#but I am CERTAIN that eventually he'd be like

[skay-ali]

Older sister program

a bit of fluff and eventually yandere from other characters It is just a protogo or attempted draft

"It was a bit childish."

"And you're a... a child..."

"Wow, you've got no answer," he sounded arrogant.

Ahhh, it's only a few months, just a few months, and you'll be punished.

Let's start with your story and how you ended up being a sisterly figure and guide to a troubled child.

Since you were 12, you began your independent and rebellious life against adults, rules, and society. You considered yourself an anarchist.

You didn't let anyone walk all over you; you were always on the defensive, snapping at anyone who messed with you.

Your beloved family isn't spared... it's not like they had a great relationship; your father and brothers were always busy with their own lives.

But friction was common, between dad's favorites and his only disappointment, namely you.

"You're nothing but a disappointment to the family."

"Well, at least I'm not dad's little robot, with no life or thoughts of my own."

"You're very childish."

"Thank you. They'd rather enjoy themselves than grow old and bitter."

"You're only bringing shame on the family with your behavior."

"Oh, Dad, I think you're doing well enough."

Seriously, sometimes you thought about stopping, about being a good girl, but you couldn't help but open your mouth and protest.

But in your defense, that might not have mattered in your family. Now that you were hated, they remembered you... that's better than being forgotten.

Besides, it's not as if society deserved your respect.

You hated everyone in your city. There were the wretched, the victims, the innocent, the scavengers who took advantage of any opportunity to kill someone; those who operated in the shadows; those who scrounged for leftovers, pretending to have power; and finally, the kings, who were at the top and had the right to kill whoever they wanted, just for fun.

Oh, and not to mention the heroes.

"That's why I think you should create a comic about corrupted heroes."

"Yeah, I don't think that would be well received."

"Boo, chicken, it's a wasted idea and it would be a hit."

"Sorry, but I don't think it is."

"I'm giving you an idea to take you to the top, friend, but I see that... maybe it's not your thing." With your arms crossed, you began to check your nails. It was more interesting than seeing the man a few years older than you sitting at a booth at the convention.

That was your belief, one that was often frowned upon and judged.

After all, who wants to see another version of their beloved heroes?

And about the comic book artist, the one who had a certain charm, disappeared for a while and didn't produce many works anymore, so you assume his career is over.

Well, it turns out that during your time as a university student, away from home, away from your city, with a new kind of pretentious people with their own principles, one must be careful, even if it's just to defend oneself.

You hit an idiot you shouldn't have, even if it was just to try to defend yourself.

Jail was an option, but apparently the lawyer who got you Alfred didn't like it; according to him, he'd been paid to get you off without a stain on your record. The plump, elderly man, a realistic version of Porky Pig, defended you until he got you community service.

Fawcett City, a big city, with little crime unlike other places.

You thought it was a great place.

Well, now you were on your weekend, a perfect Saturday morning for doing nothing, trapped in a boring building, receiving training for your new unpaid job.

Taking care of a homeless child and making him forget and guiding him from a potentially bad life to a decent one.

Wow, if that had existed in your city, maybe you wouldn't have ended up so badly, you recognized it.

"So you were my new... ah sister," the boy said doubtfully.

"Yeah, I guess I am," you said, feigning encouragement. Ahh, it would be a very long year.

You started with a boy with a surly personality, most of the time, and he was very serious and quiet.

Oh, he was a mini-you, like when you were little.

So you tried, of course, when you weren't tired of life, with your old woman's body.

You took him to many fun places, you talked to him, although many times it was just you.

You gave him many life lessons and advice, which he probably never paid attention to.

But his few words and occasional smiles were enough for you.

"Yeah, well, I have to be with you until it's 6." You looked at him and his friends.

"But it's enough for me to watch you have fun and make sure you don't die," you said disdainfully before looking back at your phone.

"Oh, here, you're going to have fun with your friends." You threw him some bills.

The boy gladly took them and smiled before showing his friends and running off.

"Take care, Billy, and don't get into trouble," you greeted encouragingly as he walked away.

"Kids grow up so fast," you commented to the women standing next to you; they were probably babysitters.

It was all calm; babysitting wasn't so bad after all.

You walked through the park with a soda bottle, looking for the boy. Damn, they're easy to lose, you should have put a tracker on him.

But voices and screams alerted you.

You approached the source, finding a group of older children bothering your son and his friends.

You leaned against a tree, waiting to see what would happen. They would surely defend themselves; it was normal; all the children in your city did that.

But this wasn't the same city where you formed your defensive, rebellious, and strong character. No, this was a peaceful city, full of light and happy people.

You approached carefully and grabbed the boy who seemed to be the leader of everyone.

"Am I interrupting something?" you smiled friendly.

"Yes, you are, idiot, so go away," the teenager replied, trying to escape your grasp.

"This isn't your business," his companions followed.

You looked over at your new "brother."

You saw him a little beaten up and sitting on the floor. His friend was in worse shape.

"You're wrong, brat," you shook him harshly.

"If it's any of my business, you're messing with my brother and his friend." You left your friendly voice behind and changed it to a more threatening one, still maintaining a smile.

"Hey, leave me alone or you'll regret it," the boy threatened.

"Oh, I don't think so. You were hoping you'd get what you deserved." You pushed him to the floor with moderate force. His friends tried to help him, but with both of your free hands, you grabbed the back of his clothes.

"Go ahead, kids, hit him back."

You had all eyes on you because of your words.

"What? I firmly believe in an eye for an eye."

The two children, barely recovering from their bullies' ambush, just stood up and stared at you.

You were a tall figure in their eyes; now with your new actions, not one full of brilliance, but rather dark and fearsome.

"It's not right," Billy decided to speak out, despite his fear of confronting you and not following your orders.

"Ahhh, but he hurt you," you said, bewildered.

"Yes, but it's not right. We'll only make things worse."

You looked at him calmly.

You sighed tiredly. Children are sometimes wild, sometimes compassionate.

You forcefully threw the other teenagers to the wind.

"Okay, you guys are the ones who're in charge." You raised your hands in surrender.

"You better remember that. Next time I won't hold back," you threatened the young people lying on the floor.

"Let's get out of here before we get into trouble," you called to the children, taking another sip of your soda that was resting on the floor.

The children hurried to follow you.

"That was great." "Is that so?" you asked without interest as you devoured your plate of chips.

Billy's friend nodded enthusiastically as he repeated your actions.

"They were strong, how could you stand up to those three?" Billy commented, still watching you, analyzing you.

"Well, my appearance isn't for nothing, you know..."

"Besides, where I come from, if you don't know how to defend yourself, you're doomed."

What a distrustful kid you have! They'd known each other for a few days, and he was still on the defensive. You threw a chip at his serious face, which earned you an angry reaction from the boy.

"Just eat and stop overthinking. It takes away your age, believe me, I speak from experience."

Seeing your father, with his beloved cases and his double life, showed you what seriousness can do to you in life.

Ahgg, old age was an inevitable monster.

"I thought you weren't coming," the boy commented, sitting on a swing in the park.

"Ahhh, why wouldn't I? I'm not supposed to miss it. Besides, I told you I'd come."

"Yes, but... this is a day people spend with family," he whispered in a weak voice, hiding his gaze.

You walked carefully to another of the swings and sat down. It was freezing, because the boy showed no signs of freezing and acted as if nothing had happened.

"Well, I'm supposed to be your sister," you smiled at the boy.

"It's just a job." The boy didn't look at you.

"I guess it is," you decided not to lie, to be honest.

You moved carefully onto the swing, pushing your feet off the ground as you moved.

"I don't have a good relationship with my family. I've been practically alone since my mother died."

"The little time I spent with you was the closest thing I'd ever had to a sibling relationship. It was a new family relationship since I lost my mother." You looked up at the sky. It was sure to start snowing. The low temperature was a sign

The sky was so calm, peaceful, just like the celebrations taking place.

"I came because I wanted to, not because I had to."

"Is that right?" he asked doubtfully.

You stood up. The swing made a squeaking noise, the wind blowing sent a chill down your body, and you spun around in front of where the boy was sitting.

"Look at me, I'm outside my warm and cozy apartment, on a cold, almost dark afternoon, freezing."

"Just for you." Your hand gently stroked his head, his small black locks.

It was unexpected, but the boy pushed himself forward, freeing his hands from the chains of the swing, taking a few small steps and hugging you. His small strength made you step back a little, but you recovered and continued stroking the boy's head.

That day, you took him to a 24-hour cafe. A misfit's paradise without company, perfect for the big day it was.

"Go ahead, order whatever you want, this will be our celebration," you smiled and pushed the boy into a seat, placing a paper menu in his hands.

It was a great night, with delicious and unhealthy food, a movie on the restaurant TV, small board games from your favorite manager and business owner.

And long conversations, jokes, and pointless ramblings.

Your phone received a few texts and a call. It was your family's butler, asking about your attendance.

A big party, being thrown by your father and your siblings, for their acquaintances and friends... you didn't fit in. Before, you had to attend, but now with your little brother, you have a perfect excuse.

You watched the boy smile and devour a plate of sweets.

Oh, it was like those days with your mother.

"Hey, ___, I have news for you." The boy appeared at your apartment. It became a habit for him to always visit you, in his free time, even after your time in the big brother program.

Even when the boy grew up, even when he found loving parents and siblings who appreciate him, he still visits you, even introducing you to his parents, who were kind to you, even inviting you to some of their get-togethers or parties.

You have a sneaky suspicion that if they could, they'd adopt you too. It's not that you were complaining; you loved that loving, large family, and your brother too.

You looked up from your computer and drew paper designs.

"What's up, sweetheart?" you called him by his nickname.

"Hey, stop calling me that, it sounds weird," he complained.

"Hahaha, sorry, I can't help it, it's funny to see you angry."

"You know what? Forget it," he pretended to back down and ignored you.

"Hey, come on... don't leave me with any doubts."

"Hmm, I'll do it, but you need to stop joking."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop." You shuffled your feet across the floor, moving your stroller to where the boy was sitting on the couch watching you.

"Well... my school is going on a field trip to the Metropolis Museum, and they've also organized some friendly soccer games with some schools from other cities." You could tell he was excited.

"Is that so? Well, it'll be a lot of fun, but make sure you don't get into trouble."

"..." You saw the boy squirm nervously in his seat, avoiding your gaze.

"What's up, what's that reaction?"

"Well, maybe I put your name down as a volunteer for the trip, and I'll assure my parents."

"Yeah, well, I hope you enjoy it... wait, did you put my name in it?" You were distracted, but after absorbing his words, you became alarmed.

"Yeah... well, I wanted to take a trip with you and my other siblings. They're coming too."

"I thought it would be fun," he said with a little hesitation.

You rubbed your fingers against your forehead, trying to relax and not explode.

Well, it wasn't a big sacrifice. You had your work at home. You could get ahead a bit, make deliveries quickly and finish some client orders, reschedule your schedule, make some calls, postpone, and stop accepting jobs.

Ah, just thinking about it exhausted you.

You looked angrily at the boy who smiled innocently.

"Ahhh, I'll go." That earned you a cheer. You even heard voices in the hallway; it was probably the other kids.

"But I need everyone's help to finish my work, or else I won't be able to go."

There were no protests, just hugs first from your favorite brother and then from the other children you grew attached to.

Damn, your time with children was spent talking to you. You even stopped picking verbal fights, the only ones you had left after leaving physical ones behind when Billy told you it was better to talk than to fight and settle things with blows.

Even when they drove you crazy, you promised to behave yourself with people.

"I heard your academy is going to Metropolis," Dick said curiously.

"Yeah, now they've decided they'll do programs to integrate different schools, to share bonds... and all that ridiculous stuff," Damian said without interest.

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun," Dick defended the idea.

"No, it won't be, even the games."

"Maybe they included you in that," Jason mocked the demon child's fate.

They only received a frown in response.

"Oh, haha, so it's true." Tim also took the new information with grace.

"Well, how about we all take advantage and go watch the games?" the oldest brother of the family suggested.

"What?"

"What?"

"You're joking, right?" It wasn't surprising that everyone reacted badly.

"Yeah, let's do it," the father of all the children, who had been listening silently, confirmed the idea. which ended in many complaints, but none of them managed to prevent the trip.

[naivesilver]

ASK MEME HUH? 😏 prepare yourself here :^)

okay okay so. (for the kid fic ask) 2 or 8 (toddler) or 3 (teenager)? with any parent child combination you feel like

I know this is a prime chance to write some angst but I have entered silly mode at some point lately so you get AU silliness only SLIGHTLY tinged with angst, I hope that's alright ssadkajshdnkbfk

(It also got longer than I'd anticipated, F in the chat for us all)

Kid/Parent Fic Prompts

3. "Everyone makes mistakes, it's okay."

"Hey, August, your dad said I'd find you..." Emma trails off, stopping halfway through the door as she takes in the scene before her. "...here. What are you guys doing?"

To Marco's credit, his son is, in fact, sitting in the shed just like the man had said. The only issue is that he's not alone - in fact, a swooping three of the kids in his care are crowded around him, typewriter pushed to the side as they peer at something taking center place on the table.

August looks up from it momentarily to shoot her a slight grin, which does nothing to soothe her confusion. "Scientific research."

"On a lamp? Thought that had been patented a while ago."

"Yes, but this is a monad lamp. We're trying to figure out if there's actually a cricket in here."

Emma's gaze moves to the object in question, eyebrows raised. "And that other guy's letting you? Isn't this literally attached to his hip most of the time?"

"We traded for the day!" The smallest of the puppets chirps excitedly, all but bouncing on August's knee. "Gina's showing him around, and we get to hang out with Gemini!"

"I see."

The problem with these kids, in Emma's mind, is that while they might have fairly contrasting personalities, there's something in them that betrays their connection even at first glance. Cedar's a sweet girl and the strange one with the metal arm is prone to brooding, and the two younger boys (she needs to find better nicknames to differentiate them than Big One and Little One, honestly - they bring to mind Tweedledee and Tweedledum, sometimes, but they'd probably take offense to that) are just unruly children like any other, and still they all share faint traces of past events that make her understand August a little bit more.

Right now, for example, the man has got a boy perched on his lap and Cedar leaning onto his shoulder, the other boy sitting on the tabletop with his ruined legs dangling over the edge, and yet they're all looking at her like they're about to tell her to take a leap of faith...or blow something up and ask her for help, at least, given Big Pinocchio's tendencies and those of the guy they call P. Emma should be backing away before it's too late, honestly.

"Doesn't that thing talk, anyway?" She hears herself asking instead, as if that were the most pressing matter. "Can't you just ask?"

"He's recharging," Cedar replies, ever the most helpful of them all. "That's why P left him at home. Grandfather said Gemini's not allowed to be around us unsupervised anymore, since the last time he tried to teach some nasty words to-"

"Hey!" The Pinocchio sitting on the table glares at her, a thunderous look on his face. "That's none of your business! Don't be a snitch!"

"It's not snitching if it's true! You only want to know because you've got a point to prove, anyway."

The boy sniffs haughtily, turning away. "I don't need to prove anything. I'm right. We've all got a cricket, so P should have one too."

"You're wrong. I never got a cricket, and Dad doesn't have one either-"

Emma can clearly see August barely stifling a laugh, the bastard. "Don't let Jiminy hear you say that, Cedar- I can assure you, he helped me quite a lot before he got a degree."

"I don't have a cricket," the little one says, beaming, seemingly unbothered by the squabble. "I just have Gina."

"Gina counts."

"Gina does not count, she's a duck." Cedar sighs, shaking her head of dark curls. "Why are you so worried about this, anyway? Your cricket isn't here, either."

One would expect Big Pinocchio to have a snappish retort for that, as well, and yet, none comes. Instead he seems to curl even further into himself, his glower even deeper, like a turtle tucking head and tail into its shell. "Yeah, but he was there," he mutters, much lower than before. "No one else could see him, so they thought I was making him up, but I wasn't. He was real, and I wasn't crazy."

The two adults exchange a look, the mood grown a tad more somber all of a sudden. This, perhaps, is the other thing these children have in common, and it's much less amusing than the first one - they have had some awful experiences already, for being so young, and sometimes they mention it in such an offhanded way, it sounds like everyday stuff, like making the bed or running errands.

Maybe it was everyday stuff for them, before. That doesn't make it more reassuring, either.

"That's okay." August sounds softer, too, as he leans closer to the boy and tries to meet his eyes. "We know you're not crazy. Those boys in your old school- they didn't have the full picture. Everyone makes mistakes, when they don't have the full picture."

And that, a smidge more teasing, once he has finally gotten Pinocchio to look up: "And I mean everyone. You know, Emma here, she didn't believe I was made of wood, in the beginning. Guess who proved her wrong later."

"Seriously?" Emma exhales heavily, relieved that her friend has been able to handle the situation so well and yet resigned to the fact that August continues to be, well, himself. "You only butt into this argument to throw me to the wolves?"

"You wouldn't want me to get in the way of a scientific debate, do you?"

If this were a normal conversation between the two of them, she would tell him to stop being so cheeky; but as it is, there are three more people in the room with them right now, people who have barely stopped looking wary and guarded before returning to their analysis of an otherworldly piece of machinery. There is little Emma can do beside playing along, distracting them from whatever effects the past still has on them all. She owes them that, at least.

"Alright," she says, dragging a spare stool closer and finding a spot near the table, mindless to how Cedar moves to lean on her instead, as is the nature of things.

"Let's crack this, then. I came over to ask something else, but you guys got to me. Show me what you've got, Gemini."

[nothinggold13]

Standing // Buffy the Vampire Slayer

"I haven't come to take your place, you know, but to put you into it." ~ Peter Pevensie

[camellcat]

the way I would wither up and die like a flower given too much of something good if I saw a good omens thiam fic written like Paper Moon by Skaboom. it's insane to me that it hasn't been done yet. like not even a one-shot or smth??

UGH. I would lit-er-al-ly die.

[kitchensinksurrealism]

this happened like 6 months ago but I'm still thinking about it so like if someone sends you a song, saying along the lines of "it kind of reminds me of your music", and the song is nowhere near by yo la tengo, with lyrics like these:

and also we rarely send songs to each other over message (although we did used to talk about music/recommend songs when we knew each other irl (like 60% of our conversations were about music)), does that mean anything or am I reading too much into it...

[yougavememyopia]

Continuation of this. A bit suggestive at the end.

Loser yandere was on his knees, begging for forgiveness. He got ahead of himself. Sucking your fingers like a perverted freak. He looked up at you with glassy eyes, pouting just slightly. He didn't mind your pity. In fact, he wanted it. The worst he made himself look, the more you let things pass.

You sighed, ultimately having no choice but to forgive him. He looked so sad, so lonely. Like a stray puppy begging for attention. Why wouldn't you spare his feelings? He had no real friends. It made sense that he didn't know how to act properly.

Except he did. He was just manipulating you, saying the right things to make you cave and hang out with him. He would speak with a certain depressed tone that would melt your heart, and when you agreed, he would become extremely happy. Cheering and overreacting. A great excuse to excitedly hug you. Throw his arms around your shoulders and get lost in your scent.

He was strangely smart. Using both negative and positive reinforcement. Getting you to say yes to avoid making him sad, and making you feel content by his contagious smile. All part of his plan that'll eventually end with you two happily engaged.

Even if that strategy didn't work, he'd just whine and beg. He knew you couldn't take it. You would glare at him, and he'd feel a strange sensation through his body. Sometimes, he wondered how being hit by you would feel like. Or maybe with your hand wrapped around his throat.

Given how much he bothered you, it was a miracle you were still friends with him. It wasn't all that bad. You somehow had fun hanging around with him, laughing at his silly jokes. He'd take you to so many places. Always making sure you were enjoying your time so you'd come back for more!

When you weren't in public, he'd get clingy. It was obvious he was touch-starved and a big attention seeker. He wanted to have you touch him, get close to him, and pay attention to him. Only him.

"I can't get this stupid button undone... Can you help me take this shirt off? Come onnn, it's way too hot in this room..."

"Look how good I smell. Come on, sniff my neck. It's a new thing I bought. It smells like your favorite!"

"I'm so hungry, and my hands are all tired. Ughh.. Can you feed me a snack? I'll open my mouth wide for you. Aaah~"

He'd still bug you about the kiss. Not ever talking about the incident afterwards. Those few months of reinforcement should've made you softer to him. He should've been able to get you to agree. But you stayed determined to deny him.

"I want a kiss already... Why can't you, my bestest friend, show me how it feels~? All of these movies have one. I'm being reminded of how much of a loser I am every single day." He grumpily said to himself as you both watched a weird horror movie. The scared couple on the screen made out to relieve their stress... or something. It was a strange movie he (purposely) picked.

"Can't you fucking understand?! It'll change this whole relationship. I told you that a million times." You crossed your arms, darting your gaze from the movie to him.

He sighed. You sighed. Then you exchanged a look. "Alright. Fine. You're not gonna stop asking, are you? Just promise me you won't act all awkward after it."

He lit up, nodding eagerly. "Really?! Oh, wow! Thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyou! You're the best! Seriously. A life saver~"

"Shut it." You groaned, watching the last bits of the movie with the characters escaping.

"Yes, ma'am. You got it." He climbed on your lap. That made you stiff a bit, looking at him with a confused look. He set his legs on your sides, his arms wrapping around your neck. "How is this gonna work? Can you please do it very slowly?"

"Eh...? Okay. Whenever you're ready." You wrapped your arm around his waist, not knowing what else to do with them. He hummed happily. His face came closer to you, and somehow, you felt nervous. You shrugged it off, letting him kiss you at his own pace.

"Here I go..." he whispered, his nose rubbing against yours.

He pressed a small peck on your lips as if to test out how it feels. Before you could correct him, he kissed you again. This time longer and harder. You squeaked at the suddenness, forced to lean back against the couch as he began to lick your lips, asking for entry.

You reluctantly opened your mouth, and he wasted no time. Pushing his tongue inside your mouth. Lapping at anything he could find. Your tongue brushed against each other, eliciting a moan from him. His hand held the back of your head to keep you from pulling away. Shifting a bit on your lap, whimpering against your lips.

He kept licking your tongue, sucking on it. He moaned again when you finally returned the kiss. His movements were clumsy, making it easier for you to take control. After a minute, he pulled away, panting as he buried his face into your neck. He seemed embarrassed, and so you hugged his waist tighter.

He moaned against your neck. "Ah.. that felt so nice. Mmh, shit..."

"Yeah... you got a little ahead of yourself, y'know. It was supposed to be a simple kiss. I never said tongue was allowed." You pointed out. Rolling your eyes, because you knew he didn't care.

"You never said it wasn't." He sat up to look you, tilting his head innocently. "I would've listened to you if you said it."

"No, you wouldn't have." You mumbled.

"You also didn't say I can't go for another one~!" He leaned in again and captured your lips in another kiss. You protested, hands gripping his shoulders now to push him away. He whined, sucking your lips as if that would change your mind. "But, please, just one more. I still haven't learned the proper technique yet."

You were beginning to understand that he had a different reason for overstepping boundaries. The way he kissed you, the way he tried to savor your taste, the way his pressed his body against yourself. It was like he was trying to devour you. Trying to be one with you.

He moaned loudly when he pulled away. His body was shaking a bit, his eyes dilating. Something pressed against your stomach. You didn't need to look down to see what it was. "Um... Oops?"

[mr-jack-letterman]

We need more young stan content out here.

And nah I ain't talking about 12 year old Stanley or 30 year old mullet Stan, I'm talking 17 year old, slicked back hair, acne riddled Stan pines.

