pressing on the bridge of their nose. “You think I had a say in this? Kiyomi's paying for the entire coastal expansion and the railway. She thought it was a decent idea, and with her money backing it, she’s got the final word on everything.” 

Levi clicked his tongue, crossing his arms in exasperation. “Those bastards in the upper ranks are just itching to get on my last nerve since we changed the policies.” 

“Look, I know it sounds—insane. But maybe… if we don’t try to protect the future of the island, there won’t be one. And if there’s a way to keep the Ackerman bloodline alive, maybe there’s value in that…” 

“Don’t give me that bloodline nonsense.” Levi’s tone was ice-cold, his gaze sharp. “This is some harebrained scheme they’ve cooked up. And let me guess: it reeks of Zeke. That bearded bastard’s across the ocean, and he’s still screwing with my life.” 

Hange pressed their lips together, saying nothing. The silence was confirmation enough. 

“That son of a bitch,” Levi cursed under his breath. “He’s the one with royal blood, not me.” 

Hange’s lips twitched in something close to sympathy. 

“Well, since you two are such good friends these days, feel free to let him know he can kiss my ass.” 

“Levi…” Hange sighed, not because they disagreed but because Levi’s sense of betrayal cut both ways. They were the last two left of the original veterans—family in all but name. It wasn’t just an argument; it felt like a wound between them. 

Convincing Levi? Impossible. But convincing her? That possibility hung in the air, lingering like a storm on the horizon. Levi paced with conviction at first, then with dread. They both knew it, and, worse, Zeke likely knew it too. Mikasa had just turned seventeen, still almost a child, recently visited by someone claiming kinship with her clan. Levi couldn’t care less about all the ancestral politics, but he was all too aware of how they worked. 

“You can choose whoever you wish for the father,” they had told her, as if it was some generous offer. And, step by step, he watched Mikasa’s face transform from disgust to something akin to acceptance. Perhaps it was because she, too, held a certain pedigree; perhaps she felt duty-bound. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care what methods they used to sway her. 

‘She’s smarter than that,’ he tried to tell himself. 

But then he overheard Historia, almost childishly enthusiastic, whispering to Mikasa, “See? I told you—we’re girls with responsibilities.” The blood drained from his face. If they’d managed to convince Historia, to make her some kind of pawn in their twisted ambitions, what was stopping them from pulling Mikasa down the same path? 

‘It’s disgusting,’ he thought bitterly. ‘Maybe this is how those classist bastards operate. They talk little girls into this like they’re just trading dolls for something more ‘exciting.’’ 

That night, back in his office, Levi was a restless storm, pacing the room with his suit jacket hanging loose, fingers curled around his glass of whiskey, his movements sharp and frustrated. The glow of his cigarette flared in the dark room as he took a deep drag, gritting his teeth. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

Slouched in his chair, forearm draped over his eyes, his mind circled back to Mikasa’s hesitant, almost innocent blush—her teenage imagination painting a faint, rosy tint over whatever twisted future she thought she might face. And in his mind, as if staring him down, were Eren’s haunted eyes, that deadened look of someone who already knew more than he could say. Maybe the brat already knew Levi wouldn’t let it happen. 

“She’s a damn kid,” he muttered. The thought of Mikasa shouldering this burden felt like a betrayal of his own values. 

Though technically, she was not much younger than many girls who’d borne children before. But this felt different, disturbing— He let out a humourless chuckle, as a man that waits for getting hang. “Those bastards knew… I wouldn’t let them ruin her life like that.” 

And like a cursed prophecy that tightened its grip the more one tried to escape it, Levi found himself back in that same damned office, slouched in his chair as if seated at a poker table. Bargaining his future. 

Levi sat stiffly across from the military board, his expression a blend of frustration and disgust as they spoke. Zackly lounged in his chair, lazily smoking as the other officials presented folders adorned with detailed painted portraits, lists of family properties, and who knows what else. As they laid the offers on the table, a random thought clouded Levi’s mind: It feels like searching for a button that matches at the notions store. 