Yeah that one.

I am so happy mullet Stan is so popular because his fit slaps ngl and the angst is so potent I can't not respect it. But teenage Stan has so much potential it's driving me insane.

There is a line dividing the 17 years of relative happiness Stan had with Ford and the 10+ years of depression and crime he had on the streets, and teenage Stan uses that line as a goddamn jump rope.

Seriously, depending on how you look at it dude is either living his best life or is fighting for said life in the trenches of homelessness and poverty.

I see a lot of content regarding Stan on the streets but it only ever focuses on 30ish Stan in his later years of homelessness where he's already a hardened adult after years of dealing with this bullshit. But Stan didn't just drive away and then magically turn 30. There were times in those first few months after Stan got kicked out where he was in his car, trying to sleep, probably starving, while still being fundamentally a child.

Hell, compared to the 30ish age of mullet Stan and the 60+ year old con man he'd later become, teenage Stan is damn near a baby. There's a certain brightness about him, a sort of warm naive optimism that still clings to him because he's straight up just too young to know any better.

He's still fully convinced he's gonna make it rich and go back to his family in a few years. He still believes wholeheartedly that even if shit sucks right now, eventually everything is gonna be okay. It has to be. But it's not gonna be okay. It's not gonna be okay for a long time. And some parts are just never gonna be okay.

Seeing a happy and oblivious teenage Stan feels like watching a baby lamb walk into a slaughter house.

The next 10-something years are going to tear him apart limb from limb. In 40 years he's going to wake up on a boat during a bout of amnesia thinking he's in Columbian prison, or he's locked in the trunk of a car and about to drown, or his shoulder is on fire and his brother is gone, or it's the end of the world and everyone he ever dared to give a shit about is about to die in front of him and it's all his fault because he was too weak to stop it.

At some point, a young Stanley is going to get into his first true life or death fight. He doesn't even have to be involved with crime yet for it to happen. He's probably bruised and bleeding, with not nearly enough money to afford a doctor. He's sitting in the driver's seat of his El Diablo having a complete and utter break down because he almost died and suddenly everything is real.

Nothing is okay, absolutely nothing is going to be okay and whatever is left of his teenage innocence, naivety, and warmth dies in that car and it never comes back.

The next 10+ years are going to fundamentally change Stanley as a person and he's never going to be the same ever again. But teenage Stan doesn't know that, he's still a kid trying to sleep in the back of his car, ignoring hunger pangs and finding comfort in the half baked business ideas his mind cooks up because he doesn't understand how utterly done for he is.

12 year old Stanley I believe is so appealing because of his bright rambunctious spirit. He's still just a kid playing on the beach with his brother, but so was teenage Stan. I just wish the wholesomeness that comes with that and the subsequent hurt that follows as that spirit is broken over and over again by the world was explored more.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Nineteen

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, teeth-rotting fluff, mentions of minor ptsd, the "do you want kids" talk, therapy, sexual content.

Notes — The queen of fluff strikes again. They're so in love it hurts. Enjoy this intermission from the angst before we get to Spa.

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! — Peach x

2021 (Hungary)

Max was having headaches.

Not debilitating, not anything he would admit needed painkillers. But Amelia noticed the way he squinted at the sim screen, how he blinked a little too often under the harsh lights, how he’d logged fewer hours this week than he had since he was seventeen.

She didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t want to push him.

But it gnawed at her, heavy and sour at the pit of her stomach.

Because she knew Max. Knew how he worked. If he thought for even a second that she might tell Christian or Helmut or, God forbid, the FIA, he'd lock it down even tighter, wrap himself up in barbed wire and throw away the key. Anything to stay in the car. Anything to win. 

Still, it scared her. The idea that maybe the crash had done more damage than he was willing to admit. That maybe he was hiding it from her, from everyone, in order to be given the all clear to keep racing. 

She leaned against the doorway to the RBR sim room one evening, arms crossed tight over her chest, watching him fight through another lap. He was good at pretending, but she saw the way his hand came up to the back of his neck when he thought no one was looking, how he massaged the side of his head, quick and angry like he could force the ache away. 

Her fingers twitched at her side. She wanted to walk over. Put a hand on his shoulder. Make him stop. But she didn't.

Instead, she just said, quiet but steady, "Don’t be stupid, Max."

He flicked his eyes toward her, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, but didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

She already knew what he’d decided. And she already knew it would break her heart trying to change his mind.

— 

Amelia sat at the kitchen island, watching her mom buzz around the kitchen, throwing together something that vaguely resembled a pasta salad. She scrunched her nose at the sight of it, half-finished, but already tragic, and fought the urge to say something. She hadn’t been lying to Lando over a year ago, standing in her garage, when she’d told him her mom was really only capable of cooking one thing successfully. And there was definitely no chicken in sight.

Her iPad was open in front of her, specs from the latest floor upgrade zoomed in on the screen, but she wasn’t really looking at them. Not properly. She was too focused on the strange, unsettled feeling curling in her stomach.

This was her first time at home for weeks, maybe even over a month, and she’d missed it, she had. She really had.

But something felt… different. Off, in a way she couldn’t quite pin down.

“I think I should get my own place,” she said eventually, voice quiet but certain.

Her mom spun around, salad tong still in hand, blinking fast.  “You— you don’t want to live at home anymore?”

Amelia shrugged, trying to find the right words. “No, it’s not that. It’s not that I don’t like it here. It’s just…” She trailed off for a second, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I feel like a nomad. I’m living out of hotels most of the time. And when I am in England, I’m split between here, Glastonbury with Lando, and Milton Keynes at Max’s flat. I have all these different places that feel half-mine. But nowhere that’s actually mine, you know?”

Her mom set the salad tongs down carefully, a little crease forming between her eyebrows. She didn’t look angry.

Amelia pressed on, rushing a little now in case she’d somehow managed to made her mom sad. “I still love it here. I do. But it feels like… like my childhood home, you know? Not my current home.”

There was a small beat of quiet. Then her mom gave a soft, bittersweet smile. “That’s what’s supposed to happen, honey. You’re supposed to outgrow home. I’m glad you feel ready.”

Amelia relaxed a little, shoulders unclenching. Then her mom added, almost too casually, “Will you and Lando get a place together?”

Amelia blinked. “What? No— I mean—” She stopped herself, brain scrambling to catch up. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I just meant me. Like… by myself.”

Her mom laughed, warm and a little amused. “Well, think about it. You practically live with him already, in hotel rooms, but still… it counts.”

Amelia frowned, thinking it through like it was a math problem. “Oh. Yeah. That would… probably make more sense, wouldn’t it?” She mumbled. “I don’t particularly think I’d want to live alone, anyway. And I have gotten used to all of his stuff taking up my space—“ 

Her mom just smiled again, all knowing and fond, and went back to massacring the pasta salad.

— 

Amelia smiled to herself and kept her head down, pencil scratching steadily across the paper in her lap. The rumble of the jet engine faded into white noise; background to the way her hand moved without much thought, the way it always did when her brain was chewing on something bigger than her.

Lando, sprawled out lazily in the aisle across from her, leaned over, curious. “What are you drawing, baby?”

Immediately, Amelia tilted the sketchbook away from him, tucking it protectively against her chest. Her ears burned hot. “Uh. Nothing. I mean—obviously something, but I don’t want to tell you.”

He stared at her for a long second, like he was trying to decode her, eyes narrowing slightly in that way that meant he wasn’t sure whether to push or leave it alone. Then he grinned, easy and warm. “Alright. Keep your secrets.”

He leaned back, stretching his legs out. 

Amelia ducked her head again, heart thudding faster than she wanted it to.

She wasn’t lying. She just… wasn’t ready to admit it out loud yet. Not to him, not to herself.

In the sketchpad, dozens of early concepts sprawled across the page; lines and curves and arrows scribbled in shorthand. A McLaren.

Not just any McLaren, either.

One capable of winning championships.

Lightweight rear end. Aerodynamic front wing for better rotation. A reimagined floor, designed with efficiency and flexibility in mind for whatever the regulation changes might throw their way in the next couple of years.

It was stupid, probably.

She didn’t work for McLaren. Never had, in any official capacity. 

She was still Red Bull’s weapon — heralded by the press as Max’s saviour. Mini Newey. A hundred nicknames but never just her own, never just Amelia Brown.

But the ideas had crawled into her head after Silverstone and refused to leave. It had started with a little idle thought (If I could build him a car good enough to fight Max…) and now here she was. 

She chewed on her pencil, staring at the half-formed shape of the nose, and tried not to think too hard about what it meant that she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything else. 

— 

They stopped in Belgium before ultimately traveling to Hungary. Lando had family there. Cousins, some distant and some much closer. They’d be too busy to do anything of the sort during the actual Belgium race week, so it was nice to be able to fit them in.

They visited a few over the course of the week; fleeting hellos, shared meals over chipped plates and loud, overlapping conversations. It was nice. Overwhelming, a little, but nice.

Lando introduced her to all of his relatives with a beaming smile and a dozen proud praises—"This is Amelia—yeah, my Amelia"—and she offered polite hellos, dodging kisses on cheeks and handshakes as politely as possible and then doing her best to keep up with the small talk when it was asked of her.

It was a little exhausting, mentally. The swirl of laughter, jokes she didn’t quite catch the punchline of, but Lando never pushed her too far. Never nudged her into the centre of things. He let her stay where she was comfortable, sometimes sliding his hand across her lower back when it got too much, or catching her eye from across a room with a soft, wordless smile.

Mostly, she ended up perched on the carpet with the kids, knees tucked under her, a tiny smile playing on her lips as she held up a toy car and explained, far too seriously, the engine type and manufacturer history. The toddlers listened with wide eyes, clutching their sticky-fingered toys and nodding solemnly as if they understood.

Later, in the car, as they drove back toward their hotel under the pale blue of evening, Amelia sat curled up in the passenger seat, hair pulled over one shoulder, a big blue stain on her blouse that was the product of finger-painting gone wrong. 

Lando was quiet, his hand resting loosely on the steering wheel, the other tugging her knuckles gently onto his thigh. "You were really good with them," he said eventually, voice soft enough that she almost thought she'd imagined it.

She made a face. “Kids are easy. All you have to do is keep talking and occasionally shove something colourful at them.”

He laughed under his breath. A minute passed.

Then, casual, like he was asking if she wanted to stop for food, he asked, "Do you want kids?"

Amelia blinked, turning her head to stare at him in the half-light. "I— we don’t even live together," she said, blunt and a little incredulous.

Lando’s mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile. "Well, we can change that."

She stared at him for a long second, watching the way his fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel. Like he wasn’t nervous. Like he meant it.

"Did you talk to my mom?" she asked suddenly.

He shot her a quick, confused glance. "What? No—why? Did you already—? I mean—"

“Okay. I would like to live with you," she said, cutting him off neatly.

For a second, he just blinked at her. And then he was smiling, wide and ridiculous, so big it looked like it physically hurt to contain it.

She giggled, reaching over to nudge his arm. "Stop making that face. You're going to scare the other drivers."

"I'm happy," he argued, grin stretching impossibly wider. "Let me be happy."

She rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her mouth gave her away. She settled back against her seat, watching the trees whip past the window, her heart full and a little chaotic.

"Who gets the bigger closet?" she asked after a beat.

He laughed, a low, warm sound. "You do. Obviously. I’ll just shove my stuff in a corner somewhere."

She nodded. “I do need a lot of closet room. I have two-hundred pairs of shoes.” A few seconds passed in comfortable silence before she tilted her head, thinking. "Where would we live?"

He didn’t miss a beat. "Monaco." 

She wrinkled her nose, instinctively. "That's... a big change."

He glanced over, softer now, like he already knew she'd need a minute with the idea. "Just think about it, baby," he said. "Makes sense for me. Makes sense for you. No taxes. Close to Max if you stay with Red Bull. Close to everything else if you don't."

She chewed on her bottom lip, the weight of it settling on her. A new country. A new chapter. A real home; with him.

He smiled again, smaller this time but just as sure. "We could make it our home."

Amelia nodded slowly, feeling her brain already spinning into overdrive. "I need to make a list. Pros and cons. Things we’ll want in the apartment. Maybe a balcony?"

Lando just grinned, reaching over to squeeze her thigh. "Anything you want, baby."

— 

“Do you think I’d be a good mom?”

Max froze mid-step, nearly tripping over his own feet. His eyes went wide, panic flashing across his face. “You—fuck, are you pregnant?”

His alarm might’ve had something to do with the fact that she was halfway under his car, only her legs and a shock of messy hair visible as she fiddled with a stubborn screw.

Amelia blinked, glancing up at him from beneath the chassis. “No. I’m just wondering.”

Max let out a breath so heavy it was basically a groan, dragging a hand down his face like he needed to physically wipe the terror off. “Fuck, don't do that to me, zusje. I nearly had a heart attack.”

She wriggled out from under the car, wiping her greasy hands on a rag as she sat back on her heels. “I wasn’t trying to scare you. I’m being serious.”

Max crouched down beside her, arms draped loosely over his knees, studying her with a little more care now. “Okay... why are you thinking about that?” he asked, voice softer.

Amelia shrugged. “I was just thinking—if it ever happened, would I be good at it?”

Max’s face relaxed. “You’d be a great mother.”

She tilted her head, skeptical. “You’re just saying that because it’s what you’re supposed to say.”

He snorted. “No, I'm saying it because it’s true. You love very intensely, you’re honest even when it’s not easy, and you are protective and strong. That's exactly what children need from a parent.”

Amelia chewed on her lip. “Pregnancy is scary. Completely out of my control. Everything, anything, could go wrong.”

Max’s expression shifted, softening. “That’s not something you need to worry about yet.”

She hesitated, then said, almost too quietly, “I think Lando would be a good dad. And I want to give that to him. One day.”

Max nodded. “Then you will. When you’re ready, of course.”

Amelia pursed her lips, staring off to the side. “We... I think we’re going to move in together. Soon. Lando mentioned Monaco.”

Max immediately brightened. “Good! I’m there already. We could be neighbours.”

She blinked, absorbing that new piece of information, slotting it neatly into the mental checklist she was already building. “Oh. Are there any available apartments in your building?”

Max huffed a small laugh, like he hadn’t expected her to take his suggestion seriously. “I’m sure there are.”

She nodded firmly, already halfway down the rabbit hole of logistics. “Okay. That would be efficient.” 

Max smiled at her, patient, fond. “I’m sure that you will find the perfect place, zusje. Don’t worry.”

Amelia nodded again, more to herself this time. 

— 

“We’re not living in Max’s building,” Lando said.

Amelia, perched cross-legged on the bed in his drivers room, immediately pouted. “Why not? It would make life so much simpler, Lan.”

He let out a short laugh, setting his phone down. “Look, I love Max, alright? But living that close to him would be... proper weird.”

Amelia tilted her head, frowning like he was speaking another language. “Why?”

Lando scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Imagine it. Every time we argue, he’s knocking on the door two minutes later—sticking up for you, making me feel like a right dickhead.”

She cracked a tiny smile but stayed stubborn. “But it would be efficient. And Max could help us fix things if something breaks.”

“Baby,” Lando said, laughing, “if something breaks, I’ll fix it. Or we’ll call someone. A professional. Not Max with a wrench and a YouTube tutorial.”

He reached over, tugging her socked foot into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I was thinking somewhere quieter anyway,” he added, softer now. “Away from the main city. Somewhere you can go on your little daily walks without bumping into tourists every five seconds.”

She perked up immediately. “My walks are important for my brain.”

“I know.” He smiled, running his thumb over her ankle. “I even asked Charles where he grew up. There are places, baby; small, quiet. Still close enough if we need to get into town. He said the air’s cleaner too.”

Amelia tapped her fingers against her knee, thoughtful. “Cleaner air is good. Better for respiratory health.”

Lando chuckled and tugged her closer until she half-fell into his side with a tiny yelp. “Exactly. So let’s find somewhere ours, yeah?”

She tucked her head under his chin, breathing him in. “Okay. But if Max gets upset, you have to deal with it.”

Lando grinned against her hair. “I can handle a grumpy Verstappen.”

— 

They were curled up in their hotel room, watching the latest episode of Grill the Grid the night before qualifying.

Amelia sat between Lando’s legs, her back pressed against his chest. He had her squished close, big hands sprawled comfortably across her stomach, pressing just enough to ground her, to help her breathe a little easier.

It’d been a rough day for Max, and the stress had bled into her too. Finally being still, finally letting herself relax, felt like a blessing.

She fiddled absently with her golf ball, thumb tracing lazy circles over the surface, half-listening, until the first trivia question came up.

Without hesitation, she rattled off the answer.

By the third question, Lando was laughing, reaching for the remote to pause the video after each one. “Alright, genius,” he teased, chin nudging the top of her head. “You get first go. Beat all of us.”

She answered every time without missing a beat.

He kept pausing, and she kept getting them all right, and after a while Lando wasn’t even pretending to be surprised anymore. He just squeezed her a little tighter and said, “Smarty pants.” 

Amelia smiled, small and shy but real.

Lando pressed a kiss into her hair. “I should start taking you to pub quizzes. I’d make a fortune.” 

She rolled her eyes at him, but she didn’t pull away.

— 

She felt... clingy.

Sitting next to Lando in hospitality, she stared at him, hands itching, burning to reach out, to grab him and never let go.

It had started yesterday. A coil of anxiety tightening in her stomach, left over from Silverstone. Aftershocks, she supposed.

She’d googled it, of course. Trauma responses. Hyper-vigilance. Perfectly normal, the internet said.

She didn’t feel normal.

She kissed Lando goodbye before qualifying, smiling as best she could, and ignored the way her hands trembled when she pulled away. She didn’t look back, even though everything inside her screamed to.

If it were up to her, none of them would be taking part in the weekends running. 

Not Lando. Not Max. Not Fernando. Not anyone.

She caught herself before the spiral could dig deeper, bracing one palm against the wall of the motorhome and forcing a deep breath.

She couldn’t live like this. Couldn’t let one crash, no matter how terrifying, poison the thing she loved. The thing they all loved.

But reason didn’t quiet the fear.

It didn't steady her hands as she watched Lando climb into his cockpit on the livestream.

It didn’t stop her from hugging Max tighter than usual, long enough that he gave her a puzzled little look before he was called away.

Even GP noticed. He kept glancing over, subtle but persistent. “You okay?” he asked, at least a dozen times throughout the session.

Every time, Amelia just nodded without looking at him, glued to the data, clinging to logic, to numbers, to anything she could control.

It helped. A little.

— 

Lando out-qualified Daniel by a mile.

He was cocky and proud, chest puffed out as he peeled her dress off later that night, caught between frantic and careful.

His mouth was hot against her neck, pulling soft, desperate sounds from her lips, her back arching into him. Then his hand tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to tilt her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze.

He was smirking. Full of adrenaline. Hungry. “You think I deserve a reward for my performance?”

Amelia blinked up at him, sweet and soft and unbearably hot. “Anything you want, Lan.”

— 

The next morning, she clung to him, legs tangled with his, her hands wrapped tightly around his wrists. Holding him, having him, needing him close. The warmth of his body against hers felt like the only thing that was grounding her.

He kissed her nose, then her forehead, her cheeks, and chin, finally landing on her lips. The slow, deliberate kiss deepened, but she pulled away just enough to speak.

“I think I need to talk to somebody. A therapist, probably.”

Lando froze, his fingers still brushing against her skin, a soft hesitation in his touch. “You’re... Fuck, I knew something was up. I could feel it, but I didn’t know for sure.”

She gave him a steady, matter-of-fact look, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Yeah, that’s because I hid it from you. Didn’t want you to worry."

His face softened, and the guilt crept in. “You should’ve told me, Amelia.”

She shrugged, her stomach twisting under the weight of his gaze. “I didn’t want you distracted…”

"Don’t be stupid." His words were sharp, but they didn’t make her flinch. His hand found the back of her neck, pulling her gently against him. “You tell me when you’re having a shit time, okay?”

She sighed, pressing her forehead to his. “Sorry.”

His fingers slid through her hair, his voice steady but soft. "No more hiding it. Right?"

She nodded, barely, but it was enough.

“We’ll find someone good for you to talk to,” he said after a beat, his hand moving to stroke her hair.

She rubbed the tip of her nose against his collarbone affectionately. “Okay.”

— 

She popped her head into Fernando’s garage, offering him a soft smile. He came over, gave her a quick squeeze, and gestured proudly to his helmet. “Pretty, huh?”

She nodded, indulging him with a grin. “I like it. How are things going with Esteban?”

Fernando sighed. “Ah. He is… complicated. A good driver, but a terrible teammate. He does not see how both things can be true at once.”

She glanced over at Esteban’s side of the garage. “He’s passionate.”

Fernando nodded thoughtfully. “He is. That will be his greatest strength—and his greatest weakness.” He kissed her cheek and shooed her off. “Go, go, before Verstappen finds you here and threatens to keep you chained to his garage.”

She hugged him again, leaning in just close enough to murmur, “Adjust your ride height. Two centimetres higher.”

Before he could say anything, she gave him a sly smile and disappeared down the paddock.

— 

She sat next to Checo in the strategy meeting, slouched low in her chair, sneaking cursory glances at him every time he slid his phone under the table toward her. They were playing chess; badly, if she was honest, but that was half the fun.

Checo would make a move, tilt the screen toward her, and wait, barely suppressing a smug grin. She'd frown, tap out a counter, and slide it back without a word.

No one else seemed to notice. Or if they did, they didn’t care.

Checo was a lot of fun. Easygoing. Quick to laugh. And, as it turned out, a little reckless with his queen.

Amelia pinned him in three moves flat.

Checo huffed under his breath, shaking his head at her. She just shrugged, eyes back on the screen at the front of the room like nothing had happened at all.

— 

It was raining. Not hard, not anymore, but enough to slick the track and raise every hair on the back of Amelia’s neck.

She stood, stiff-backed, arms folded across her chest in the Red Bull garage, the whole world around her muffled and distant. She could hear the shrill whine of the engines as the formation lap wrapped, but it was like she was underwater. Distant. Fading.

Max was P3. Lando was P6. Fernando was lurking, dangerous as always. The Mercedes were ahead, unpredictable on a damp track.

Amelia flexed her fingers, breathing deep and slow. 

The lights blinked above the front of the grid, one, two, three, four, five, and before she could even brace herself, the race started.

Chaos.

Immediate, all-consuming chaos.

Bottas missed his braking point into Turn 1 and plowed into Lando. She didn’t even see it happen, only saw Lando’s car snap sideways, broken, ruined, like a toy in the rain.

She flinched so hard she almost dropped her iPad.

And then Max—Max—

She watched it in horror, too slow to look away, as Max’s Red Bull got collected in the chain reaction, bodywork flying, his car crumpling along the side-pod.

Her knees buckled; she caught herself with a hand on the pitwall.

Someone shouted. Someone else was already running to grab spare front wings. Alarms buzzed in her headset, engineers yelling over one another.

“Max has heavy damage,” GP was saying into her ear through the comms device, voice low and tight. “We’re evaluating. Standby.”

Her hands trembled.

The cars crawled through the carnage, half the grid limping back toward the pitlane. She stared at Max’s car as it crept past, side torn open like a wounded animal, sparks flying out the bottom.

“Still going,” she heard someone say. "He's still going."

Somehow, Max was dragging the car around. Somehow, Lando had pulled off track without getting hit again.

The red flag was thrown. Race temporarily suspended.

Amelia let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding and pressed her forehead against the wall. Cold metal, cold air, cold panic.

She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder — once, solid and grounding. Probably an engineer who hadn’t been briefed, but they were lucky, their touch felt good, and didn’t make her want to tear off her skin. 

She nodded, to herself, to anyone watching her, making sure she was good. 

Didn't trust herself to speak yet.

— 

Lando was out.

Too much damage. Retired on lap two.

Max was luckier. He kept going, dragging a half-broken chassis to the finish line, scraping whatever points he could.

Esteban won. His first victory.

Amelia watched from the back of Lando’s garage as the Frenchman stepped onto the top step of the podium, soaking in the moment.

Lando’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close.

She didn’t need him to say anything — she could feel it. The bitter edge of jealousy under his skin, the tight set of his jaw.

“It’ll come,” she muttered, more promise than reassurance, her mind flicking to her sketchbook, to the concepts she hadn't shown anyone yet — the ones that could take him all the way. 

The chassis she’d created with two particular drivers in mind. 

Lando squeezed her tighter.

— 

Summer break came just when she needed it.

She and Lando flew back to Monaco with Max, crashing in his guest room while they started apartment hunting.

Well… Lando did most of the hard work. Talking to estate agents, putting out feelers.

Amelia kept herself busy playing with Jimmy and Sassy, who decided almost immediately that she was their new favorite human.

She didn't mind. The cats were easy company, curling up on her lap or following her around the flat as Lando scrolled through listings and Max grumbled about all the overpriced places in the area.

It felt good, normal, even, to slow down. To just exist for a little while, tucked away in the hazy warmth of a Monegasque summer, surrounded by people (and animals) who loved her.

— 

They fell in love with the first place they viewed.

If Amelia believed in fate, she might have called it that.

Lando stood back and watched as she wandered through the apartment; past the galley kitchen, onto the balcony, big enough for a table, a chair, maybe even a canopy swing if she wanted.

Two bedrooms, three bathrooms. A master suite and a double. A massive living room, an even bigger office.

She could already see it: herself at a big desk, sketching new concepts as sunlight poured through the wall of windows.

She found Lando in the kitchen, deep in conversation with the property agent.

When he glanced up, she was already beaming at him.

— 

They spent two weeks of summer break, the rare stretch when neither of them had to be working full-time, Lando free from training camps, Amelia unchained from the factory, tucked away in the South of France.

It felt like stepping into another life. Long mornings spent tangled up in crisp hotel sheets, slow breakfasts on sun-drenched balconies overlooking sleepy coastal towns. They rented a little convertible and drove with no real destination, winding through golden hills and lavender fields, the radio humming low between them.

Amelia wore tiny sundresses and braided her hair, and Lando kept finding excuses to kiss her bare shoulders. They swam in cold, clear water until their fingers wrinkled, then collapsed on the beach, salt still clinging to their skin. 

At night, they fell into bed full of good food and exhausted. 

It wasn’t some extravagant, carefully curated holiday. It was just… easy. 

And somewhere between the lazy afternoons and the late-night kisses, Amelia stared at him and thought, “I could spend the rest of my life with you.” 

— 

The evening was warm, a soft breeze rustling the leaves around them. Lando had set up a speaker on the patio, the faint sound of acoustic guitar playing in the background, but they weren’t paying much attention to the music. Amelia was sitting on the edge of a chair, arms loosely draped over her knees, looking out at the stars above. Lando was sitting on the stone steps, watching her.

“So, how was it?” He asked. 

Amelia smiled faintly, but her eyes were tired. “It was… fine,” she started, kicking the edge of the chair with her foot, watching the dust float up into the air. “A bit awkward, but that’s probably normal. Online therapy, you know?” She rolled her eyes, but there was a lightness to her tone, as if she was still trying to find the right words. “It felt like… trying to untangle a knot in my brain, but someone else was holding the other end.”

Lando nodded thoughtfully, shifting on the stairs so he was facing her more. “I get that. Did she—” He paused, checking her expression, making sure she was okay. “Did she help at all?”

Amelia shrugged, a soft exhale escaping her. “Not yet. I mean, we talked about a lot of stuff. Things I didn’t realise were connected, you know? I think it’ll take a few sessions for it to click. It’s hard to explain. But I felt… heard, I guess. Which is something.”

Lando nodded again, his gaze softening. “Proud of you, baby.” He looked over at the empty space beside him. “Come here.”

She raised an eyebrow but stood up, moving to join him. As she sat beside him on the steps, she rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re really good at this whole comfort thing.”

Lando chuckled, sliding an arm around her waist. “I try my best.” After a beat, he stood up, holding out a hand to her. “Wanna dance?”

Amelia looked at him, surprised, but the quiet night seemed to make everything feel a little more possible. She took his hand with a grin. “We’re really doing this?”

Lando smiled, tugging her to her feet. “Why not? It’s a slow song.”

The music played on, soft and gentle, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Just moved together, swaying under the dim glow of the patio lights, with the sound of the wind and distant waves in the background. Amelia closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of the moment settle into her chest, her heart still thudding, but in a different way now.

“You know, you’ve been pretty great,” she murmured after a while, her hand resting against his chest. “With everything.”

Lando’s smile was barely visible in the dark, but she felt it in the way he pulled her just a little closer. “Always.”

She closed her eyes.

Always sounded pretty good.

NEXT CHAPTER

[cherriibombfics]

You know something folks don't often talk about with Self Aware AUs that I really think more people should discuss when writing about it? Sequence breaking. Specifically the inherent sequence breaking that comes with Gacha games allowing you to meet characters that you haven't met yet in the story if you haven't played that far ahead.

For example, I actually just started playing CRK nearly 2 weeks ago after watching a bunch of animations and cutscenes about the latest Beast Yeast episode online, right? And as a result, I got enough F2P currency from being a new user to get, in this exact order: Pure Vanilla Cookie, then Black Sapphire Cookie, then the soul jams to awaken PV, then Shadow Milk Cookie. All of this happened before GingerBrave canonically met any of them.

So basically Shmilk woke up one day, was out of the tree he was trapped in for what felt like an eternity, appeared in some random small kingdom, sees PV who was now all glowy and angelic and hanging out with his minion for some reason, who immediately walks up to him and says something like, "Hey man. I experienced enlightenment and I have no idea how. But through context clues from The Baker, I think I just ruined your entire corruption arc you had planned for me? Sorry about that. You wanna beat up some cake monsters as these children learn the dark lore of our existences?"

I don't think PV talks like that, but you get the picture. I like the idea of accidentally ruining the entire plotline by having some lucky gacha pulls~

"ɢᴇᴛ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴏɴᴇᴅ ɪᴅɪᴏᴛ!"

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 540

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ᴀ/ɴ: ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴀ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ-ᴜᴘ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ᴍɪʟᴋ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ x ʙᴀᴋᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧ SHADOW MILK COOKIE would be ecstatic about finally being released from the Silver Tree, and with a physical form no less? All so far ahead of schedule? Oh, he was over the moon! But where was he? This wasn't that silly faerie kingdom. As a matter of fact, was he even still on Beast-Yeast?

✧ In the context of the story the existence of the Cookie Kingdom is, well, horrifying. New cookies being summoned were a common occurrence within its walls, from different regions, time periods, and even ones that had crumbled long ago. After a certain point the ruler of the kingdom started finding ways to allow cookies to adjust to their new life, but of course that system didn't work for everyone.

"For the last time, I do not want to join your silly kingdom! Where are my minions? And where on Earthbread am I?"

✧ He'd be livid that his powers don't work here for some reason, safe for a couple of things like summoning a plush rabbit of all things. Why was he being reduced to this mockery? Who was turning a former almighty cookie into an equal to the foolish cookies who lived here? Seriously, is that mask-wearing buffoon always lifting something?

✧ He'd eventually comply, albeit reluctantly, because after a while he'd realize there's no point in resisting the inevitable. You held the power here, over everyone, and for the first time in years there he felt completely powerless.

“Do you enjoy seeing me kneel before you? Do you find pleasure in watching me be reduced to this?! I’m the one holding the strings, I AM NO PUPPET!”

“Why are you yelling at the sky?”

✧ At some point you’re forced to talk to him directly since he was causing troubles for the other cookies with his ramblings and general abrasion.

“You, YOU! You’re the one who did this to me! I was happier inside of that stupid tree than I am here! Why me? Why not one of the others? Why did you decide to torture me like this?”

“I dunno, the gacha just picked you I guess.”

“What are you talking about?!”

✧ He’d become even more upset when you explain the gacha to him and, by extension, the fact that their entire world was technically a game. So his current situation was entirely chance. You sent him away after that, promising that you’d build a few structures for him in return for good behavior.

“Wow, this is humiliating. Why am I being stuck cutting wood? I’m a jester not a lumberjack…”

“Shadow Milk Cookie!”

✧ Being reunited with his minions was nice, for a short while, it gave him some sense of normalcy throughout the newfound confusion. Because at least he wasn't alone during this. That Distorted Tower you promised seemed that nice, and you weren't that bad he supposed. It could've been worse…wait. Was that Pure Vanilla Cookie? Why was he glowing?

“Oh, hello again! I believe I experienced enlightenment during your absence. I’m not too sure on the details, outside of that spire, but I’m grateful we’re meeting in better circumstances. It’s nice to see you be given a chance at redemption.”

“You what?”

✧ Nevermind. This sucks.

[fanficsformyfaves]

The Town Grouch

Luke Danes x Reader

WARNING: SMUT 18+, Enemies To Lovers Trope, Unprotected Sex (Wrap it up, this is fiction, you are not!), Oral Sex (R Receiving)

PREFACE: Reader's the usually cheery neighbor that gets into a screaming match with Luke over him being exceptionally rude to her one morning

A/N: Possibly the daddiest of all my fictional crushes

I was out grabbing my mail, when I cross paths with none other than 'The Town Grouch', Luke Danes, who was throwing his trash, whilst kicking the receptacle.

"What'd the can ever do to you?", I chuckled.

Locking up my mailbox.

"Don't start with me, (Y/L/N)"

"Hey"

"I don't have time for your hounding today"

"I was not 'hounding'. I simply asked what grudge you had against the innocent trashcan"

"How do you know it's innocent?"

"It's an inanimate object with no limbs to commit any sinister crimes with"

"Yeah yeah yeah, defend the trash against me"

"What is with you today?!"

"What the hell are those?!", he yelled,

Gesturing at the new daisy pots that decorated the outside of his diner.

"Daisies, what about 'em?"

"I know what they are, genius!", he yelled,

"Luke-"

"I'm asking; Why are they there?! They're turning the outside of my diner into an eyesore!"

"The daises are an eyesore element now?"

"Yes!"

"Then why are you yelling at me for?!"

"Oh, come on, you're the only person I know who would do this besides Lorelai and she's out of town with Rory"

"Well, yeah I did do this, but I don't get why you're so wound up about it!"

"I like my diner the way it is! Inside and Out! How my dad left it!"

"It was literally a hardware store!"

"That's besides the point! It was my dad and I decide what goes!"

"Alright, I'm sorry! I just thought it would be a nice gesture-"

"Save it", he cuts off.

Storming back towards the diner's door.

"Luke!", I yelled after him.

Once I realized he wasn't stopping, I ran after him.

"Luke!"

"Jess, you're in charge for the rest of the day"

"But-"

"No buts!", he screamed.

I sped walked past all the shocked tables, calling out for him.

"Luke, I'm not through with you!", I shout.

Running up the stairs behind him.

"I am", he grumbled.

Just as he was about to unlock his door, I yelled after him for a final time.

"Listen, you stubborn asshole!"

His head snaps back at my direction.

"What did you just call me?", he questioned.

Making his way back to me.

"You heard me! A stubborn asshole for acting like one!"

"Now, you listen to me-"

"NO! YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME!", I poke his shoulder.

Catching him off guard.

He'd never seen me so heated before as I had a certain reputation for being level-headed and easy going.

"I wanted to do something nice for you since I thought we were friends, but I guess we aren't!"

"Yeah, we aren't"

"Obviously not cause if we were, I'd get a simple thank you or a smile or nod or whatever people like you, who think they're above socializing, do! Sorry for thinking anything more of 'The Town Grouch'!"

"Town Grouch, huh?", he challenged,

"Yes, 'The Town Grouch'! The one everyone warned me about when I first moved here, but of course, I decided to give you a chance cause I liked you, but God, turns out they were right! You're just this mean old bitter-"

I was suddenly cut off by Luke grabbing me by the waist and crashing his lips against mine.

In what felt like a blink of an eye, all my anger melted away and I found my arms wrapping themselves around his neck. I went from a raging whirlwind to a melting puddle in his grasp.

The kiss was...good, which was the craziest part of all of this.

Eventually I pulled away and all I could see where his once baby blue eyes turn dark. He then throws me around his waist, carrying me into his apartment, before using my body to slam the door shut. I threw my head back at the impact giving him access to my neck, which he proceeded to mark with several hickeys.

"You are insufferable", he mumbled against my skin.

Grinding into my clothed core.

"Right back at you", I sighed.

Pushing off the stupid cap he always sports.

He pulls my shirt over my head and quickly unhooks my bra, leaving my buds to harden against the cold winter draft.

"But you're worth the hassle", he sighs.

Diving between my breasts, before giving each one equal amounts of attention with his tongue. I was growing wetter with each passing second.

We eventually make it to his bed, where he threw me down. I go to take my skirt off, when he grabs my wrists to stop me.

"Skirt stays on", he demanded.

Taking my underwear off instead.

He takes a good look at my drenched slit and gets up, as I undo his belt, pulling his jeans down along with his boxers. His aching member now standing at full attention.

He strips off his shirt and climbs back on top of me, kissing his way up as he did till our mouths met once more. He reaches down for his cock, spreading my slick, before thrusting into me one go, ripping a scream out of me.

His hand then quickly goes over my mouth.

"There's a room full of people downstairs. Wouldn't want them to know what we're up to, do we?", he chuckled over his groans.

Beginning to pick up a rhythm with his hips. As if the bed scraping against the floor from the sheer force wasn't much of a giveaway already.

Maybe it was the size difference, but I didn't expect him to be this big. It felt like I was being split apart, but in the most delicious way.

"Fuck, don't stop!", I whined,

Earning a chuckle from Luke.

"Wasn't planning on it, sweetheart"

His pace picks up and with each ram, his tip hit my g-spot repeatedly, bringing me closer and closer to my climax. I watch as his free arm snakes under my body to help him pound into me even harder and faster.

If you had told me three years ago that I'd be in this position right now, no pun intended, I would've called you crazy, psychotic even, but in this moment, anyone else's opinion couldn't have been further from my mind, as it was currently being overrun with the blinding pleasure that was setting my skin on fire.

I knew I didn't have long and his hand reaching down to rub my sensitive bundle nerves didn't help.

"You're close, I can feel it. Do it,", he moaned against my tear stained cheeks.

And with that final sentence, I came completely undone, screaming out into the air and surely disturbing any paying customers downstairs.

Not too long after, his rhythm falters and he comes, painting my insides with a roaring groan against my neck. He then drops atop me, grounding me from the overwhelming high.

"That was-"

"Yeah", I answered,

"We just-"

"Mhm"

He then pulls out, descending lower to lick up the mess we made. I whine, grasping at his hair.

After thoroughly eating me out, he scoops me into his arms, laying me on his chest. The silence, though wildly contrasting from our previous performance, was actually quite...nice. Almost sweet and familiar.

"I'm sorry about getting so worked up"

"Don't be. I should've asked"

"Still, it was unfair. You were just trying to help and I was being a stubborn asshole"

"Gasp! He admits defeat!", I quipped,

"Don't push it"

"Okay", I laughed,

"Well, if getting you worked up lands us right back here, maybe I should piss you off more often"

He shrugs.

"Not a bad place to be, I guess", he smiled.

Till this point, I'd never seen him smile.

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 ✦

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader (delta) | smut, 18+ | 4.1k

summary: you, soap and gaz make a silly bet at ghost's expense for an invaluable prize.

cw: mw3 spoiler free. 141 ridiculousness, humour, attempts to remove the mask resulting in life threatening (not really) injury, mild exhibitionism if you squint, very talkative ghost, 'interrogation' wink wink, unprotected p in v sex, reference to f receiving oral.

ghost mlist | main mlist | taglist

"Y'know, I'm sure as shit that L.t's got brown hair," Soap pipes up in the middle of the silence that had settled inside the safe house. 

The members of Task Force 141 glance up one by one, querying eyes cast Soap's way as the guesstimated observation hangs in the air. It's louder than chopper blades, thudding against your skull and roaring in your ears as you attempt to recall the information you have on Ghost, what little physical attributes you can attribute to him. Each time, you hit a brick wall. The only image conjured in your minds-eye is the black voids of the mask's eyes and the piercing amber of his irises. 

The wind howls outside, battering the windows with Wyoming snow and creeping in through the cracks in the panes. It makes a yowling sound as it slips through the crevices, carrying your memories of Ghost's appearance with it. He truly was like an apparition, there one moment, then gone altogether. 

Gaz's brows crease in the middle, little crevices in the skin showing his mind working over the sentence. 

"He doesn't," he eventually retorts, eyebrow cocked while shaking his head, "He's blonde." 

"What makes you say that?" Price scoffs at his colleague's certainty, "You ever seen his face?"

The silence that follows makes the Captain chuckle. A wordless 'that's what I thought'. 

"You willin' to bet on that?" Soap pushes Gaz with a lopsided smirk. There it is, that ridiculous playfulness that the Scotsman continuously let slip over coms. Simon had once reprimanded him for how it would get him killed– you were almost certain if he continued down this path in particular, he'd be in a box by daylight.

"I am," Gaz counters thoughtlessly, a smug lilt to his tone as he leans the crown of his head back against the rotting wooden wall, "He's got blonde eyelashes. He's gonna have blonde hair."

"What're ya gettin' so close tae him for?" Soap grins wide, loading the new ammunition and hitting a bullseye on the first shot, "You been snoggin' him or somethin'?"

"Lads," Price warns. It's only one word, but it says a lot; 'he'll have your head.' All of you know Simon 'Ghost' Riley well enough to know it's not a joke. Seen enough of the mangled bodies he left behind to know it wouldn't be clean, either. More like he'd hack your skull from your neck, picking out the dullest blade that'd struggle to slot between vertebrae.  

"Bets on, then," Soap continues, white teeth gleaming in the low light, "First to confirm gets the honour of shootin' Hassan between the eyes." 

It's like throwing a match at a body doused in diesel. 

                           ✰

The parameters of this wager are as follows... First: the competition is between you, Soap and Gaz. Price was ruled automatically exempt the moment he admitted he had, indeed, seen Ghost's face. It was a revelation that caused quite a storm- and a promise from Gaz of £100 if he'd tell.

The Captain, quite frankly, told him where to stick it. 

Second: None of you could just ask Ghost himself. That was boring; no fun in that. 

Thirdly, there are no other rules. Acquire the information by any means necessary to claim victory. Perhaps this rule should have been revised- because to say that 141's tactics for getting Ghost to reveal his face were a little unorthodox is an understatement of the highest order. 

Despite his hulking frame, Ghost is like a cunning fox, cognizant of even the slightest changes in energy and hypervigilant of those approaching. The midnight void of his grease paint that frames his eyesockets contrasts the whites of his eyes as they dart back and forth between you all. He appears to have noted the devious scheming, practically hearing the cogs turning in your heads the moment he returned from his watch. Something is amiss, and you know Ghost knows it. 

He says nothing. 

Day One; the grumpy, black-clad special ops soldier sits back in his seat as he crosses his arms over his vast chest, cautiously observing the minute movements the three of you made. He'd bristled when Gaz stood from the sofa simply to enter another room, poised and ready to pounce at whatever fuckery the younger soldier would attempt. 

"Hey, L.t.," Soap's drawl cuts through the humorously tense atmosphere in the room, and you brace yourself for his master plan. "When was the last time ye got a haircut?"

Ghost hesitates. Waits a beat. The silence stretches almost uncomfortably until he answers, thick, bassy voice almost booming in the box room. "What're you playin' at, Johnny?"

Soap shrugs his shoulders, exuding complete nonchalance as he settles into the seat across the table from the hulking mass of man. "Just wondered if the mask ever came off. How do you cut your hair?"

Amusement ripples through you in the sound of a chuckle, both men glancing your way. Ghost peers at you, suspicion pooling thick in his pupils. 

"Shave it," Ghost rumbles bluntly, with an air of finality that leaves no room for argument or for Soap to encourage him to try something stupid like curtain bangs or, God forbid, a mohawk. 

You can't help but grin from ear to ear as you watch the Scotsman's shoulders slump in defeat, already waving a white flag upon seeing how unwilling Ghost is to play whatever stupid game you're all partaking in. Even you can't deny the anxiety that prickles across your nerve endings when you see the way Ghost's biceps flex beneath the camo fabric of his uniform, primed for action. 

When Ghost's aqua irises slide to you, your shoulders shrug comically, putting on the performance of your life to appear as though you had no idea what Johnny was up to. You see the way Ghost's blacked-out eyelids squint in suspicion. He doesn't believe you, but doesn't say as much. 

Day Three and the polite, roundabout tactics had been discarded in favour of the nuclear option. Gaz had tried ambushing Ghost in the shower, opening the door without knocking as if pretending he didn't know the Lieutenant was in there. The door slammed so quickly into his head that an egg had been steadily growing on his forehead for the past hour and a half, blood seeping from his almost certainly broken nose. 

"You'll stay out next time, Bravo 2-6, if you know what's good for you," Ghost had growled through the crack in the door before shutting it with a click of the lock. 

Holding his face and slinking away, mortally wounded, Gaz uttered a humiliated 'Yes, lieutenant'. 

Soap, clearly not having learnt from poor Gaz, decided that the next best option was a trip, so to speak. Executing a ludicrously overexaggerated stumble, Johnny reached out to grab Ghost's mask to 'steady himself' and ultimately drag it from his superior's head. 

Ghost had leapt from his seat with a roar, threatening to send Sergeant MacTavish back to Scotland in a box with the Saltire draped across the lid. The standoff only settled upon Captain Price's barked orders to stand down or hang up the uniform. 

By Day Six, Ghost had bruised your opponent's egos enough that neither Soap nor Gaz dared attempt to peek beneath the mask again. They look at you like you're absolutely bonkers when you finally announce it's your turn to try and tame the beast. 

"Yer fuckin' mad, hen," Johnny grumbled, watching you observe Ghost from across the room. He'd settled on a chair in the corner of the room, ensuring no one could sneak up on him. "You can't seriously be plannin' on-"

"I want Hassan," you shrug, a smile playing on your lips. Though, at this rate, you couldn't care less about the terrorist and the honour of dispatching him. No, Ghost had made this ridiculous game far more competitive than needed, and you planned to win.

"Have fun," Gaz scoffed bitterly, still icing the blotchy green and purple bruise that had welted on his forehead as a medal of dis-honour. You hadn't exactly helped the healing process, poking it harshly with the pad of your thumb as you laughed at his mortifying misfortune. 

You wait patiently for Ghost to move, like a stake out on a mission. Lying in plain sight in a ghillie suit, a sniper rifle pointed right between his eyes and your finger on a hairpin trigger. You wait for him to break, for exhaustion to creep in. Thankfully, you don't have to wait long. The Lieutenant rises from his chair, announcing to 141 that he's headed to bed. 

A quiet mumble of 'goodnight' from each member grants him leave, and Ghost walks out of the room without further word. You waste no time in hurrying to your feet. 

"Are you gonna...-" Soap winces when you stand, trailing off when you start after Ghost, not allowing either of your colleagues to talk you out of this suicide mission. 