He was reminded of long strips of fabric with various buttons sewn onto them, each one a potential fit. “Many of the noble families are eager to show their loyalty to the new government,” one officer stated with a practiced calmness. “Some have offered up alliances in exchange for the return of their territories and titles. This includes a number of unclaimed young omegas. You’ll have ample choices.” 

Levi’s jaw clenched. He knew they expected him to appear grateful for the options lined up before him, as if he were selecting a new weapon. Instead, he leaned back, crossing his arms tightly. “I’ll be imposing some conditions.” 

They paused, exchanging glances. “Naturally, Captain,” one of the men replied, steepling his fingers. 

“No fancy bullshit,” Levi declared. “The wedding will be plain. Just a civil ceremony. I have no intention of making a spectacle out of this.” 

The room fell silent, the officers exchanging looks that spoke volumes. One of them cleared his throat, hesitating before responding. “Captain, you should consider—” 

“I’m not considering anything,” Levi interrupted, his tone sharper than before. “This is a plain arrangement, and it will remain exactly that. I don’t need fanfare or ceremonies—just a quiet signing of papers.” 

The officers shifted uncomfortably, their discomfort palpable as they struggled to reconcile Levi’s cold practicality with their expectations. “Think of the girl. Many young omegas dream of their wedding day, waiting for it their whole lives. It’s—” a female alpha soldier attempted to be the voice of reason, but Levi was clearly listening to none of it. 

“No buts,” Levi said, his patience wearing thin. “If I’m going to go through with this ridiculous arrangement, it will be on my terms. I’m not dragging this girl through some overblown ceremony when neither of us wants to be there.” 

With a loud sigh, Levi lifted himself slightly from his seat to grab the portfolios. He barely looked at them, frowning deeply. “Don’t you have pictures where they look— I don’t know—human?” he spat out sarcastically, noting how overly produced their painted portraits appeared. 

“That’s what’s in fashion,” one officer muttered defensively. 

Groaning in disinterest, Levi rolled his eyes. “Nobles and their weird tastes.” But as he turned the next page to examine the descriptions, it was as if the world had tilted off its axis. “Sixteen,” he muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. He looked up, venom lacing his words. “You’re offering me sixteen-year-old girls? Girls who could be my damn daughters?” 

“It’s common, you know—” 

“I don’t care what’s common. Twenty-five,” Levi interjected. “At least twenty-five. I’m not getting tied to a child.” 

“Come on,” an exhausted soldier exclaimed, “some are seventeen, eighteen—” 

“Twenty-five,” Levi snapped, his eyes blazing. “I’m not interested in any of this unless you bring me someone who isn’t still in their childhood.” 

“Be realistic,” Zackly finally spoke up, looking weary and disinterested. “How many omegas do you know that aren’t claimed by twenty-five?” 

“Fuck if I know; that’s your job to find out, not mine.” Levi’s anger flared, echoing in the sterile room. “Weren’t you the one telling me to think of the girl? Don’t you think of her?” 

“Why? Are you planning on hurting her?” Zackly questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“Fuck no.” 

“Then I’m not concerned. Choose one and stop being a pain in the ass.” 

It was clear they were not going to reach any middle ground like this. Amid the hastily scribbled notes, he noticed a name: Y/N, age twenty-one. He pointed decisively at the line, cutting through the cacophony of voices. “That one.” 

There was no picture, no description—nothing. Perhaps it should have raised suspicions, but Levi was too tired for this cheap drama. 

“Why her?” one member scoffed, glancing at the paper. “We have better offers on the table.” 

Levi didn’t hesitate. “She’s the oldest.” He placed both hands on the table, pushing himself upward. He had made up his mind the night before; he just needed this to be over. Striding toward the door, he exited without allowing anyone to stop him. As he walked out of the conference room, he could hear the murmurs behind him. 

As the door shut firmly, one of the cadets held the papers against his chest, confusion written all over his face. Slowly, he turned to the higher-ranking officer. “Shouldn’t we tell him that she’s scheduled to marry this weekend to her childhood fiancé?” 

Zackly chuckled, flicking the ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray. Between coughs, he said, “Oh well, he can find out from her once they’re both married. It’s no longer my problem.” 

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