Though, the moment you turn the corner, you wish you had. Ghost's broad frame practically fills the narrow hallway like someone had plucked Everest from Nepal and shoved its hulking mass into a matchbox. He's ginormous, his usually silent footsteps causing the aged, rotting wood beneath the soles of his boots to creak with the weight he applies when he turns to face you. 

The dark hallway obscures Ghost's skull-face mask, but a glittering reflection of the golden light bleeding from the bulb in the living room area flickers across the wet surface of his eyes as he observes you. You can't allow the weighty pressure of his stare to phase you if you're to push ahead with your plan- so you step forward, swallowing down the nerves that Ghost's attention inevitably dredges up. 

"Lieutenant, sir," you address him smoothly, voice low as you gaze up at him through your lashes. Ghost's eyebrow arches in response, noting your somewhat suggestive behaviour. "Permission to spea-"

"I'm hopin' you'll tell me what you're all up to," his eyes spear your nerve as he interrupts you, "They're not lettin' up, but I'll get it outta you one way or another." 

"What... Did you have in mind?" You chance, heart slamming up against your chest when you realise just how obvious you're being. It's dangerous- you hadn't planned to be so forward. The idea that he'd be able to read your flirting so soon set off mortars in your veins. 

There's a pause. It dizzies you, throwing your previously sturdy confidence off kilter when Ghost tilts his masked head slightly. He's turning it over in his mind, considering the past few days' events. Then, he turns everything on its side. 

"I know what you're doing," he speaks suddenly, the rich baritone of his voice ricocheting off the walls and ringing in your ears like he's just discharged a round of ammo with each syllable. You jerk upright, standing to attention. 

"I don't know what you m-"

"You want the mask off," he interrupts you again, cutting your pathetic excuse short as he steps forward. It's ridiculous, the sheer size of him as he looms over you. "You lot made a bet."

Another beat. Ghost waits for a response, an admission of guilt. It feels like he's cornered you; every answer that springs to mind is incriminating. You know he can see your rueful expression, wide-eyed and panicked by the ease with which he puts you on the ropes. 

"Was this your plan?" He murmurs, reaching to grasp your chin. His palm settles on the hollow of your jaw, fingers fanning out across the bone. "Get me into bed and see if I'll take it off?"

Trembling in his hold, you whimper as Ghost's thumb stretches across to trace the curve of your lip. It follows the delicate arc, lining the shape of your mouth and trailing the dip of your cupid's bow. 

"'M sorry," you mumble weakly, cheeks hot beneath his touch. Again, you fold beneath the intensity of those honeyed irises. It's a miracle your knees don't buckle when he pushes the pad of his thumb just past your lips, so that it brushes the edges of your teeth. 

"That was your plan. Y'can still give it a try, love. But..." he hums, his voice throaty and quiet and settling in the pit of your stomach. It's embarrassing, the ease with which he figures you out, but his words drip over you, easy and warm, and all you can focus on is the slip of his thumb as he presses the pad against the flat of your tongue. 

"The mask stays on." 

Ghost’s insistence makes you giggle sheepishly and your stomach flip in dread, like a child caught with its hand down a bear trap. Despite the lewdness of him pushing his thumb past your lips, you know that he’s being serious, deathly so. You nod clumsily in recognition of his executive order, and Ghost gently taps the skin of your cheek with his free hand, the soft slap of his palm against your flesh standing your hair on end.

“Go.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighing heavily in the claustrophobic space of the small hallway. It takes a moment for your mind, rendered utterly useless by Ghost’s imposing presence, to understand exactly what he’s implying. Only when he removes his thumb from your mouth to shove you forward towards a bedroom door does his intention become clear.

Oh. Oh!

Scrambling to force your feet forward, they practically float across the threshold of the bedroom door. You can feel Ghost looming just behind you, can practically feel the heat radiating from his chest warming the expanse of your back. Fingers clasp over your shoulder, practically swallow the curved flesh, and shove you back against the bedroom wall.

The force of impact winds you, the air expelled from your lungs swallowed down by Ghost’s lips bearing heavily down upon your own. He’d ripped the mask upwards, the hem of the ski-mask balanced across the bridge of his nose. Simon’s tongue licks into your mouth– intrudes upon the space like he’s kicking down a door, like he’s swallowing the breath he’d expelled from you with his heavy hand. 

Once the dazed dizziness dissipates, you moan in relief at finally getting what you wanted. Ghost’s gigantic paw takes hold of your jaw in a firm grip to fit his mouth perfectly against your own, his swirling fingerprints indenting in the soft flesh there in a mottled bruise. The soft pine he coaxes from you bleeds past your open mouth despite your attempt to suppress the frankly pathetic noise. 

Fuck it, this was worth it– all of it was worth it. The fear of getting it wrong, the anxiety of being caught, the panic that Simon could turn you away… All of it seeps into the darkness in the corners of the room when your superior drags his tongue across your lower lip. It’s though he’s relishing in the taste of the aftershocks of the arousal he sparks between your legs, the dopamine that rushes through you.

“Was this your plan?” Ghost grunts, grasping ahold of the scruff of your neck. Gasping weakly, you’re almost certain your eyes roll back in your head when he uses his harsh grip to steer you towards the bed. “Get me out of my fuckin’ mind so I don’t notice you takin’ off the mask?”

“That’s–” you huff, rendered breathless by Ghost’s intruding tongue, “That’s not it–”

Your pitiful attempt to excuse yourself is made useless when Ghost practically launches you onto the mattress of his bed, the rusted metal frame screaming under the sudden weight of your body. 

“No?” he queries, the usual boom of authority in his voice replaced by something that sounds far more like goading amusement as he places the hefty weight of his palm against your sternum, holding you down and thwarting any attempt to escape. 

He needn’t worry. The last thing you wanted was to leave. 

“Tell you what,” he muses in that smug tone you always hear over the comms, his free hand quick to grasp at the leather of his belt. The buckle clinks in the quiet as he works his fingers over it, “We’ll run through this mission, yeh? See if you can complete your objective, Delta?”

Your retort, or lack thereof, dies in your throat when Ghost pushes his crotch into your own. If it weren’t for the yelp of bliss that the Lieutenant had to smother with his palm, you’d hear the way he’d practically purred when he dragged his cock against you. 

“C’mon then. Try it,” he urged. 

It’s pointless, his mock-support. You just desperately reach for the waistband of his khaki uniform trousers, cockdrunk from the tease of its shape against you. Even in the low light, you can see Ghost’s scarred lips, the way they stretch into a smirk at your desperation. 

“Abandoning mission, Sergeant?” He asks you, unzipping his trousers. “Price’ll be disappointed to know this is all it takes for Delta to go AWOL.”

“Shut up,” you moan into the cold air of the cabin. You can see your breath. “Shut up and fuck me.”

When Simon removed himself from his trousers, making some glib comment about you being demanding, you marvel at the size of him. Girthy, swollen, the ruddy tip leaks precum down the arch of his cock and traces the pulsing veins. He’s rock hard and throbbing, framed by a thatch of pubic hair. 

Fumbling with your own trousers, you awkwardly try to remove them given Simon’s weighty palm still pins you down by your sternum. He watches, a glint in his eye in the low light that would almost embarrass you if you weren’t so focused on the task at hand. 

“What was the prize?” 

“H-Huh?” you stall, mind fried by Ghost’s unexpected line of enquiry. He picks up where you left off, violently yanking your trousers down your thighs and pushing your panties aside to expose your glistening cunt to his prying eyes. 

“What. Was. The. Prize?”

You hesitate for a moment, feeling Ghost’s fingers press against the inside of your thighs as he probes this unexplored territory of you. His touch skirts the areas you want him most, teasing and goading you for more information. “H-Hassa-ahh!”

You barely manage the first syllable of your answer before Simon rests the arch of his cock against your slick pussy lips. His body jerks slightly at the heat of your swollen cunt, the ease with which he can slide himself through your drenched sex. 

“You got to kill Hassan?” he asked for confirmation, his voice unwavering. You wonder how he manages to stay so steady– you’re coming apart at the seams, trembling as the head of his cock bumps your clit clumsily. 

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes rolling back as he continues his laboured, steady torture. His free hand settles on your hip, arching your pelvis up slightly to meet his own. You grind your hips upward against his cock, and Simon expels a soft scoff from lungs, those piercing eyes settled on your contorting expression. 

“Mhmm,” he hums, rolling his hips again. This time it’s even slower, teasing. “A temptin’ reward–” 

Simon is interrupted by the moan that splits your lips when he drags the length of his cock heavily against your clit. It sparks arousal deep in your abdomen, clings to the inside of your thighs wetly. 

Perhaps the disturbance is one transgression too many tonight, because Simon grasps your hips so hard that you are forced to stop gliding over the length of his cock. You pine in protest, but you choke on the pitiful sound when Ghost suddenly plunges his cock inside of you. It spears you open, breaks you apart, and you find your back arching desperately against the mattress. 

The palm that had rooted itself to your sternum flies up to clasp against your mouth, smothering the shriek of bliss that threatened to expose your extracurricular activities to the rest of your squad. You sob through your teeth beneath his life line, tears welling in your eyes as you feel him stretch your walls open to make room for his intrusion. 

You can’t help yourself. You need something to grasp onto, and opt for his wrist above your face. Digging your nails into the inked flesh there, you watch as the pain sparks something dark and twisted in Simon’s pupils, his azure irises swallowed by the expanding blackness.

He likes it. You can tell. His cock arches up inside of you, pushing deep and rocking against something earth shattering inside of you. Damp with sweat already, the skin of his wrist ripples as he tightens his grip on your face, refusing to withdraw from your pussy walls and instead opting for sharp, shallow thrusts that push you up the mattress with each connection of your hips. 

“Fuck,” he spits, using his tight grasp to pull you back towards him. It’s obliterating you, ripping you apart and pushing all your pieces back together in a mangled, jumbled mess. You whimper as you suffer through his brutal pace, marvelling at how good it feels when he consistently spears your g-spot. 

“When would you have done it?” Simon asks you, a little breathless now as he chases the high that begins to build at the edges of your body, tingling and pulsing. 

“Shut up–” you beg him, the low rasp of his voice launching you towards that pleasure that threatens to consume you. Jerking your hips up to meet his, your body mindlessly reacts to the sound of his timbre. 

“Oh, no,” he chuckles, shaking his half masked face. There’s a silver laden scar that stretches across the base of his chin. It matches the one that splits his upper lip to the base of his nose, the ski mask hovering tantalisingly over the bridge. “When?” 

The seriousness of his tone makes your thighs quiver when paired with the sharp thrust he punctuates his question with. Years of training in maintaining a cover-story while a hostage are blown to bits as though Ghost has launched a mortar at your resolve, because suddenly all your state secrets are spilling out of you quicker than you can shove the incriminating words back into your traitor mouth. 

“I’d– Hagh… I’d do it j-just as you’re cummin–hhah!”

“And spoil my fun?” Ghost hums, that heavy timbre licking up your spine and sparking viscous embers at the base of your spine, “Anyone ever told you that you’re very fuckin’ selfish, Delta?” 

You’d offer a witty comment, but Ghost’s angled his hips just right, and your jaw is falling loose to let out a panicked whimper. 

“There it is, shit. Look at you, Sargeant. Fuckin’, you’re so tight–” 

You’re like a slip knot, tightening around him further with each knock of your g-spot with Simon’s ridiculously large cock-head. Prickling tears of bliss threaten to spill over the edge of your waterline, continuing to sting even when you shut your eyes. You’re shaking, trembling beneath his rocking hips as you mewl his name. 

“S-Simon! Fuck–”

Wild, wet squelches of Simon sinking into your soaked cunt echo in your skull as he ramps up his violent thrusts, the springs of his mattress screaming an unmistakable rhythm to anyone walking by. He doesn’t seem to care now though, his eyes zeroed in on your expression like he’s stalking a victim with his sniper scope. Aiming for complete obliteration. 

“C’mon Can feel you squeezin’ round me,” he murmurs, the steady tone he’d offered earlier shuddering slightly as you squeeze impossibly tight around him, coil threatening to snap, “You’re so close, Delta. C’mon, paint my cock an’ I’ll eat you out with my cum in you–” 

                           ✰

“He’s blonde.” 

Gawping jaws drop to the floor at your very simple observation, Soap’s eyes nearly rolling across the uneven, rotten floorboards after falling out of his skull. You can’t help the smug smile that threatens to tug at the edge of your lips, especially given the sensation of Ghost’s eyes boring holes into the back of your skull. 

The awe only worsens when Price gives a subtle nod of confirmation from the corner of the darkened room, crowning you the winner of this utterly ridiculous joust. 

“How do you know?” Gary is as shaken as Soap by the confidence with which you’d offered your final answer, in disbelief as to how you could have possibly obtained it without being maimed, given the egg on his forehead was still throbbing despite days of icing it with the snow from outside the safehouse.

“His pubes are. I assume the curtains match the drapes,” you shrug dismissively. 

The sheer incredulity that flashes across Johnny’s face is utterly hilarious. The smirk that had been threatening to break finally cracks across your lips at the confirmation of your victory. Ghost’s eyes appear to have lazered through your skull, singing brain matter with the ferocity of his scowl. Frankly, you couldn’t care less– you can see it in your mind's eye; the gorgeous contrast of a blood-red crosshair settling across Hassan’s forehead, the weight of the trigger beneath your finger as you pull it back.

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[aeralux]

"I'd Rather Be With You (Too)" - Lucerys Velaryon

Modern!Lucerys Velaryon x Reader (part one here)

Summary: "People have a way of leaving. Best to not let anyone close." This is the saying Lucerys lived his whole life by. Keeping others at a distance even if it hurts both him and others. Why should you be the exception? It seems you might be the exception.

Warnings: SMUT 18+; sad boy Lucerys; oral (f! receiving); fingering; soft sex; angst; creampie; fluff; blowjob; a certain blonde getting knocked out; smoking

Words: 15k

Notes: No description of the reader. It came out long but it's literally full of them interacting idk (again). I am not responsible for the media you consume. 7k words of angst and Lucerys finally expressing himself, then 8k words of smut. Enjoy

Lucerys stood at the edge of the cliffs overlooking the sea, his hood pulled up against the misty rain. The salty breeze whipped at his cheeks as he stared at the horizon, watching the sun slowly rise over the watery expanse. His heart felt heavy in his chest, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a physical burden.

He knew leaving you had been selfish, but he couldn't bear the thought of watching you walk away eventually. It was better to cut ties before he lost himself entirely in the depths of his growing feelings for you.

As the sun climbed higher, casting a golden glow across the waves, Lucerys turned away from the sea. He walked slowly back towards home, his footsteps heavy and leaden. He knew he'd have to face you eventually, to explain himself.

But for now, he couldn't bring himself to go back, to see the confusion and hurt that would surely be etched across your lovely face.

There was Jacaerys, already out, pushing the lawnmower back and forth across the thick green grass. The family dogs raced around the yard, barking loudly as if they were excited for the day ahead. Jacaerys caught a glimpse of his brother from the corner of his eye. At first, a scowl formed on his face, but it quickly transformed into a look of concern when he noticed the troubled expression on his younger brother's face.

"Hey man, what happened? Where were you all night? Mum was worried sick," he asked, stepping forward and placing his hands gently on Lucerys’s shoulders to stop him in his tracks. Although he was older, Lucerys had already grown taller, which made the interaction feel a little awkward.

Lucerys let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the night still resting on his shoulders. He didn’t want to dive into the details, especially not about the person who had been on his mind for hours. 

"I'm fine," he muttered, trying to brush past Jacaerys, but his brother’s raised eyebrow made him pause. Jacaerys didn’t press any further. There was something in Lucerys' eyes that told him there was more to the story, but he chose to let his younger brother have his space for now.

For days, Lucerys had been distant and withdrawn, as if a fog had settled over him. His family noticed the change, exchanging worried glances when he entered a room. His friends, usually able to draw him out, were puzzled by his silence. This new quietness felt different, heavier. He barely even spoke to his brothers, whose playful banter now seemed to echo off a wall he had built around himself, leaving everyone uneasy.

You had spent countless days searching for him, but it felt like he had completely disappeared after that stormy night, leaving you trapped in heavy silence. You felt isolated and abandoned. Glorina had noticed the change in you. She worried as she watched you eat less and spend all day cooped up inside, only to venture out to the docks at night, searching for someone who might never return.

You barely spoke to her, and each day that passed filled you with guilt, but the truth was that Lucerys had shattered something deep inside you. You needed him to come back and mend what was broken.

How could he have looked at you with such warmth? How could he have held you so closely, with a tenderness that made you believe everything would be alright? And then, just like that, he vanished, leaving nothing but unanswered questions and a growing emptiness. You felt a desperate need for him to explain, to heal your wound.

After wandering through the small town again, your heart felt heavy with each step. The familiar streets now seemed foreign and blank. But then, in the distance, you spotted a figure—brown curly hair peeking out from beneath a dark hoodie. Your heart raced, pounding loudly in your chest as you hurried towards him. “Lucerys,” you choked out, your voice barely a whisper as you got close enough for him to hear.

But as you reached him, your heart sank. Instead of Lucerys, it was his older brother standing there, wearing an unamused expression that only deepened your sense of disappointment.

You stood frozen, your breath catching in your throat as Jacaerys turned to face you. His expression softened slightly when he registered the look on your face—a mix of desperation and heartbreak you couldn’t hide.

“You’re looking for Lucerys,” he said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Do you know where he is?”

Jacaerys sighed, shaking his head as if he were deciding how much to tell you. “Look, he’s been… different lately. Distant.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You have something to do with that, don’t you?”

His question wasn’t accusatory, but it wasn’t kind, either. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Jacaerys frowned, stepping closer. “Listen,” he said, his voice lower now, “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but Lucerys doesn’t need this right now. He’s got enough to deal with without… whatever this is.”

You felt your frustration rise, the sting of his words hitting harder than you expected. “Whatever this is?” you repeated, your voice trembling. “I care about him. I just want to talk to him—”

“To do what?” Jacaerys interrupted, his tone sharp. “To pull him in deeper? To make him care about you even more before you leave town and break his heart?”

His words struck a nerve, and you flinched, the truth you’d been avoiding suddenly laid bare. “That’s not what I’m trying to do,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jacaerys’s gaze softened slightly, but his expression remained firm. “Then do him a favour and leave him alone.”

The weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders, and for a moment, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. But before you could respond, the sound of a door slamming open behind Jacaerys cut through the tension like a knife.

“Jace!” Lucerys’s voice rang out, sharp and angry. “What the hell are you doing?”

Your heart lurched as Lucerys stepped outside, his green eyes blazing with fury as they flicked between you and his brother. His hair was messy, and he looked like he hadn’t slept, but the fire in his expression was undeniable.

Jacaerys turned to face his younger brother, his stance shifting to match Lucerys’s intensity. “I’m trying to protect you, Luke,” he said evenly.

Lucerys scoffed, stepping closer. “By what? Telling her to leave? Acting like I can’t make my own decisions?”

“She’s going to hurt you, Lucerys,” Jacaerys shot back, his voice rising.

“I’m not a child anymore!” Lucerys shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “I can make my own decisions. And if I get hurt, that’s my problem—not yours!”

The rawness in his voice made your chest tighten, and you took a hesitant step forward. “Lucerys—”

He turned to you, his expression softening for just a moment before the walls went back up. “Why are you here?” he asked, his voice quieter but still tense.

“Because I needed to see you,” you said honestly, your voice trembling. “I needed to understand why you left. Why you just… disappeared.”

Lucerys ran a hand through his curls, his frustration evident. “I—” he started, then stopped, his gaze darting to Jacaerys as if trying to decide how much he could say with his brother standing there.

Jacaerys sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Fine,” he muttered. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.”

He brushed past Lucerys, throwing you a pointed look before disappearing back into the house.

For a moment, the only sound was the distant crash of waves and the faint barking of dogs from the backyard.

“I didn’t mean to disappear,” Lucerys said finally, his voice barely audible. “I just… I couldn’t stay.”

You stepped closer, your hands trembling as you reached for him. “Why not?”

“Because you make me lose control,” he admitted, his green eyes locking onto yours. “And I can’t afford that. I can’t—” He broke off, shaking his head as if trying to push the words away.

“You can’t afford to feel something real?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Because that’s what this is, Lucerys. It’s real.”

He stared at you, his jaw tightening as he fought against the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Real doesn’t mean it won’t fall apart,” he said bitterly. “It doesn’t mean you’ll stay.”

“Then let me decide that,” you said, stepping closer until there was almost no space between you. “Stop pushing me away because you’re scared.”

Lucerys closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of everything he’d been carrying had finally become too much. “I don’t know how to stop,” he whispered.

The vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache, and you reached out, your hand brushing lightly against his. “Then let me help you,” you said softly. “We can figure it out together.”

Lucerys opened his eyes, and for a moment, you saw the walls crumble—the fear, the longing, and the fragile hope he’d been trying so hard to hide.

But just as quickly, he pulled away, taking a step back. “I don’t know if I can,” he said quietly.

You watched him retreat, your heart breaking all over again as the distance between you grew.

Lucerys stood still, his green eyes flickering with a mix of fear and frustration. You could see the storm brewing behind them, the turmoil he was trying so hard to keep contained.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp. He took a step back, putting more space between you, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

Your heart clenched, but you refused to let him shut you out. “Why not? What are you so afraid of, Lucerys?”

His laugh was bitter, almost a scoff. “You don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t know who I am—who my family is.”

“I know enough,” you shot back, your voice trembling. “I know you’re kind. I know you care more than you want people to believe. I know you—”

“You don’t!” he interrupted, his voice rising. His expression twisted into something close to anguish. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a Velaryon in this town. People see us, and they see trouble. They see a family of screw-ups who can’t do anything right.”

“I don’t see that,” you said firmly, your own voice cracking with the weight of your emotions.

“Maybe not now,” he said bitterly. “But you will. Everyone does.”

You stared at him, your chest aching with frustration and hurt. “Why do you care so much about what other people think? You’re not them, Lucerys.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes darting away from yours. “It’s not just what they think. It’s what’s true.” He paused, his hands clenching tighter. “Jace and I—we’ve done things. We’ve had to. My friends… they’re not exactly saints. You don’t belong anywhere near us.”

“Is this about your friends?” you asked, stepping closer despite the tension radiating from him. “Or is this about you?”

Lucerys flinched, your words hitting deeper than you’d expected. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading “They’re into things—illegal things. And I’m not—” He stopped, running a hand through his curls. “I’m not perfect either, okay? I’ve made mistakes. I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

“And you think that makes you unworthy?” you asked, your voice soft but steady. “You think that makes you less deserving of someone who cares about you?”

Lucerys didn’t answer, his jaw tightening as his gaze dropped to the ground.

“I don’t care about the mistakes you’ve made,” you continued, stepping closer. “I care about you. The you who’s standing right here, right now. The you who’s scared to let someone in because you’ve been hurt before.”

“That’s not the only reason,” he muttered, his voice so low you almost missed it.

“Then tell me the real reason,” you pressed, desperation creeping into your tone. “Stop hiding behind your family and your friends and your reputation. Tell me what you’re so scared of, Lucerys.”

He finally looked up, his green eyes blazing with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. “I’m scared of harming you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m scared that if you get too close, I’ll ruin you the way I ruin everything else.”

The raw honesty in his voice left you breathless. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest.

“You won’t ruin me,” you said softly, stepping closer until you were just a breath away. “You’re not the monster you think you are, Lucerys. You’re just… scared. And I get that. But you don’t have to push me away because of it.”

Lucerys stared at you, his expression a mix of longing and despair. “You don’t understand what you’re asking,” he said quietly. “You think you can just fix me, but you can’t. I’m not some… broken thing you can put back together.”

“I’m not trying to fix you,” you said firmly, your voice trembling. “I just want to be here for you. If you let me.”

He looked away again, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his own thoughts. “And when you realise I’m not worth it?”

You reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his. “Then I’ll let you be the one to decide that,” you said softly.

Lucerys let out a shaky breath, his green eyes searching yours. For a moment, it seemed like he might let you in.

But then he shook his head, stepping back once more. “I don’t know if I can,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I don’t know how to let someone in without losing everything.”

The anguish in his voice brought tears to your eyes, but you refused to look away. “Then let me show you how,” you said, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “Let me prove that you don’t have to lose everything to have something real.”

Lucerys didn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the ground. But this time, he didn’t take another step back. He stayed rooted in place, the cracks in his defences growing wider with every passing second.

And though the storm between you hadn’t yet passed, you could feel the first rays of hope breaking through the clouds.

"C'mon," Luke said, nodding towards the road, and you followed him, away from his house. He reached into the back pocket of his faded jeans and pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds, the familiar red and white packaging crinkling slightly in his hand. "Smoke?" he offered, a hint of a smile on his face.

You didn't really smoke—not regularly, anyway—but something about the moment made you want to connect with him. "Sure," you replied, hoping it didn’t sound too eager. 

Without hesitation, he flicked the lighter, the flame dancing briefly before catching the tip of your cigarette. He watched as you took your first drag, his gaze lingering on your lips before meeting your eyes.

As you exhaled, the smoke curled between you, a shared breath of something unspoken. "Sorry," you whispered, feeling slightly embarrassed.

He shook his head, leaning back against the cool wall of the corner store, a casual stance that made him seem more relaxed, even charming.

"Is Jacaerys right?"

You paused...

"Yeah... I am leaving at the end of the summer..." You trailed off, inhaling the smoke again as a soft breeze ruffled your hair, carrying the scent of the city mixed with a hint of your own nervousness.

Lucerys’s relaxed posture stiffened slightly at your words. He glanced away, his jaw tightening as he took a long drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring briefly in the dim light. When he exhaled, the smoke curled around him, hazy and uncertain, much like the emotions swirling between you.

“So that’s it, then,” he said, his voice low but edged with bitterness. “You’re just gonna leave. Like everyone else.”

His words hit you harder than you’d expected. You blinked, caught off guard by the sharpness in his tone. “Lucerys, it’s not like that,” you said quickly, your voice trembling.

“Isn’t it?” He turned to face you fully, his green eyes blazing with something raw and unfiltered. “You say it’s not, but that’s exactly what’s happening, isn’t it? You’ll leave, and I’ll still be here, stuck in this place.”

“That doesn’t mean what I feel for you isn’t real,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of his accusation. “Just because I have to leave doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he dropped the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot. “That’s what they all say,” he muttered. “They all say they care, that it’s real. And then they leave. Every damn time.”

“I’m not them!” you shot back, your frustration boiling over. “I’m not your dad, or your friends, or whoever else left you behind. I’m here now, Lucerys.”

“Yeah, now,” he snapped, his voice rising. “But not later. Not when it matters.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between you, the tension thick enough to cut. You could see the pain in his eyes, the fear he was trying so hard to mask with anger.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “I don’t want to be another person who lets you down. But I don’t know how to change what’s happening. I can’t just… stay.”

“Then don’t pretend this means anything,” he said harshly, his voice breaking at the edges.

You flinched, his words cutting deeper than he probably intended. “It does mean something,” you insisted, your voice trembling. “It means everything to me.”

Lucerys looked at you then, his green eyes searching yours as if trying to find the truth in your words. For a moment, the fire in his gaze softened, replaced by something far more fragile.

“But you’re still leaving,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “I don’t want to. But I don’t have a choice.”

He let out a shaky breath, raking a hand through his curls. “There’s always a choice,” he murmured, though he didn’t sound like he believed it.

The silence between you was deafening, the words you both wanted to say hanging in the air, unspoken. Finally, Lucerys turned away, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his emotions.

“Go ahead and say it,” he muttered, his voice bitter but hollow. “Say 'you’ll miss me'. Say 'you’ll never forget me'. It doesn’t matter.”

You stepped closer, reaching out to touch his arm. “It does matter,” you said softly, your voice trembling with the weight of your feelings. “Lucerys, you matter to me.”

He froze under your touch, his breath hitching. For a moment, it felt like the barriers he’d built around himself might crumble entirely. But then he shook his head, stepping out of your reach.

“I can’t do this,” he said, his voice cracking. “I can’t watch you leave. I just… I can’t.”

“Lucerys—”

“No,” he interrupted, his tone sharp but unsteady. “Just… don’t. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

"Just go ahead and leave."

And before you could say anything else, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the night and leaving you standing there, your heart breaking into pieces, all over again.

Lucerys walked quickly, his boots crunching against the gravel road as he put as much distance as he could between himself and you. His chest ached, a deep, suffocating pain that refused to go away, no matter how hard he tried to push it down.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his fingers brushing against the crumpled cigarette pack. His mind raced, every word you’d said replaying in his head like a song stuck on repeat.

You matter to me.

Your voice lingered, soft and trembling, but full of conviction. It had felt like a lifeline, something he wanted to grab onto, to believe in. But the fear… the fear of losing you, of losing himself, had been stronger.

“Stupid,” he muttered under his breath, his voice bitter. “So fucking stupid.”

He wanted to turn back, to find you and tell you he didn’t mean it, that he didn’t want you to leave, that he didn’t want to be alone again. But his feet kept moving forward, away from you, as if they were acting on their own.

Because deep down, he knew he wasn’t enough.

He wasn’t enough to make you stay.

He wasn’t enough to deserve the way you looked at him like he was something worth saving.

Lucerys clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists inside his pockets. The anger simmered beneath the surface, not at you, but at himself—at the boy who could never seem to hold onto anything good.

When he finally stopped walking, he found himself standing at the edge of the cliffs overlooking the ocean. The waves crashed against the rocks below, loud and unforgiving, their rhythm steady and endless.

Lucerys stared out at the horizon, his breath uneven as he tried to quiet the storm inside him. The wind whipped at his curls, and the salty spray of the sea clung to his skin, but he barely noticed.

He pulled the pack of Marlboros from his pocket, his hands trembling as he fished out a cigarette. The lighter flickered in the wind, the flame struggling to hold on before finally catching.

As he took a long drag, the burn in his chest distracted him from the ache in his heart, if only for a moment. He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around him and disappearing into the night air.

“This is for the best,” he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible over the roar of the waves.

If he let himself believe in you, in what you’d said, it would only make the pain worse when you left. And you would leave. Everyone always did.

It was easier this way—cutting the cord now before it could wrap around his throat and choke him.

But as the minutes stretched on, Lucerys couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind. The way your eyes had shimmered with tears, the way your voice had cracked when you’d told him he mattered.

It wasn’t fair.

He let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his curls as he paced along the edge of the cliff.

“Damn it,” he muttered the words barely a growl.

He dropped the cigarette, grinding it into the dirt with his boot. The frustration boiled over, his emotions spilling out as he kicked at a loose rock, sending it tumbling into the sea below.

Lucerys pressed his hands to his face, his fingers digging into his skin as he fought the urge to scream.

He hated this. Hated the way he felt, hated the way you made him feel. Like maybe, just maybe, he was worth something. But he wasn’t.

At least, that’s what he told himself as he sank to the ground, his back resting against the jagged rocks behind him.

The waves continued their relentless rhythm, drowning out the sound of his uneven breathing. Lucerys sat there, his heart heavy with regret and the unbearable weight of what could have been.

You were lost, stuck in a whirlpool of thoughts. Leaving him felt impossible, yet staying seemed even worse. This place—this wasn’t your home.

You slid down the rough wall of the store he had walked away from, feeling the cool concrete against your back. Tears seeped down your cheeks, unchecked and warm. The cigarette he had given you was only a stub now, but you still cradled it in your fingers, as if it were the last trace of him you’d ever have.

Was this it? The final moment you both shared?

Maybe dropping the bomb that you were leaving right when he was starting to accept you back was a mistake. But you didn’t want to be dishonest. It hurt more to pretend when you knew you’d eventually walk away, leaving him behind.

"You alright?" A voice knocked you from your thoughts. It wasn't the one you wanted to hear—definitely not. Looking up, you saw a guy with short blonde hair and a cashier name-tag that read Aegon. 

"No," you muttered, your tone flat and honest. You figured he wouldn’t really care either way.

"I saw that little fight of yours with your boyfriend," he said with a chuckle, a smirk playing on his lips. 

"Not my boyfriend," you shot back, bitterness creeping in.

"Right, whatever. But man, that was one of the more entertaining things I’ve seen in a while," he said, lighting up his own cigarette and taking a long drag, the smoke swirling around him. He coughed lightly, then continued, seemingly unfazed.

"You should be glad he’s not your boyfriend though. Stabbed my brother's eye out when we were kids, yeah... brutal stuff." He sighed, but there was a strange twinkle of amusement in his eyes as if he found the memory funny.

You stared at him, bewildered. He didn’t notice your confusion or maybe just didn’t care as he rambled on.

"Yeah, his friends are into moving dope around the city. Not him, though. But, I mean, how long until it's up his nose too, right?" He laughed as if he’d just shared a hilarious joke rather than dropping some serious dirt about his mates. 

"Right..." you dragged the word out, looking down to focus on the ground, trying to shake off the weight of what he had just said.

"Best forget about that lad, you’re way too pretty for him anyway," he tossed over his shoulder with a wink before sauntering back inside. You were left sitting there, alone with your swirling mix of emotions and the unsettling new pieces of information. Was this what Luke was trying to keep from you?

You needed to find him.

The air felt heavier than usual as you stepped out into the early evening, the fading sunlight casting a muted golden glow over the small town. The last few days had passed in a blur—your thoughts endlessly looping back to Lucerys, the fight, and Aegon’s careless words.

You hadn’t seen Lucerys since that night. No matter how many times you’d wandered near the docks or the places he might haunt, he was always just out of reach, like a shadow you couldn’t catch. It left you hollow, the ache of missing him growing stronger with each passing day.

Tonight, though, you’d let Glorina talk you into going out. She’d called it a “gathering,” though it was clear from the noise spilling into the street that it was just a casual get-together at one of the local bars.

The bar was crowded and buzzing with laughter, the sound of clinking glasses and faint music filling the space. You hadn’t meant to stay this long, but Glorina had been insistent that you “go out and have a little fun.” And now here you were, nursing a watered-down drink and trying to navigate the polite conversation with a guy whose name you only vaguely remembered.

Aegon, you thought, watching as he leaned casually against the bar, a devil-may-care smirk plastered across his face.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “you’re too gorgeous to be sitting here looking all serious. Someone break your heart?”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink. “I’m fine,” you said, your tone clipped, though his boldness made it hard to hide a small, amused smile.

Aegon grinned, leaning in slightly. “That smile says otherwise. Bet I could make you forget whatever’s got you looking so lost.”

“I’m not lost,” you replied, but there was an edge of annoyance in your voice now.

From across the room, Lucerys watched the interaction like a predator tracking its prey. His green eyes narrowed, his grip on his beer glass so tight it threatened to shatter. Jacaerys and Joffrey sat beside him, trying to engage him in conversation, but Lucerys barely heard a word.

“Luke?” Jacaerys nudged his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “You good?”

Lucerys didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed firmly on you and Aegon, his chest tightening as he watched the blonde lean in closer, his smirk widening with every passing second.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Without a word, Lucerys stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he pushed it back. Jacaerys and the others looked up in surprise, but Lucerys was already moving, his strides purposeful and quick as he crossed the room.

You barely had time to register Lucerys’ approach before it happened. One moment, Aegon was leaning in, his hand casually brushing against yours on the bar. The next, he was stumbling backwards, Lucerys’s hand on his chest as he shoved him hard.

“What the hell?” Aegon barked, catching himself against the edge of a table.

Lucerys didn’t reply. His fist flew before you could even process what was happening, connecting with Aegon’s jaw in a sharp, brutal motion. The crack of bone echoed above the noise of the bar, and Aegon staggered, clutching his face.

“Lucerys!” you shouted, grabbing his arm to pull him back, but he was like a live wire, his whole body trembling with adrenaline and anger.

“What’s your problem, man?” Aegon spat, straightening up and wiping a smear of blood from his lip.

“You,” Lucerys growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Stay the hell away from her.”

Aegon laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. “Jealous much? Didn’t realize she was your property.”

Lucerys lunged forward again, but you stepped between them, pressing your hands against his chest. “Stop it, Lucerys!” you pleaded, your voice trembling.

For a moment, Lucerys didn’t move, his green eyes locked onto Aegon’s with a searing intensity. Then, slowly, he let out a sharp breath, his muscles relaxing under your touch.

“Yeah, walk away,” Aegon muttered, smirking despite the pain. “Big man with your cheap punches.”

Lucerys didn’t react, but you felt the tension radiating off him as you guided him toward the door. The bar was eerily quiet now, all eyes on the two of you as you stepped outside into the cool night air.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded once you were out of earshot, turning to face him.

Lucerys raked a hand through his curls, pacing in front of you like a caged animal. “He was all over you,” he snapped, his voice low but sharp.

“He wasn’t doing anything,” you argued, your voice rising. “He was just talking to me!”

“Talking?” Lucerys scoffed, his green eyes blazing. “That’s what you call that? I saw the way he was looking at you, the way he was touching you—”

You cut him off, your frustration boiling over. “Why do you even care, Lucerys? You’re the one who keeps pushing me away!”

The words seemed to hit him like a physical blow, and he stopped pacing, his chest heaving as he stared at you. “Because I can’t stand it,” he said finally, his voice raw and trembling. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you—to him, to anyone.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, but your own anger and hurt kept you from softening entirely. “Then stop pushing me away,” you said, your voice cracking. “Stop acting like you don’t care when we both know you do!”

Lucerys looked at you, his green eyes filled with a mix of longing and fear. And then, before you could say anything else, he grabbed your face and pulled you close.

Your foreheads rested together as the world around you seemed to fade away. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

“Then stop running,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

Lucerys closed his eyes, his grip on you tightening like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

“So am I,” you whispered. “But I’m not going anywhere, Lucerys. Not unless you push me away again.”

He let out a shaky breath, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly, as if letting go would shatter him completely.

Lucerys held you tightly, his breath uneven as his forehead rested against yours. The warmth of his body anchored you, but you could feel the storm raging inside him, the walls he was still trying so desperately to keep standing.

You couldn’t let this moment pass without saying what had been sitting heavy on your chest for days.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your admission.

Lucerys pulled back slightly, his green eyes narrowing in confusion. “Know what?”

You hesitated, your fingers still gripping the fabric of his hoodie. “I know about your past. What you’ve done. What your friends are into.”

The shift in his posture was immediate. His body stiffened, his jaw tightening as his gaze dropped. “Who told you?” he asked, his voice low and sharp.

“You mentioned it briefly, but... Aegon,” you admitted quietly, watching as his expression darkened. “He didn’t say much—just enough for me to put the pieces together.”

Lucerys let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he stepped back, breaking the fragile connection between you. “Of course he did,” he muttered. “Bet he loved twisting the knife.”

“It wasn’t like that,” you said, leaning toward him, but he held up a hand, stopping you.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said flatly. “You know now. So what are you still doing here?”

“Because I care about you,” you said, your voice cracking with emotion. “I care about who you are, not what you’ve done.”

Lucerys laughed again, harsher this time, the sound cutting through you like glass. “You say that now, but you don’t get it. You don’t know the things I’ve done—the people I’ve been around. My friends, the shit they’re into… that’s my world. You don’t belong in it.”

“Maybe I don’t know everything,” you admitted, stepping closer. “But I don’t care about any of that, Lucerys. I care about you.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his curls. “You don’t understand what you’re saying. You think this is some fairytale where I can just walk away from everything and be good enough for you?” He turned away, his shoulders tense. “I can’t. I’ll just destroy you like I destroy everything else.”

“You won’t,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill.

He turned back to you, his green eyes blazing with anger and anguish. “You don’t know that!” he snapped. “People like me don’t get to have happy endings.”

The line hit you like a blow, the raw pain in his voice cutting deep. But you didn’t back down.

“Good men die too,” you said softly, your voice trembling as you met his gaze. “I’d rather be with you.”

Lucerys stared at you, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. The words you’d just spoken hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

Good men die too, I’d rather be with you.

He wanted to believe you, to let himself fall into the promise of those words, but his fear twisted into something darker. He turned away, running a hand through his curls as if trying to erase the weight of the moment.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he muttered, his voice low and tense. “You think I’m just some kid with a bad temper? My family... You have no idea what my family’s like.”

You took a cautious step closer, your heart pounding in the still, eerie quiet. “Then tell me the truth, Lucerys. Stop shutting me out.”

He laughed bitterly, the sound devoid of humour. “You really want the truth?” he said, his hand clenching into a tight fist, shaking with the weight of his anger. “The truth is, my mom keeps a gun in the kitchen drawer, not just for show. She doesn’t trust a soul in this town. My brothers and I learned to shoot before we learned how to ride bikes because in this town... because 'we needed to know how to defend ourselves'." He exhaled sharply, his shoulders stiff. “That’s my family. That’s the world I come from. You don’t belong anywhere near it.”

The confession left you breathless, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy fog. You could see the fear and anger he’d been hiding spilling out in jagged fragments.

“That doesn’t scare me,” you said quietly, taking another step toward him.

He turned to face you, his green eyes blazing. “It should!” he snapped. “God, it should! You think you can just walk into my life and fix this? Fix me?”

“No,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “I don’t think I can fix you, Lucerys. But I’m not scared of you or your family, and I’m not running away!”

He let out a sharp breath, his gaze dropping to the ground. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice softening but losing none of its edge. “I don’t want you to end up like them. Bitter. Angry. Always looking over your shoulder, wondering if the people around you will stick a knife in your back.”

You hesitated, the rawness in his voice making your chest ache. “That’s not going to happen,” you said softly. “You’re not like them, Lucerys. I see the good in you, even if you can’t.”

“You’re going to regret this,” he said quietly, his voice trembling.

“No,” you replied, your voice steady. “The only thing I’d regret is walking away from you.”

Lucerys stared at you, his jaw tightening as his emotions warred within him. And then, like a dam breaking, he grabbed your face and kissed you, his hands trembling as they cradled your cheeks.

The kiss was desperate, almost frantic, his lips moving against yours like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t put into words. You melted into him, your hands clutching at his hoodie as the tension between you finally broke.

Lucerys kissed you with a fierce intensity, his trembling hands gripping your face tightly as if trying to pour every unspoken fear and desire into the desperate press of his lips against yours. The heat of his skin, the rapid pulse of his heartbeat against your chest, the shaky gasps of breath he took between kisses—it was all a testament to the turmoil raging inside him. He couldn't run from this, from you, anymore. Not when every fibre of his being screamed at him to pull you closer.

You gazed up at Lucerys, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you shook your head in amused exasperation. "You're so stupid," you sighed, your thumb brushing lightly over his kiss-swollen lip. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the slight tremble that still lingered there. "So stupid if you think you can push me away that easily."

Leaning in, you captured his lips in another kiss, this one softer, more deliberate. You savoured the taste of him, the way his mouth moved against yours with a newfound sense of desperation. Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the racing beat of his heart beneath your palms.

You poured all your own fears and hopes into the kiss, wanting him to feel the depth of your trust. You weren't going anywhere, no matter how much he might want to run. You were here, and you were choosing him.

As you pulled back, you looked into his eyes, your own shining with unshed tears and unspoken promises. "You can't scare me off, Lucerys," you whispered, your voice low and fierce.

Lucerys stared down at you, his green eyes wide with a mix of awe and disbelief. Your words, spoken with such fierce conviction, seemed to penetrate the walls he'd built around his heart. He could feel them chipping away, could feel the cracks letting in the light of your unwavering faith in him.

A single tear slipped down his cheek as he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheekbones. "You're crazy," he whispered, a hint of wonder in his voice. "Crazy to want to be with someone like me."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours as he tried to gather the courage to say what he needed to say. Lucerys took a deep, shuddering breath, his hands trembling as they cradled your face.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "But I know I can't let you go." He buried his face in your hair and breathed in your scent. "Stay with me," he murmured, his arms tightening around you like a lifeline. "Don't let me push you away. Please."

Your heart swelled as Lucerys's words washed over me, his raw, trembling confession striking you right in the chest. You gazed up at him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears, as a single one slid down your cheek.

"I'll stay with you," I breathed out, my voice cracking with the force of my emotion. "I know no that I can't be without you, Lucerys."

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck as sobs wracked your body.

Lucerys held you tightly, his own tears flowing freely now as he felt your body shake against his. He stroked your hair, and your back, murmuring words of love and reassurance as he rocked you gently. "Shh, I've got you," he soothed, his voice thick with emotion. "I've got you, my love. I'm not going anywhere."

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, breathing in your scent, letting it calm and centre him.

You crashed your lips against his in a fiery, desperate kiss, throwing your arms around his neck like a woman possessed. Your fingers raked through his messy curls, gripping them tightly as if you could anchor yourself to him forever. The kiss was sloppy, passionate, a messy tangle of lips and tongues and pent-up emotion.

You nipped at his bottom lip, soothing the sting with your tongue before diving back in for more. Your nails dug into the skin of his neck, no doubt leaving marks, claiming him, branding him as mine. You wanted him to feel the force of your desire. To make him believe how much you truly needed him.

Lucerys groaned as you attacked his mouth, your affection igniting a fire in his veins. His hands gripped your waist tightly, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back with equal fervour. He could feel your nails digging into his skin, leaving delicious marks of possession. It only spurred him on, urging him to claim you just as thoroughly.

When you broke the kiss, he was left panting, his eyes glazed over with lust. He rested his forehead against yours. "You're going to be the death of me." He nipped at your jaw, your neck, marking you in turn. "But what a way to go," he murmured, his lips brushing your skin.

You looked up at Lucerys through tear-streaked lashes, your heart fluttering in your chest. With a tender touch, you brushed away the tears clinging to his cheeks, your thumb lingering on his skin. A soft, shy smile played on your lips as you met his intense, love-drunk gaze.

Lucerys's breath caught in his throat at your tender touch, his heart swelling with a love so profound it almost hurt. He leaned into your caress, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savoured the gentle brush of your thumb against his skin. A slow, soft smile spread across his face, mirroring your own.

Opening his eyes, Lucerys gazed at you with a look of pure adoration, his purple irises shimmering with unshed tears and a love so intense it stole your breath away. He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours as he inhaled deeply, committing your scent to memory.

"I want to show you how sorry I am," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. "Words have never been my strong suit, but I want to try. You wanna come to my place?" He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, never having done this before.

He glanced towards the bar, where the sounds of laughter and music still emanated. "I'll make sure my brothers stay out longer. Jace and Joff will be entertained at the bar for hours. And even if they do come home..." Lucerys shrugged, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "Who cares. I just want to be alone with you, to show you how much you mean to me."

He held out his hand, his eyes searching yours with a vulnerability. "Please, come with me."

Clinging to his side, you let your smaller hand slip into his larger, calloused one. The contrast of your hands, and your bodies, sent a thrill through you.

"Alright, I'll come with you..." you sighed, your voice soft. You pressed yourself closer, your hip against his thigh as you tilted your head to meet his gaze. "But you're sure your brothers won't come home early and interrupt our... private time?" you giggled somewhat nervously but still sounded like a siren's call to him.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as he gazed down at you with a grin. "Trust me, love, they won't be back anytime soon. Jace and Joff are too busy being the life of the party to call it a night early." His thumb tracing lazy circles on your hip. "Besides, I've got a few ideas to keep us umm... occupied." His voice dropped to a husky whisper, his eyes glinting with promise.

You followed Lucerys out in the crisp night air, content to walk beside him in the comfortable silence. Occasionally, you found yourself stealing glances at his handsome profile, admiring the strong line of his jaw and how his messy curls fell over his forehead.

As you walked, you let your fingers trace idle patterns on his arm, feeling the firm muscle beneath his hoodie. You were acutely aware of every point where your bodies touched - his hand holding yours, his thigh brushing against your hip with each step.

Lucerys glanced down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he caught you staring. He squeezed your hand gently, bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. "You're beautiful," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "I hope you know that." He kept walking, keeping you close to his side as he led you through the quiet streets.

Your cheeks tingled with his sweet words. "I don't mind you reminding me," you breathed out, a small, coy smile on your lips. 

Lucerys chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled down at you. "Good, because I plan to remind you often," he teased, his voice low and warm.

After a short while, you arrived at a big house, the architecture reminiscent of the past. Lucerys led you inside, closing the heavy wooden door behind you. The entryway was dimly lit, with a narrow staircase leading to the second floor. He turned to face you, his hands resting on your waist.

Lucerys gazed down at you, his green eyes darkening with an intensity that made your heart race. "Welcome to my home," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Well, technically, my family's home. But for now, it's ours." He stepped closer, one hand sliding to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. "I want to take you upstairs to my room. I want to... I want to make love to you."

Your heart stopped as his words washed over you, a shiver running down your spine. He wanted to make love to you. Like he was finally letting you in, truly letting you see the real him.

You could only nod slowly. "Uhuh," you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper. You couldn't form any other words, rendered speechless by the raw emotion in Lucerys' eyes.

Your hands came to rest on his shoulders, feeling the firmness of his muscles even through his hoodie.

Lucerys gazed down at you, his heart swelling with a love so profound it almost hurt. He could see the desire and trust shining in your eyes, filling him with awe and wonder. Slowly, gently, he leaned down and captured your lips in a soft, tender kiss. His hand slid into your hair, cradling your head as he deepened the kiss, pouring all his love and longing into it. He wanted you to feel it, to understand the depth of his feelings for you.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "I love you," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I love you so much." He pressed another soft kiss to your lips before scooping you into his arms, carrying you bridal style up the narrow staircase. He held you close, protective and possessive, as he navigated the darkened hallways of the old house.

Stopping in front of a heavy wooden door, he kicked it open, revealing a spacious bedroom decorated in rich, cool tones. A large four-poster bed dominated the room, the sheets already turned down invitingly. Lucerys carried you to the bed, laying you down gently on the soft mattress.

Your heart raced as you gazed up at Lucerys, your cheeks flushed and eyes bright with anticipation. Slowly, almost shyly, you slid your jacket off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a soft rustle. Next went your shirt, leaving you in jeans and a black lacy bra.

You sat up on your elbows, your hair spilling over your shoulders as you looked at him. You wanted to see him, to feel his skin against yours. Your fingers itched with the need to explore his body, to map out every inch of him.

"Your turn," you whispered, your voice breathy with desire. You tilted your head, a coy smile playing on your lips as you waited for him to bare himself to you.

Slowly, almost reverently, he reached for the hem of his hoodie, pulling it up and over his head. He tossed it aside carelessly, leaving him in a thin white t-shirt that clung to his lean, muscular frame. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, his skin flushed and warm.

He stepped closer to the bed, his hands coming to the hem of his shirt. He paused, his eyes locked with yours, before slowly, teasingly, he peeled the shirt up and off. He tossed it to the side, leaving him bare from the waist up. His chest was lean and toned, with a light dusting of hair trailing down his stomach. A thin scar ran across his collarbone, a memento from a childhood adventure gone wrong. But it only added to his rugged, masculine appeal.

Your heart fluttered as you admired him. You could feel the heat pooling between your thighs.

Sitting up, you reached for the button of your jeans, your fingers trembling slightly as you popped it open. You looked up at Lucerys, your eyes shimmering with nerves and anticipation.

"Could you help me slide these off?" You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You lifted your hips slightly, a silent invitation for him to assist you.

"Of course," he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, slowly tugging them down your long, shapely legs. He took his time, savouring the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips as he exposed more and more of you to his heated gaze.

As he slid your jeans off completely, he tossed them aside without a care. His hands lingered on your calves, stroking the soft skin gently before trailing back up to your thighs. He could feel you trembling beneath his touch, and it only fueled his desire.

He leaned down, his face hovering inches from your newly exposed skin. He could smell the sweet, intoxicating scent of your arousal, and it made his mouth water. Slowly, teasingly, he leaned in and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. He could feel you tense beneath him, and he smiled against your thigh.

You could feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest, your skin flushed and tingling with anticipation. The dampness between your legs grew, your panties clinging to your folds as evidence of your increasing arousal.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you lost yourself in the sensation, a soft gasp escaping your lips. "Please," you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn't even realize you'd spoken aloud until you heard the desperation in your own tone. You were so wound up and ready to shatter. And all it took was a few teasing touches from Lucerys's hands and lips.

Lucerys groaned softly as he heard your breathless plea, feeling a surge of masculine pride at how desperately he was affecting you. He could smell your arousal and could feel the heat radiating off your core. It took every ounce of his restraint not to bury his face between your thighs and taste you deeply.

You squirmed beneath his teasing touch, your breathing becoming shallow and uneven. Your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you, twisting the fabric in your fists as you fought the urge to beg him to touch you where you needed it most. You could feel your core clenching, aching for his touch, for some form of relief from the building pressure.

He continued his sensual assault, trailing kisses up your thigh until he reached the lace edge of your panties. He nuzzled against the damp fabric, breathing in your scent and feeling the heat of your sex through the thin material.

His hands slid up to your hips, gripping them gently as he looked up at you with lidded eyes. "You smell so good," he murmured, his voice muffled against your panties. "I bet you taste even better."

With that, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your clothed sex, his lips parting slightly to allow his tongue to slip out and lick a slow stripe along your slit. He could feel you twitching beneath him, could hear your gasp of pleasure. It spurred him on, and he continued to lap at you through the fabric, his tongue stroking your folds and circling your clit with deliberate, teasing strokes.

He could feel you growing wetter, your juices seeping through the lace to coat his lips and chin. He groaned softly, the vibrations adding to your pleasure as he continued to pleasure you with his mouth. His hands slid around to grip your ass, squeezing the firm globes as he held you in place, preventing you from squirming away from his relentless onslaught.

You let out a choked moan, your back arching off the bed as Lucerys's tongue worked through the damp lace of your panties. Each stroke sent jolts of electricity through your veins, the fire building rapidly in your core. You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge embarrassingly fast, your body responding to his teasing touches like a live wire.

"Mmm," you whimpered, your fingers fisting in his hair as you tried to grind against his mouth. But his strong hands gripping your ass held you in place, leaving you at the mercy of his relentless teasing. You could feel every lap, every circle around your aching clit, the sensation dulled by the thin barrier of your panties. Your thighs trembled, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

Lucerys could feel your body trembling beneath his touch, could hear the desperation in your voice as you moaned and whimpered above him. He knew he was pleasing you and could feel your arousal coating his chin, but he was still learning, still figuring out what you liked best.

He licked and suckled at your clothed sex, his tongue pressing against your clit and circling it sloppily. He could feel it throb against his lips, could hear your breathy cries growing louder and more frequent. Emboldened, he leaned in and caught your clit between his lips, suckling on the sensitive bud as he looked up at you with lust-darkened eyes.

Suddenly, he tugged your panties to the side, exposing your dripping sex to his heated gaze. He whined at the sight, taking a moment to admire your glistening folds before diving in to taste you properly.

Lucerys leaned in, running his tongue along your slit, feeling you clench and flutter around the invasive muscle. He groaned at the taste of you, sweet and tangy. He licked and suckled at your folds, his movements slightly clumsy but eager. He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, feeling it swell beneath his touch.

"Oh, Luke!" You cried out, your head falling back against the pillows as you felt his tongue finally make contact with your aching sex. Your eyes rolled back, fluttering shut in bliss as he began to lap at your dripping folds. 

Lucerys paused, looking up at you with a mix of desire and uncertainty in his eyes. "Am I doing this right?" he asked softly, his voice rough and breathless. "Tell me what you need, love. I want to make this amazing for you." His fingers traced teasing circles on your inner thigh as he waited for your guidance, eager to please you in any way he could.

You couldn't hold back the desperate, wanton whine that tore from your throat as he broke away briefly to ask if he was pleasing you. "Mmmm, so good," you gasped, your voice trembling with need. You tangled your fingers in his hair, nestling his head against your sex as you urged him on. "You're doing so, so good. Don't stop, please don't stop." You could feel your climax building rapidly, your core clenching and fluttering around his exploring tongue.

Lucerys groaned softly, feeling your fingers tangle in his hair as you urged him on. The way you bucked your hips, seeking more of his touch, spurred him to continue his sensual assault. He could feel your climax building, could feel your sex clenching and fluttering around his tongue. It made him feel powerful, knowing he could affect you so greatly.

He kissed his way down your thighs, his lips trailing over your soft skin as he made his way to your dripping sex. Impatiently, he tugged your panties off, tossing them carelessly to the side. He wanted to taste you properly, to bury his face in your heat and lose himself in your essence.

Lucerys leaned in, running his tongue along your slit, feeling you clench and flutter around the invading muscle. He groaned, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh as he licked and suckled at your folds. His movements were messy, sloppy even, but eager and filled with desire.

He could feel your arousal all over his lower face, could taste your sweetness on his tongue. It made him feel drunk, completely intoxicated by the taste of you. He licked and suckled at your clit, his tongue circling the sensitive bud as he looked up at you with lust-darkened eyes.

Lucerys let out a low, guttural moan as he continued to pleasure you, his face smudged in your juices. He could feel your body tensing, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He knew you were close, and he doubled his efforts, determined to make you come undone.

Your eyes rolled back, fluttering shut as you felt your climax building to a crescendo. You couldn't form any words, only incoherent cries of pleasure escaping your lips as your body tensed and tightened. Abruptly, you came undone, your pussy clenching and spasming uncontrollably.

"Ahhh!" You screamed, your voice echoing off the bedroom walls as you gushed all over Lucerys's eager face. You could feel your slick arousal pouring out of you, soaking his lips and the lower half of his face completely. Your stomach muscles contracted, your back arching off the bed as you rode out the intense waves of your orgasm.

Lucerys continued to lap at you, his tongue stroking your fluttering walls as you came down from your high. You collapsed onto the bed, your chest heaving and your skin flushed and glistening with sweat. "Stop! It's too...ahh! So sensitive...mm," you whimpered, thighs trembling around his face.

As your body began to relax, he slowly pulled back, looking up at you with a satisfied, almost drunk grin, his chin and cheeks glistening with your juices. "You're so pretty when you come."

He pressed a soft kiss to your sensitive sex before trailing his lips up your quivering stomach, leaving a path of gentle kisses in his wake. He paused to press a kiss to your breast, his tongue darting out to flick over the hardened peak of your nipple, wrapping his lips around the hardening bud through the lace.

His actions made you let out a whimper and you could feel your arousal dripping onto the sheets, a wet patch appearing there. The lace of your bra began to stick to your skin, Lucerys' wet mouth all over your breast.

"Mmmh," you breathed out, your voice high and needy. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to your breast.

Lucerys whined as he felt your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to your breast. He could feel your nipple hardening under his tongue, your skin warm against his lips. He suckled gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as he gazed up at you with lust-darkened eyes.

His hand slid up your side, cupping your breast and squeezing gently as he continued to lavish attention on your chest. He could feel your heart racing beneath his palm, could hear your breath coming in soft pants and whimpers. It made him feel powerful, knowing he could affect you so deeply.

He trailed his fingers along the edge of your bra, toying with the clasp. He glanced up at you, his eyes questioning. "Can I...?" he asked softly, his voice rough with desire. At your nod, he deftly unclasped your bra, tossing it aside to reveal your bare breasts to his heated gaze.

Soon enough his mouth was back on your tit, making you let out a sharp gasp. Your fingers caressed his soft curls, gently stroking his hair as he suckled and tugged on the hardened peak with his teeth.

Lucerys groaned softly as he felt your fingers in his hair, your gentle touch making his cock throb.

"I want... I want to make you feel good too," you whispered breathlessly, your voice thick with desire. You could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, hard and insistent, and it made you ache to touch him, to taste him, to feel him inside you.

He could hear the need in your voice. It made him pulsate with desire, his arousal straining against his jeans.

He pulled back slightly, looking up at you with a heated gaze. "You already do," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Making you feel good makes me feel incredible." He pressed another soft kiss to your breast before trailing his lips up to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your throat.

All the while, he rutted against your thigh. The friction was maddening, teasing, not enough but oh so good. His breathing grew ragged, his heart pounding as he lost himself in you.

He slid a hand down your body, his fingers skimming over your stomach, and your hips, before cupping your sex possessively. He could feel the heat radiating off you, could feel your slick arousal coating his fingers as he stroked along your slit. He groaned against your neck, his hips jerking sharply at the feel of your dripping sex.

"Fuck," he panted, his voice strained with desire. He circled your clit with the pad of his thumb, feeling it swell beneath his touch. His fingers slid lower, teasing your entrance, before slowly pushing inside your tight heat. He groaned at the feel of your walls clenching around the invading digits, your body welcoming him in.

You choked on a moan as his fingers began pumping inside you, your greedy little cunt clenching hungrily around the delicious stretch. A needy whimper escaped your lips as he massaged my most sensitive spots.

Unable to resist any longer, your hand drifted down to cup the hard, straining length of him through his jeans. You could feel him throbbing against your palm. You applied pressure, rubbing along his impressive size, feeling him twitch eagerly against your touch.

You gazed at him with hooded, lust-darkened eyes, your voice breathless and heavy with desire. "I need to make you feel good," you insisted, your tone leaving no room for argument. "I want to taste you, to feel you in my mouth, to make you feel as good as you make me feel.."

With that, you gently pushed him onto his back on the soft mattress, kneeling next to him as you leaned down to capture his lips in a searing kiss.

Lucerys moaned into the kiss, his fingers still pumping slowly inside your dripping sex. He could feel your hand rubbing along his aching length, the pressure and friction delicious torture. He thrust his hips up into your touch, seeking more of that incredible sensation.

He broke the kiss with a gasp, his chest heaving as he looked up at you with lust-glazed eyes. "Fuck, yes," he panted, his voice strained with desire. "I want that more than anything."

He watched through hooded eyes as you slowly slid down his body, your fingers trailing over his chest, his stomach, before reaching for the button of his jeans. He lifted his hips, allowing you to tug his jeans and boxers down his legs. His hard cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach and leaving a smear of precum on his skin.

He shuddered as the cool air hit his heated flesh, his cock twitching under your gaze. Lucerys tangled his fingers in your hair, gently guiding you down to his lap.

"Please," he whimpered, his voice high and needy. "I need your mouth on me, need to feel your lips wrapped around my cock. Please." His words were punctuated by the thrust of his hips, his cock bobbing with each movement as he sought your touch.

You smiled at the needy tone in his voice, your heart melting at his desperate plea. "I'll make you feel so good...," I purred, "...baby boy," you added in a barely audible whisper. You leaned down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the trail of hair, leading from his navel down to the base of his impressive cock.

When you called him 'baby boy' in that sweet, breathy tone, he let out a soft, strangled moan. His hips jerked off the bed, a fresh spurt of precum beading at the swollen tip.

A deep blush spread across his cheeks and neck at the unexpectedly intimate endearment. It made him feel cherished, desired, and strangely vulnerable in the best way possible.

"Fuck, I love hearing you call me that," he breathed out, his voice trembling slightly. "Please, I need your mouth on me. I'm going crazy."

Wrapping your hand around his thick shaft, you licked a slow stripe from base to tip, savouring the taste of his skin, the scent of his arousal. You could feel him pulsing in your grasp and could see the bead of precum glistening at the pink head of his cock.

You stroked him slowly, your hand gliding along his velvet-soft skin, feeling him twitch and pulse beneath your touch. You spat on his tip, letting your saliva dribble down his length.

He watched, enraptured, as you spat on his tip, the saliva trickling down his hard cock. It was so filthy, so dirty, and yet so fucking hot. He groaned at the sight, his cock jumping and leaking even more precum at the erotic display.

Lucerys could feel the heat building in his core, could feel his orgasm already threatening to overwhelm him. It was intense and all-consuming, and he knew he wouldn't last long.

You slowly leaned in, placing kitten licks and soft, teasing kisses along his tip, your breath hot against his sensitive flesh.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," he gasped out, his voice strained and high with pleasure. He could feel every flick and lick of your tongue. "Please," he whimpered, his voice breaking slightly. "I need more. I need to feel your lips around me."

You need more?" you purred, your voice low and teasing, a coy smile on your lips.

At his desperate nod, you leaned in, wrapping your soft, plump lips around the head of his cock. You could feel it throb against your tongue as you slowly took him deeper, inch by thick inch disappearing between your lips until the tip kissed the back of your throat.

Lucerys let out a choked moan as your lips wrapped around his sensitive cock, your hot mouth engulfing him completely. "Oh fuck, oh god," he panted, his fingers tightening in your hair as you took him deeper. He could feel the head of his cock kissing the back of your throat, and it made his hips jerk up involuntarily.

"I've never... fuck... I can't believe how good this feels." He looked down at you with lust-darkened eyes, watching as more and more of his hard length disappeared between your stretched lips with each bob of your head.

He could hardly form a coherent thought, his mind hazing with pleasure as you took him deeper and deeper. The sight of your mouth stretched around him, the feeling of your tongue gliding along his shaft, it was almost too much to bear.

Lucerys's hips jerked up involuntarily, seeking more of that amazing sensation. He could feel your throat convulsing around him as you adjusted to his size, and it made him groan deeply. His chest heaved with each ragged breath, his skin flushed and sweaty.

You let out a gag as Lucerys thrust into your mouth, tears springing to your eyes from the sudden intrusion. You blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears as you gazed up at him with glossy, watery eyes.

The salty drops trickled down your cheeks, leaving a glistening trail on your soft skin. You could feel your makeup starting to run, but you didn't care. All you cared about was pleasing him.

Lucerys's heart clenched at the sight of your tears, a pang of concern and tenderness mixing with the intense pleasure coursing through his veins. "Shit, I'm sorry," he gasped out, immediately stilling his hips and gentling his grip on your hair. "I didn't mean to be so rough. Are you alright?" His hand gentled in your hair, no longer gripping, but caressing softly, his thumb brushing away the salty drops on your cheek.

But even as he said it, his hips jerked up accidentally, seeking the heat of your mouth once more. He was so close to the edge, his orgasm building rapidly in his heavy balls, heart racing at the erotic sight of your glistening, tear-stained cheeks and his hard cock stretching your lips.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he panted. "I just... I need..." He couldn't even finish his sentence, too lost in the sensation of your mouth around him.

With great reluctance, he pulled you off his throbbing shaft, watching as it bobbed and jerked in the cool air. The thick head was a deep, angry red, leaking copious amounts of precum.

Your heart swelled at his tender concern, warmed by the worry in his voice. You gently squeezed his thick shaft, feeling it pulse and twitch in your grasp.

"Shh, it's okay," you murmured, voice low and soothing. "You didn't hurt me at all. I promise." You leaned in, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the weeping tip of his cock. You could taste the salty essence of his arousal on your tongue, and it made you crave more.

Lucerys shuddered as he felt your soft lips press against the sensitive head of his cock, your soothing words and gentle touch helping to calm his frayed nerves. He looked down at you with hooded, desperate eyes, his chest heaving with each ragged breath.

"Do you want me to continue?" You asked softly, your eyes gazing up at him with innocence and sultry promise. Your hand slowly stroked along his hard length, twisting gently as you awaited his response.

"Please, I'm so close," he whimpered, desperation clear in his tone. "Can you... will you... I need to come so badly." His fingers tightened in your hair, gently urging you back down to his aching cock. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. I just... I need to feel your mouth on me again. Please."

He was usually so much more in control. Still, something about you, about this moment, had stripped away all his defences until he was left bare and aching with desire.

"Such a good boy," you murmured, your voice approving. You breathed in deeply, pressing your nose against the coarse trimmed hair at the base of his thick shaft, inhaling his scent and placing a chaste kiss there. Holding yourself there for a moment, before slowly pulling back.

Licking your lips, you dove back down, engulfing his hard length in the warm, wet cavern of my mouth. Your tongue swirled around his shaft, lapping at the sensitive skin as you took him deep. Each time you sank down, your tongue dragged over his heavy balls, massaging them gently as you worked his cock with your mouth.

Lucerys let out a strangled moan. "Oh fuck, oh god," he gasped, his head falling back against the pillows as you worked his aching cock with skilful ease. He could feel every flick and swirl of your tongue, every gentle massage of his cum-filled balls as you took him deeper and deeper.

Lucerys could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his groin, his balls drawing up as he neared his peak. He knew he wouldn't last much longer, not with the way you were worshipping his cock.

"Fuck, I'm gonna... I'm gonna come," he panted, his voice high and desperate. "Please, I need to come so badly. Can I... can I come in your mouth?" He looked down at you, his eyes hazy with lust and need. "I want to feel you swallow it, want to see you drink down every drop."

Gazing up at Lucerys with sultry, half-lidded eyes, you hummed your encouragement around his throbbing shaft, feeling it twitch against your tongue. Not needing words, you picked up the pace, bobbing your head faster as you worked him towards his release.

You wrapped your thumb and index finger snugly around the base of his thick cock, squeezing tightly. With each pump, you milked his heavy balls, coaxing out every last drop of his impending orgasm.

Lucerys's breath came in sharp, desperate pants as you worked him towards his release, your skilled mouth and hand driving him wild with lust. "Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!" he cried out, his voice rising in pitch and volume with each bob of your head.

With a final, strangled moan, Lucerys came undone, his cock pulsing and jerking as he spilt his hot seed down your eager throat. "Oh god, yes! Swallow it, please swallow it all!" he begged, his hips jerking up to bury himself deep in your mouth as he rode out the intense waves of his climax.

Thick, creamy ropes of cum pumped out of his throbbing shaft, coating your tongue and the back of your throat. It was an overwhelming amount, and he could feel you struggling to swallow it all, your throat working as you gulped down every drop of his release.

You tried desperately to swallow every drop of Lucerys's hot, thick seed, but some of it spilt from the corners of your stretched lips, dribbling down his twitching shaft. You pulled off his softening cock with a lewd pop, your chest heaving as you gasped for air.

Licking your lips, you cleaned up the mess, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head to lap up every last bit of his release.

"Mmm, you taste so good," you purred, your voice slightly hoarse from the exertion. You placed a soft, chaste kiss on the tip of his cock, feeling it twitch weakly against your lips.

Lucerys collapsed back against the pillows, completely spent and sated. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, a fine sheen of sweat covering his skin. He watched through hooded eyes as you licked and kissed his softening cock, cleaning up every drop of his release.

"Fuck...," he panted, his voice rough and low. "You're so pretty." He reached out, gently cupping your cheek and thumbing away a stray drop of his cum that had landed there.

You kissed and nipped your way up Lucerys's toned stomach, relishing the taste of his sweat-slicked skin. Reaching his neck, you pressed your soft lips against his racing pulse. A small smile played across your kiss-swollen lips as you gazed at him.

"Was that good?" you asked. You needed his praise and craved it like a drug. Seeing the blissed-out, slightly dazed expression on his handsome face.

Your fingers traced patterns on his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath your touch. You snuggled closer, pressing your soft curves against his side as you waited for his response.

Lucerys gazed down at you with a look of pure adoration, his heart still racing in his chest. "That was... fuck, that was incredible," he breathed out, his voice filled with awe. "I've never... I mean, I've touched myself before, but that... you..."He seemed at a loss for words, unable to fully express the magnitude of the pleasure he had just experienced.

His hand tangled in your hair, gently stroking the silky strands as he tried to gather his thoughts. "I can't believe how amazing that felt," he murmured, his voice still rough from his intense orgasm. "I've never come so hard in my life. You're just..." He leaned in to capture your lips in a deep, sensual kiss, pouring his gratitude and desire into the intimate embrace.

You kissed him back softly, your lips curving into a satisfied smile against his. Your hand drifted from his heaving chest, your thumb gently caressing the sweat-slicked skin of his neck. You could feel his pulse slowly returning to a normal rhythm and see the blissed-out, slightly dazed expression on his handsome face.

Lucerys deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours. He could feel himself growing hard again already, his cock stirring against your thigh as he pulled your naked body flush against his own.

"I need to be inside you," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough with desire. "I need to feel your tight pussy wrapped around my cock." He rolled his hips, letting you feel how ready he was for you.

His other hand slid up your side, cupping the weight of your breast in his palm. He brushed his thumb over your nipple, feeling it stiffen under his touch. He leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Tell me you want it too," he breathed against your throat. "Tell me you need me."

You arched into Lucerys's touch, a breathy moan escaping your lips as he groped you. "Mhm," you gasped out, nodding eagerly. "I need you, Lucerys. Ever since you made love to me on that boat, I knew no other man could ever satisfy me. Please, I'm yours, all yours." You breathed your words into his neck, your heart racing with anticipation and desire.

Lucerys groaned at your breathless admission, feeling a surge of masculine pride and possessiveness. He liked the sound of that, liked knowing that he had ruined you for other men. He wanted to make good on that promise and try to show you just how thoroughly he could satisfy you.

"Fuck, I love hearing you say that," he growled, his voice deep and low with desire. He rolled you over, settling his hard body between your soft thighs. He could feel your wet heat against his aching shaft, and it made him throb with need.

."I feel the same way," he murmured, his voice thick with feeling. "I know I can never let you go, not now that I've had a taste of paradise in your arms."

He reached down, gripping your thighs and pushing them up and back towards your chest. The new position left you open and exposed to him, completely at his mercy. He took a moment to admire the view, his eyes roving hungrily over your glistening folds.

"Keep saying things like that," he commanded, his tip nudging your entrance teasingly. "Keep telling me how much you need me, how good I make you feel. I want to hear all of it as I fuck this tight little cunt."

You gazed up at Lucerys with hooded, desire-darkened eyes, your heart racing in your chest. "Please, Luke..." you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "I have longed for you. I've thought about your touch every single night, aching for you.."

Your fingers tangled in his soft hair, urging his mouth back to mine in a desperate, hungry kiss. Your knees were pressed against his elbows and against your chest. The new angle allowed you to feel every hard inch of him pressing urgently against your dripping core.

"I want you to take me all night long," you mumbled against his lips, your nails raking down his back.

Lucerys froze, his green eyes wide and unblinking as they locked onto yours. For a moment, he looked like he didn’t know how to breathe, his chest rising and falling unevenly as your confession settled over him.

“Say that again,” he whispered, his voice rough and shaky, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right the first time.

“I said,” you began, your voice soft but unwavering, “I want you to take me—all night long.”

His breath hitched, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he tried to steady himself. “Fuck, you can't just...” he muttered, his voice trembling. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

He kissed you with a hunger that bordered on frantic, his tongue delving deep into your mouth to claim you, to taste you.

He broke the kiss with a gasp, his chest heaving against yours. "I want to fuck you in every room of this house," he panted, his voice rough and low. "I want to bend you over the kitchen counter, lay you out on the dining room table, fuck you in the bath, on the balcony overlooking the sea..."

He rocked his hips slowly, his cock sliding through your slick folds, not yet pushing inside. "I want to please you," he murmured.

You felt the tip of his hard cock nudge against your dripping entrance, teasing you, making you ache for more. A soft moan escaped your lips as you arched into him, your heart racing in anticipation.

"We... fuck... we have all night," you sighed, voice breathy and low. You gazed up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, taking in the sight of his gorgeous face, his chest heaving with desire. "Please, I need you inside of me."

Lucerys groaned as he slowly pushed forward, the head of his cock parting your slick folds and sinking into your tight heat. He had to pause, his breath catching in his throat at the exquisite sensation of your walls clenching around him, drawing him in deeper.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he panted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He wanted to slam forward, to bury himself to the hilt in one hard thrust, but he forced himself to go slow, to savour every inch of your silken passage.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he slowly pushed forward, inch by delicious inch disappearing inside you. He could feel your body yielding to his, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick shaft.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Take my cock, let it fill you up." He rolled his hips, grinding against your clit as he bottomed out, his heavy balls nestling against your ass.

"Fuck!" You gasped, your back arching off the bed as you finally felt Lucerys's thick cock sink deep inside you, stretching you deliciously. "Thank you, thank you," you whimpered, your voice high and breathy, your mind hazing with pleasure at being so perfectly filled. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back. "Mmm, needed you so bad," you sighed. "Please, don't stop."

Lucerys groaned as he felt your nails dig into his back, the slight pain only spurring him on. He began to move, withdrawing slowly until just the tip of his cock remained inside you, before surging forward again, burying himself to the hilt in your tight, wet heat.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he panted, setting a deep, sensual pace as he made love to you. Each thrust pushed him deeper, his cock kissing your cervix as he ground his hips against yours.

He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans and whimpers.

"I'm going to fuck you all night long," he murmured against your lips. "Keep saying those pretty things, keep telling me how much you need my cock. I want to hear it, want to feel you come apart on my dick again and again."

He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust, driving himself harder and faster into your welcoming body. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he made love to you with increasing fervour.

"Lucerys," you mewled breathlessly, the word escaping your lips in a needy whimper. You could feel every hard inch of him throbbing within your tight, dripping walls, and it made you ache for more.

But you wanted to ride him, to watch his face as you made him lose himself in pleasure. You placed your hands on his firm chest, giving him a gentle push. "Sit up," you breathed out, your voice low and sultry. "I want to ride you until you can’t take no more, want to watch your pretty face as I make you feel good."

Lucerys paused, his eyes widening at your words. He hesitated for a moment, desire and hesitation warring in his gaze. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "I don't know if I can hold back if you start riding me." He bit his lip, his hips twitching slightly as he fought the urge to start thrusting up into you.

Your heart raced as you rolled my hips sensually. "Ohh, fuck, I love riding you," you praised him mindlessly, your words tumbling out in a jumbled mess.

"Don't hold back," you purred, your eyes gleaming with wicked promise. "I want to feel you throbbing and twitching inside me as I ride you hard and fast. I want to make you forget everything but the feel of my pussy around your cock, wanna watch your face as you come inside of me."

He thrusts up to meet your downward movements, driving himself deeper and harder into your dripping core. The new angle allowed him to hit that special spot inside you with every thrust, and he could feel your body starting to tremble above him.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice low and rough with lust. "Ride my cock just like that. Fuck, you look so sexy above me, bouncing on my dick like you can't get enough." He reached up to cup your breasts, squeezing the soft mounds and thumbing your nipples as he watched you with hooded eyes.

Gripping his shoulders, you pushed his face into your heaving breasts. "Suck my tits," you purred, voice breathy. "Put that pretty mouth of yours to work." You arched your back, your wet pussy making an obscene noise with each bounce.

Lucerys obeyed quickly, humming around your nipple, his tongue swirling and sucking greedily at the sensitive bud. He could feel your wetness dripping down his shaft as you rode him harder and faster, your needy little whimpers and moans spurring him on.

"Fuck, your tits taste so good," he muttered, switching to the other breast to give it the same treatment. He could feel his orgasm building, your tight cunt squeezing him like a vice as you chased your own release.

"I'm getting close," he gasped, his hips starting to move erratically beneath you. "I don't know how much longer I can last."

You arched your back, pushing Lucerys's face deeper into your breasts as jolts of pleasure shot through you from his greedy sucking. You could feel your climax fast approaching, your inner walls starting to flutter around his throbbing shaft.

"I'm close too," you squealed, your eyes squeezing shut as you teetered on the brink of ecstasy. "Don't stop!" Your fingers tangled in his soft hair, holding him against your chest as you ground your hips down, taking him as deep as you could. You wanted to feel him explode inside you.

Lucerys gripped your hips tightly and held you up, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he thrust up into you with increasing urgency. "Fuck, I can't hold back any longer," he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his impending orgasm. "I'm going to fill this tight little pussy up so good. You want that, don't you? You want to feel my hot cum shooting deep inside you?"

He could feel your walls starting to flutter around his shaft, and he knew you were just as close as he was. He leaned in to capture your lips in a sloppy, desperate kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he pounded into you with wild abandon.

He gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he emptied himself inside you, his hot seed spurting deep into your waiting womb.

You threw your head back, a high, keening moan tearing from your throat as my orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your inner walls clamped down around Lucerys's pulsing cock, rippling and squeezing as you gushed all over his shaft, your juices splashing against his navel and dripping down his thighs. You were shaking uncontrollably above him, your eyes rolling back in sheer ecstasy, feeling like you had been utterly possessed by the intensity of your climax.

The feeling of Lucerys taking control, gripping your waist and holding you in place as he emptied himself deep inside you, had sent you hurtling over the edge.

It was the most intensely pleasurable experience of your young life, and you knew you would be ruined for anyone else after this. No one could ever make you feel as good as Lucerys just had.

As you slowly came down from your high, you collapsed against his chest, your body still trembling with aftershocks. You breathed out, nuzzling into his neck. "I've never come so hard in my life."

Lucerys held you close, his arms wrapping around your trembling form as he felt your walls flutter and clench around his spent cock. He could feel your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his thighs.

"You're incredible," he murmured, his voice low and rough with sated desire. He brushed your hair back from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear as he gazed down at you with a look of pure adoration. "I've never seen anything more beautiful than you coming apart in my arms."

He rolled you over, settling you beneath him on the bed as he leaned down to capture your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. He poured all of his feelings into it, trying to show you just how much this moment had meant to him.

"I meant what I said before," he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "You're mine now, all mine. I won't let anyone else touch you, not after I've had you. You belong to me. You belong with me."

"Mmm, you know I do. And I could never imagine letting another man touch me again..." you sighed. "Especially not after witnessing firsthand just how... protective you can be. I mean, what you did to Aegon back at the bar..." you giggled at the thought.

Your fingers played with the soft, damp curls at the nape of his neck as you leaned in close, your voice dropping to a whisper. "It was pretty damn hot though, seeing you finally let go like that. I loved watching you lose control, seeing the real you shine through." You nuzzled into his jaw, breathing in his musky scent. "Don't hide that from me. I want to see that intensity, all the time. I'm not scared. I'm not leaving." You said as your tone turned more serious, cupping his jaw.

Lucerys's heart raced at your words, a surge of possessiveness and protectiveness rising up inside him. He knew he would do anything to keep you safe, to keep you by his side. He leaned into your touch, his cheek resting in the palm of your hand as he gazed down at you with a fierce intensity.

"I won't hide anything from you," he vowed, his voice low and serious. "I want you to see all of me, the good and the bad. I want you to know that I would move heaven and earth to keep you safe, to make you happy. You're not going anywhere, not if I have anything to say about it."

He leaned in for a passionate kiss. He wanted to brand you with his kiss, to mark you as his for all eternity.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark and intense as they bore into yours. "You're mine," he growled, his voice rough with emotion. "And I'm yours, completely and utterly. We belong together, you and I. I know it, deep down in my bones."

You gazed up at Lucerys, a gentle expression on your face. "Even though you tried to push me away at first?" You whispered, your voice soft.

Lucerys's expression softened at the reminder, a flicker of guilt passing through his eyes. He sighed, his thumb brushing gently over your cheekbone. "Even then," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "I was just... scared. Scared of how much I wanted you, of how easily you could ruin me if you were to leave. I knew from the moment I saw you that you were different, that you could make me feel things I had never felt before."

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours as he closed his eyes. "But I can't run from this anymore, can't deny how much I need you. You've gotten under my skin, into my blood, and I don't ever want to be without you again."

"Good," you whispered, your voice soft and breathy with feeling. "Cause I don't want to be without you either." You pulled him into another kiss, your fingers tangling in his soft hair as you pressed your lips against his in a loving caress.

The world around you seemed to fade away as you held each other, your bodies moulding together like two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.

taglist: @bey0nd-1he-stars <3

[mythicmanuscripts]

Need poor baby aegon getting fucked by a medieval strap and y/n just taking care of him and praising him for being a good boy

SO TRUE ANON SO TRUE. I am actually so shocked that I've somehow never discussed pegging on this blog? I actually had to go back and scroll through my posts just to double check this because I was so certain I would have discussed this by now??

Anyway, everyone thank this anon for bringing the lack of pegging content to my attention so we can fix it!! Needy NSFW sub!aegon below the cut :))

So I think Aegon always knew that he liked ass play? As in he regularly fingered himself when masturbating.

However, despite this he never mentioned it to any of the women he laid with before you. Even when he realised he wanted to submit in the bedroom and started paying brothel workers to dom him, he still never mentioned it. In fact a few times they the workers had even suggested it and he always refused.

It wasnt because he didnt want it, he knew it would feel good. But it just felt so vulnerable? He could handle all the degradation and rough treatment when it's normal sex but if they were to treat him like that and then try to play with his ass he knew he'd just dissolve into a puddle of tears.

But then he marries you and he stops going to brothels and he gets to be your subby little thing. He just adores how soft you are with him, how you never degrade him or even manhandle him that much?? He just... he really really loves being with you.

After a few months of this, he eventually pulls together enough courage to tell you how he kinda occasionally likes fingering himself and maybe... maybe you might want to do it to him.

He very nearly starts crying when you respond with nothing but acceptance and love? You promise him that you love him very much and you have absolutely no issue with trying that with him. Of course you'd do it! You're always looking for ways to make your darling husband feel good.

The first time you do anything in this realm, it's just fingering him and god he's so pretty with it?? He's so so so sensitive and he whines and shakes when there's only one finger in him. He cums almost instantly when you work him up to three fingers and then curl your fingers up a little.

You cant believe you've never done this with him before because he just clearly loves it so much. He's so sweet, crying and thanking you as he cums with you barely even touching his cock.

After that it becomes a pretty regular thing you do with him and quite often if you ever let him choose what he wants as a reward he'll often choose fingering.

You're the one who brings up pegging. You've barely even gotten the sentence out before Aegon is frantically nodding and asking how quickly you can get a hold of a strap because he wants it so so bad.

The first time, you spend a very long time prepping him. You prep him until he's practically sobbing and begging you to please just fuck him because he's so desperate.

Maybe once you decide he's prepped enough, you decide to offer to let him put the strap on you? You ask if he wants to do it offhandedly, not actually expecting him to take you up on it because he's such a little pillow princess.

But he immediately says he wants to do it. He's so careful with it, like he's afraid he might somehow hurt you. Once it's on properly, he still doesn't get up. Instead he kisses your thighs and hips and tummy and then eventually sucks on dildo that's attached to the strap? It's the first time you begin to think he might have an oral fixation.

You're pretty sure if you didnt pull Aegon up and get him on the bed then he may have genuinely spent hours on his knees sucking the fake cock.

When you enter him, you go as slow as you can and the way Aegon squirms and whines is sinful. Once you've got the whole thing inside him, you just wait there to see how he feels. He's panting and whining and telling you how full he feels.

He cums so easily. Like you've barely even gotten a rhythm going and he's cumming. So naturally after that you can't just stop. You fuck him a little more until he's sobbing and telling you he's getting close again.

You only pull out after your second orgasm and then you have to get the strap off you as quick as you can so that you can pull him into your lap.

The pegging is a massive success, but I also think you soon realise it takes him a little longer to recover from it? He feels more vulnerable after being pegged and it takes him longer to be able to form full sentences again. You can't peg him if you don't have a good few hours available because you know that once you're done with him the poor thing wouldnt even be able to form sentences for hours afterwards never mind actually be out and about.

Needless to say, you soon add more and more dildos and straps and if Aegon has been particularly good then he gets to choose which one you use.

[honeydazai]

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ 𝆬  pregnancy headcanons𝆬 𓏸

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Fukuzawa, Fyodor, Poe, Nikolai, Sigma, Jōno, Fukuchi

content: f!reader, pregnancy and related symptoms, soft....

If you truly believe that DAZAI is anything but awfully flirty during your pregnancy, you're wrong. He constantly mentions just how gorgeous and breathtaking — or, in certain situations, outright hot — you look, making sure that you never have any reason at all to feel insecure about yourself, even if you gain quite a lot of weight. Like he cares; he's fond of all women, after all, but especially you, and, in his eyes, it's impossible for you to be anything but beautiful.

That also means, though, that he won't keep his hands off you, constantly fondling your now larger chest, your hips and stomach and everywhere he can reach, really. Deep down, he doubts he'll make for a good father, though he's determined to try his best for the sake of your small family. This includes shedding his usual lazy attitude and helping you with household chores, as well as laying off the alcohol, hopefully.

“You're terrible, bella. Honestly awful — how am I supposed to get any of those papers done when you're next to me, looking this irresistible? It's like you're trying to set me up for failure. Ah—, but I'm sure Kunikida will understand if I take a small break, hm? Get over here, darling.”

CHŪYA suddenly spoils you even more than he did before the announcement of your pregnancy, though, really, he's just awfully overjoyed. The thought of actually getting a child with you, a true family, still seems surreal to him, like a situation out of a dream rather than something that can happen in reality and, for a moment, he wonders whether he's deserving of something this wonderful. Unfortunately, he's rather busy, but, naturally, he makes as much time to be with you as somehow possible, rolling his eyes at Mori whenever another oh so “urgent mission” comes up.

To make up for him occasionally not being home, you get Kōyō, as well as Higuchi, Gin, Hirotsu and Tachihara who make sure to constantly keep an eye on you. Even if you're simply going out to get some ice cream, one of them accompanies you — and, luckily, they make for surprisingly great friends. While Chūya's life style, being a dangerous ability user who works for the Port Mafia, isn't the safest, he's fairly content that he'll be able to protect you and your child from any harm whatsoever — he'd give his life for yours, after all.

“Hm? I'm not mad. I just—, not at you, at least. I wanted to take ya out on a proper nice date tomorrow, made a reservation and everything, though the Boss just assigned me some apparently important mission. Yeah, I know. Sorry, sweetheart. I'll make it up to you, yeah? Ah, it's already paid for, though. You can take Kōyō or Gin, if you like. They should be free tomorrow. Sorry. I love you.”

FUKUZAWA never felt for anyone as strongly before as he now does for you, meaning he never imagined himself to eventually grow old surrounded by a loving family, with a partner and a child, even. It sounds too perfect to be true, not like a situation that'd fit into his current life, and yet he finds himself overjoyed after overcoming the initial disbelief, his smile dripping with love, with affection as he gently meets your lips in a kiss, arms immediately curling around your body to hug you close.

During the pregnancy, he's all the more protective of you, unwilling to ever leave your side. If things went his way, you'd accompany him to the Agency's office in the morning and would leave in the evening together with him, though he admits that he sees why that might be a tad boring. He simply aches to keep an eye on you, worried about what might happen to you when he's not around, though several Agency members assure him that they, too, will keep an eye on you.

“I'm afraid I can't accompany you today, dear. I'm sorry. An urgent meeting came up, but I'm sure Kunikida or Yosano would join you. Alright? We'll go there together next time. Just— be safe, yes? I trust you're in good hands. Still, don't hesitate to call me if anything happens.”

You best believe that FYODOR has made sure to inform himself as much as humanly possible about pregnancies the moment you announced that the multiple tests you did are positive. While he's the slightest bit strict when it comes to topics such as what you should and shouldn't consume, as well as anything else related to the yours and baby's health, he naturally makes sure to completely indulge most of your cravings, too — when you're the one to bring new life into this world, who is he to forbid you from having another pastry or a second bowl of ice cream?

He's so very gentle in everything he does, carefully caressing your stomach before cupping your cheek and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his smile warm, like he can't believe his hands, tainted ones, are allowed to hold something this pure, this holy. It's safe to say that you've always had multiple security guards hovering around you to ensure your safety, though, now, Ivan makes sure to tend to your every need, too, often bringing you the meal you're aching for or even trying out silly yoga techniques for relaxation with you.

“Ah, now—, careful, dear. Allow me to get that for you instead — you should call for Ivan when I am not around. You mustn't overexert yourself. I would hate for you to hurt yourself. Simply sit back and relax, will you? .. Please, for the sake of us, of our family. It won't matter in the long run whether you or someone else got a snack for you, but it will matter if you climb atop a shelf, fall and hurt yourself gravely. Yes?”

POE honestly does not quite believe his ears when you first mention you're pregnant. When you end up showing him the positive test, however, his smile is blinding, the most sincere one he's had in what feels like ages. He, unfortunately, is the type to worry; while he's still more than delighted, he's almost tempted to create a pocket dimension in a book for you where you'd be safe and cared for, though he has to stop himself from doing just that. It'd be a little overbearing.

Given how he's more than wealthy, you don't have to worry about anything at all. Whatever you crave, it's yours immediately — as fast as premium online shipping works, that is —, whether it's new clothing to accommodate your changing body, furniture for the child's room, certain snacks only available in a foreign country; anything, really. He also makes sure to constantly check in on how you're feeling, asking multiple times every few hours and, when he's not home for whatever reason, he leaves you a surprisingly large amount of text messages, telling you to call him immediately if anything feels.. odd.

“Are you experiencing anything like cramps? Nausea, perhaps? No? That's a relief. Ah, I just—, that's merely what it said on the Internet, symptoms that could happen. I'm relieved if you truly are alright for now.”

Usually, NIKOLAI is a force to be dealt with. He's unpredictable, mood changing quickly, his smirk wide and his eyes sharp, though, once you tell him you're pregnant, he's surprisingly gentle in the way his hands move to rest on your stomach, his revealed eye sparkling with joy as he coos at the barely visible bump as if the baby is able to hear him. He keeps carefully running for once bare hands over the stretched skin, telling the child stories and that you're both excited to meet it; anything that comes to mind, really.

If you get odd food cravings during the pregnancy, he's not afraid to supply you with whatever you want, as well as to try them out with you. Perhaps ice cream with hot sauce and pickles will be a new family dessert; he's anything but scared of new possibilities.

“Ah, what are you having, doll? Allow me to try, please? Hm? I'm not stealing from you; now, now, don't be mean—, alright, alright. I admit defeat. At least let me say hi to our sweetheart then, yes?”

The moment SIGMA learns that you're expecting a child, his child, he's ecstatic. He'll make sure you have everything you might want or need, ranging from all kinds of different snacks you could possibly crave to a personal masseuse if you're feeling sore. The more your bump starts to show, the more often he can't help but rest his hands on your stomach, gently caressing, or even pressing soft kisses to it. There's nothing that gets to him more than the idea of having a family with you.

Despite his initial joy, he's another one who's prone to worrying and overthinking, his warm smile making way for a deep frown when he knows you're not looking. He borders on overprotective with how much he keeps an eye on you, even more so than usual, given how, now, he has two loved ones to protect, not just one anymore and, oh, he's admittedly stressed, constantly thinking that something might happen to you, to the baby.

“How are you feeling, love? Is everything alright? Promise you'll tell me if you feel anything odd, yes? I'm not worried. I just don't wish for anything to happen to you or the baby. Alright, I'm admittedly the slightest bit worried, but I really can't help it. I love you, after all.”

JŌNO honestly never expected to ever have a child of his own in the first place, meaning that the knowledge of you being pregnant is something he needs to process for a bit first. Nonetheless, he's happy, of course. How could he not be? It's an odd thought, one he'll have to get used to first, but, in general, it's a pleasant one. Naturally, his job comes with some dangers for you and your future

He's protective by nature, having found pleasure in saving people rather than torturing them, and you're no exception. Seeing you smile, knowing that you feel safe with him is the best feeling he could ever ask for, though his desire to protect you from all harm quickly gets overwhelming. It's less harm from outsiders he fears — he deals quickly and efficiently with criminals, thank you very much —, but more you harming yourself, perhaps by tripping and falling when he's not around, resulting in him preferring to take every little task out of your hands. Oh, well.

“My, my, stay seated, dear. I'll handle this. Hm? I'm not treating you like you're fragile. I know you're not sick, merely pregnant; you mention it often enough. Still, is it so wrong for me to care for you? Yes, that's what I thought.”

FUKUCHI is a busy man. Really, being a war hero and the Hunting Dogs Captain — as well as Kamui, but perhaps that's not something for you to know about —, you'd expect him to be busy with work even while you're pregnant with his child, though that's far from reality. Instead of prioritising work and his reputation, he makes sure to come to every doctor's appointment with you, constantly by your side, and spends as much time as possible at home with you, one hand of his ever so often resting on your stomach, even when the bump is barely visible.

He claims he's able to feel the child's heartbeat already — whether that's true does not seem to matter, not when he's busy peppering your skin in kisses, smile never leaving his face as he wonders aloud whether it'll be a girl or a boy, what their name should be and if their eventual first word will be “mum” or “dad”; his bet is on “mum”, by the way, even though he pretends to be heartbroken by the idea, all too dramatic.

“You look surprised to see that it's me picking you up rather than some chauffeur, sweet thing. Why's that, I wonder? I already told you I'll accompany you to every doctor's appointment you have. The rest of the Hunting Dogs can cover me for one evening. I wouldn't miss this for the world.”

a part of this was a commission! thank you so much again! 💜 Also the idea of Ivan doing yoga with you had me giggling..

tags: @irethepotato @beandaifuku , @the-foreigner , @ranpobb, @arixsux, @dei-lilxc , @atsyushi @satoruislove @pastelsbaby @marina-and-the-memes @texchou @shiggysredhead @savagemickey03 @rosepxtlz @nikolaiswife @okura-s @ladykatakuri @lunerenzo @berywritesstuff @alice0blog @xelia25 @yuuotosaka3 @double-black-dazai @fyodorstolenushanka @ttaiyaki @itsnovariella @black-rose-29 @fyodorscumsock @ayshaashaya @qxxstuff @serenareiss @atsvsh1 @dilucshandholder @reiikonee @1-800-mocha

@xvocadooo @hexiisexii @cupxfcxffee @jodidann @Happymoon16 @yumidepain @nchuuyahq @janeinerz @Aaronthegreatestsimp @fanfiction-waifu @KimxKiba @Morigumy @villainouspotential @ashthemadwriter @mrsdostoevsky @nikolaisgoofyahhhat @yeonwoomyheartbelongstoyou @hellgirlwhore @c4xcocoa @lyrstybsd @angelsrunes @wuaoqu @disa-ster @aspookyscaryghost @nikolaisboner @urgodmoon @polish-anon @arisu-chan4646 @eroscastle @somnobun @birbysaur @Senpaible @hyunlixie143 @dababyurmom @4nthonyyliving @Chxrry-doll

[miniwheat77]

Dime. (Joel x Hairstylist!Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, hefty age gap, divorced!joel, mentions of violence, unprotected sex, NO MINORS!

The first time you cut Joel's hair, it was nothing short of a disaster. You were brand new out of cosmetology school, 19, and he was your first men's haircut ever out of school without the supervision of an instructor. His wife is who convinced him to try you out.

He didn't want to go back, but his wife begged him to give you another chance. She knew the potential you had. Joel wanted to make his lady happy, so he did. He kept going back to you and by the third time you had cut his hair, you were a master at it. Eventually, it only took you around 15 minutes to cut his hair, and he liked how short the appointments were. Of course, he always made jokes about the first time you cut his hair.  You always blushed and took the jokes like a good sport, making jokes back of course. Joel really liked you, he thought you were a nice young lady.

He liked that 15 minutes every month or so. It was peaceful being around.

One day, Joel was coming in for a haircut. He'd made his appointment a little later than usual, his hair was grown out a little too much. When he steps inside, the bell doesn't ring, and he notices it's gone from the top of the door. You're sweeping up shattered glass, and when you look up, noticing him finally. You've got tear stains on your cheeks. "Oh... hey Joel. You can come take a seat." You smile, gliding your hands down your apron. You were clearly distressed. There's a man at the front, he looks annoyed. "If you're only going to do half of the service, than I'm only going to pay for half of the service." He says. He's got an attitude. Joel takes one look at him, and realizes he's clearly who's made you so upset. "Is something wrong?" He asks. "Yeah, I wanted a haircut and a wax but this little bitch says she won't do it." He rolls his eyes. "Woah." Joel narrows his eyes. "I'm not certified to do waxing, only Hair." You mumble. The man roles his eyes. "Ah, there's your explanation." Joel nods. The man shakes his head. "She is too certified. She's just being lazy."

Joel crosses his arms. "Ah. Ya see that beautiful sign right there?" He points.

It's a black sign, in bright red letters it says 'WE HAVE THE RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE TO ANYONE.'

"Even if she was certified and didn't want to do it, she don't have to do it. So maybe you should just go." Joel is fuming. You're such a kind girl, and this guy is such a prick. "I still have to pay for my shitty haircut."

"It's on the house, get out. And don't come back either or I'll throw you out next time."

The man releases a huff, mumbling under his breath. He can see the weight leaving your shoulders. "Thank you, Joel." You look down. "It's okay, no worries. That guy is a real prick." He rolls his eyes. He sits down in your chair, and you tie the little neck strip around him. Throwing your cape around him. "Did he break that?" He asks. "Uh.. yeah. He was flailing his arms around and knocked it over."

Joel shakes his head. "Asshole." He mutters. "I mean he's not wrong, I am certified to do waxing, he just has a nasty track record." You roll your eyes. Joel nods his head as you start working on his hair. "What kinda track record?" He asks. "Being a complete pervert. Saying gross things to the girls waxing him." You roll your eyes. He lets out a scoff, agreeing with you without moving his head. "Gross. Last thing you girls wanna see in here is old man parts." He chuckles. "Just certain old men. Some of em aren't so bad." You send him a sly smile. He narrows his eyes, smiling. "What's that supposed to mean?" He laughs. "Ever seen Jeffrey Dean Morgan?" You smirk. Looking at him in the mirror. He rolls his eyes. "Isn't that guy my age?" His eyes widen. "He's 57 I believe." You laugh. "That's my exact age! Jesus Christ." He laughs. Trying not to move his head. "You naughty girl." He laughs.

You finish his hair up pretty quickly, and by the time Joel is getting ready to leave, you're already cheered up from the asshole before. He walks up to the counter to pay. "Uh.. it's on the house. For being pest control." You smile. "Ah, I can leave ya a tip than can't I?" He smiles. You spin the little screen around, letting him type in the custom amount he wishes. When he finishes your eyes catch sight of that same man waiting outside. "Oh shit." You mumble. Joel turns his head, seeing him. "Uh.. why don't you cash all of your stuff out, I'll walk you out." He nods. "Thanks Joel, I'll be quick." You mumble. You pull your apron off and Joel realizes the shirt you've got on is a little extra.

Tight tank top, showing off your tits. He has to look away quickly. You gather up all of your items, doing whatever else you needed to do.

"Joel!" You look at him wide eyed. "What?" He asks. "You left way too much for a tip." You roll your eyes. "I paid for his haircut too. I'm the one who told him to get lost. Plus now you can go buy a bottle of tequila to forget about today." He smiles. "I'd like that, but unfortunately I'm only 20." You laugh. He smiles. "Ah. Go get a Pepsi than. Meet halfway." He chuckles. Earning a smile from you. You tuck everything away into your purse, following him outside. "Thank you Joel. I appreciate it." You mumble. The man is still waiting outside, but he starts to leave upon seeing Joel by your side until you're inside of your car.

Joel stares him down as he leaves.

—

You're not one to talk about your life. You don't really talk about yourself or anything going on. Joel has noticed it, you always ask him about his fast paced life and have never once mentioned or have even brought up your own life. He always thought it was a little odd, but brushed it off. Assumed it was some kind of habit you'd picked up along the way in your industry.

The next time he came into the shop, about a month after the incident, he walks inside. He heard running water, but didn't see anyone. He heard you hiss out in one of the back rooms, letting out a "shit!" As something clearly hurt you. "Hello?" He calls. He hears the water shut off, and you emerge from the back room. "Oh, hi Joel." You smile. "This a bad time?" He asks. "No, no. Come on over." You pat your chair. You seem more stressed than usual. "Something going on?" He asks. "No, just busy today."

"Not one to talk about your life hm?" He smiles. "No, it's a shit show really," you laugh.

"You want me to wash your hair?" You ask.

"Yeah, sure." He nods.

He follows you back to the sink, and you wash his hair, styling it the way he likes it. It's a little messy, he doesn't do much with it.

"So where's Irene, I haven't seen her in ages." You ask him as he's checking out. He laughs, looking down. "I thought you knew." He mumbles. "Hm?" You look confused.

"I caught her with some other guy 'bout... 15 months or so ago. Little over a year. Nasty divorce and she moved across the country." Your eyes are wide. "Are you serious? I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

He laughs. "Ah, it's alright. It took me way too long to dodge that bullet." He shakes his head. "I think we all have one of those." You giggle. "Howcome you're the only one in here? I don't think I've ever seen anybody else." He asks. "Ah.. the old owner was an old lady, she passed away kind've unexpectedly. Her kids inherited it, sold the shop to me for little to nothing." You shrug. "Oh, so you own it?" He asks. "Yeah." You smile. "Holy shit. That's awesome." He laughs. "Yeah it is, it's not so bad. Although it consumes like all of my time." You giggle. "I turned 21 a couple weeks back and have yet to go do anything."

"No way..." he laughs. "You didn't go out with your friends?"

"Bold of you to assume I have friends when I work all of the time." You smile. "Alright, fine. Cmon. I'll take you."

"What?" You laugh. "Nah, you have no idea what you're missing out on. Cmon. I'll take ya." He laughs. "Right now?" You ask. "Mhm. Come on."

You laugh, looking down. "Okay okay. Let me clean up." You smile.

You clean up the mess you've made and step into the back for a minute to take your apron off. Thankful you wore decent clothes today. For some reason, excitement settles into your belly. You've always had a thing for Joel, but you knew he was married. You brush your black v-neck off and adjust your pants to sit a little higher on your waist. Folding the bottoms of your pants up and making them look even. Walking out of the bathroom. You notice his eyes lingering on your chest, licking his lips.

Maybe this night was going to end in your favor.

You finish locking up and he leads you out to his truck, opening up the passenger door for you. "You know Irene was fucking jealous of you." He laughs, saying it as he pulled out of the parking lot. "What? Why?" You ask. "Don't really know what started it to be honest. She's the one who made me come to you in the first place. But one day you touched my chest wrong. And she started accusing me after that. I imagine that's around the time she started seeing that other guy."

You laugh. "That's gold. Love intimidating other women." You smile. "Really?" He smiles. "Why?"

"Cause I'm the least threatening person ever." You shrug. Joel laughs, pulling into a bar parking lot. It's a small dive bar.

"This where you like to hang out?" You turn to him. "Yeah. Spent a lot of time here after everything happened. Only place in town they don't water their liquor down." He laughs. "Gotcha."

Joel leads you inside and the bartender smiles when he sees him. "Joel, little early ain't it?"

"Lil bit. But my friend here just turned 21."

You can feel blush rising to your cheeks as he looks you up down. "Friend huh?" He smirks. He picks up a bottle, pouring something into a shot glass. "First one's on the house." He slides it to you.

Joel can see how skeptical you are at first. "S'alright. Go on."

You pick up the shot glass, knocking it back and setting it down. Not even making a face.

He laughs.

"Yeah, just cause they turn 21 doesn't mean they don't got any experience." The bartender laughs.

"Pretty little thing aintcha?" He smiles. You smile, looking down. "She cuts hair down at the little shop by the canal."

"Really? I'll have to send my wife in. She's always bitchin' about her hair lady." He rolls his eyes. "Anyways, here's this, I gotta go swap out my kegs." He passes over a bottle of Jack and a couple glasses.

"You drank before?" He asks. "Nah I just didn't want to look like a pussy."

He laughs, maybe a little too hard.

You spend the next couple of hours chatting over the bottle of Jack you're sharing. You don't drink all that much and neither does Joel.

You excuse yourself to use the bathroom.

The dive bar is quiet because of how empty it is, and even in the bathroom you can still hear the two of them talking.

"She's kinda young for you ain't she? I mean I knew you'd move on from Irene at some point. She's a pretty young thing." He laughs. You stiffen up. "No, it ain't like that." Joel laughs. "She's a good girl, she's been cutting my hair since she was fresh outta school."

"Gotcha. She single?"

"Yeah right, I doubt she'd go for an old man like you."

"You're oblivious Joel."

"What?"

"She likes ya, can see it all over her face."

"Am I oblivious or are you just delusional?" Joel laughs. You know you shouldn't be eavesdropping. "You're telling me if that sexy little thing threw herself at you, you wouldn't fuck her? She's a dime."

"Jesus Christ..." Joel trails off. Shaking his head.

"She's young. Might even be a virgin."

"You're a nasty old man, you know that?"

"I'm just saying. You miss all the chances you don't take and if I were you, I'd be all over that unfucked pussy between her legs." He almost growls.

"Yeah, you're creeping me out right now. You're married." Joel shakes his head. He hadn't seen the man act like this before. "Ah, she ain't gonna go for a man like me. Maybe you though." He winks but you can't see it. You shake your head. "Jesus Christ.." he groans.

Unfucked pussy.

You step out of the bathroom and walk back to the bar. Seeming innocent.

"Let's get going yeah? Crowd about to spill in."

Joel throws a bunch of bills down on the counter. You wave goodbye to the creepy bartender. Just like that, you're outside.

Joel sighs. "He liked you." He shakes his head. "Yeah, I heard." You laugh. Joel cringes. He hoped you hadn't. "ah, I hoped you didn't." He groans. You're sat in his passenger seat. "Yeah, me n my "unfucked pussy" Will probably be on his mind tonight." You laugh. Joel hasn't heard words like that leave your lips before. "Jesus." He laughs.

"I mean in a way, he's not wrong." You laugh. "I'm no Virgin but I haven't been with anybody since I was like 17." You laugh. Joel runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "Yeah, I get you too. Just cause I was married don't mean shit. It's been years." He laughs.

You laugh. "You know.. I couldn't help but overhear." You turn to him. "Everytime he said something about fucking me, you never said no." He stiffens up. "I..." he shakes his head. He doesn't know what to say. "Y'know if you wanna fuck me Joel, you could just ask." You smirk. He shakes his head. "Don't tempt me sweetheart. I don't think you can take it." He laughs. "Yeah? What makes you say that?"

"I don't fuck like a stupid young boy. You ain't got a clue what I'd do to you." His knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel.

"Never been into guys my age. But I think you should let me be the judge of that." You turn in your seat to get a good look at him and he bites his lip, pulling it between his teeth. He pulls into the parking lot of your salon. Turning to look at you. "You better be careful sweetheart. Don't go getting yourself into trouble." He leans back.

This side of Joel you've never seen before. He's dark. No emotion behind his darkened eyes.

"What, you gonna hurt me?"

"Nah. I ain't gonna hurt ya." He adjusts himself in his seat. "I'm rough as hell but I ain't gonna try to hurt ya." He gives you a sly side smile. "Than I think I'll be just fine."

He shakes his head. "Get your pants off." He nods. You listen immediately, and he likes that. You listen and that's what he needs. You tug them down your legs, completely off. Joel thanks himself for the tinted windows.

"Cmere baby. Get in my lap."

You move across the seat, straddling his legs. He takes a deep breath. "Fuck... Didn't think I'd get here." He laughs. sliding down into the seat further, until his cock presses against your bare entrance through his jeans. "Why's that?" You wiggle up slightly, until your face is even with his. "I don't know, just... thought you'd be against this." he rolls his eyes. "You're more laid back than I thought ya were, if only you knew the fights I got into over you." He smirks, gripping a handful of your ass.

You make Joel feel young again. Something he didn't think he'd ever feel again. He really thought that after his divorce was over, that his life was over. He felt so shocked and so taken off guard by her. He hadn't left his house outside of work and getting his hair cut. People told him to try to move on, have fun. But he thought he was too old. His life was already over, he couldn't be out going wild when he was almost 60.

He was dead wrong.

He frees his cock from his jeans and you take the next step by grasping his shaft and raising yourself up by your knees. Lowering onto him.

He hisses out, resting his head against the head rest. "Shit, you're tight baby." His hands shake a little as he reaches for your hips. He doesn't realize exactly how long it's been since he's been inside a woman. Not until he's two thrusts in feeling close already. He needed to get his head in the game before he made a fool of himself in front of you.

He grits his teeth, wrapping his arms around your hips, holding you still. He keeps you at a close distance, thrusting up into you at a brutal pace. You whine out, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn't lie. He was rough.

He wraps a hand into your hair, tugging on it slightly until you were looking at him. "Look at ya.. doing so good." He taunts. You whine out, closing your eyes. His thrusts are bruising, the tip of his cock driving into your cervix. You didn't know how much more you could take. Maybe he really was too rough for you.

He pushes your hair off of your shoulder, getting a good look at you.

"You look good like this darlin'. Been staring at these pretty tits all night." He smirks. He sees you smile even though your eyes are closed. "Keepin' up?" He taunts. "Tryin'" You giggle. He laughs. He can tell he's being a little too rough.

"That's all I can ask of ya. Get in the back." He groans.

You slide off of him, climbing over the center console and getting into the back. He tucks himself away for just a second to get out, sliding into the back seat. He closes the door and locks it. "Hands and knees."

You do it without any protest and he starts to realize it's his favorite thing about you, how willing you are to listen to him.

He grips his cock in his hand, pushing down onto the middle of your back to make you arch further for him. He lines himself up with you again, sliding in. You gasp, he feels even deeper than before.

He doesn't give you much time to adjust, thrusting in you. Your ass meet his hips with a clapping sound. He hisses again. "Fuck." He groans.

He switched positions to avoid finishing so fast but he's already close again. He feels pathetic.

"Move back on me." He breathes.

You do it, moving slightly back. He reaches forward, wrapping a hand in your hair and tugging on it slightly. You look fucking perfect. Shirt pulled down to your midsection, back arched. His cock in you. He shakes his head. Trying to put his mind anywhere else but it feels so good.

He leans over you slightly, meeting you as you push back into him.

He grips your hips and picks up his pace. He needed to get you there before he made a fool of himself. He starts a brutal pace. His hands are going to leave bruises with how hard he's gripping onto you. It's loud and his truck shakes with how hard he's fucking into you. Your moans get loud and unsteady. He's about to lose it. He's going to give in and cum. It feels so good he doesn't even care about what a fool he'll look like.

His moans are desperate and unsteady, but so are yours.

"Fuck Joel- I'm not gonna last." You whine, hand pushed underneath yourself. Rubbing circles into your clit as he abuses your cervix. "S'alright darlin. I knew you wouldn't be able to."

Joel smiles to himself, lying through his teeth.

When you let out a cry, signaling him that you've cum, he thrusts deep inside. Filling you to the hilt with his filth.

You're panting, eyes full of tears.

"Looks like you weren't gonna last long either, jerk." You punch his shoulder, hearing him laugh.

"Nah, I was hangin' on for dear life." He laughs.

Joel hasn't laughed like this in a long time. "Asshole." You roll your eyes. Smile playing on your lips. "You love it."

"Me n my fucked pussy will be on our way." You tease. "Nah I don't think so. I think you're gonna sit your pretty ass in that passenger seat and let me take you home."

"Really?" You laugh. "Really. Go on." He nods his head. You listen. Climbing over the seat again and getting dressed as he gets back out of the back seat and into the drivers seat.

"Not done with you yet." He breathes, throwing the truck in drive and pulling out of the parking lot.

[shotmrmiller]

the possibilities for bullying a girl into an inescapable marriage are endless … soap finding a girl from a catholic family, getting her into bed, then ‘accidentally’ letting it slip to her family and nodding along when her mother is like ‘you have to marry him it’s the only way to save yourself from sin’

price in vegas getting blackout drunk with some sweet thin he met at the casino bar, and both of them waking up in the morning with rings. so what if price wasn’t really that drunk? reader doesn’t need to know that.

ghost who convinces you to marry him for the benefits so he gets better housing and you get his health insurance. you think it’s purely transactional, so imagine your surprise when he starts expecting you to perform your other spousal duties and threatens to kill the guy you were gonna go on a date with.

gaz who agrees to be your fake boyfriend for a family dinner, so you don’t have to suffer through another round of ‘what do you mean you’re still single? when am i getting grandbabies?’ only to realize your mistake too late when you catch him in the kitchen with your mother, promising her she’s getting grandbabies soon.

soap's just looking at her mom like he hadn't a clue that it was that serious for "catholics" and he'll do right by them both and take her hand in marriage as if he doesn't have a crucifix around his neck that gleams against coarse hair and pale scars. as if he doesn't remember his ma giving him sharp twists to the ear because he'd made them late for sunday mass again. ofc not. and if he knows certain prayers, he'd learned for his future wife. obviously.

price is def the type to befriend the loud, drunken girl on vacation in some party city he'd just finished a job in. buys her drink after drink because she'd said she can hold her own. unsurprisingly, she was all talk no walk. she calls him handsome once, threads her fingers into his greying hair and his first stop is the nearest jewelry store. he doesn't touch the new mrs. price as she sleeps off the alcohol, he wants her awake for what he's got planned. (ghost ofc hears of his new wife and sends him a congrats text)

ghost gets signed up on tinder by soap against his knowledge will and when soap matches him with some girl only looking for fun, simon decides he's gonna give her more than that and if she's the type to try to kick him out the morning after, he's calling price to forge her signature onto a marriage certificate. (price eventually meets her and he's just like "shouldntve fed him, love. should've known he wouldn't leave." rip a girl just tryna have some sex)

kyle tells her that he needs a gf for the weekend because there's a wedding, soaps wedding actually, and she agrees. (every time she corrects him to his plus one he simply repeats himself.) he immediately goes back on his promise, "i won't even touch ya," cuz his hand is constantly roaming south, he sits her on his lap whether she wants it or not, and during the slow dancing he's prying her mouth open with his for, "just one kiss." if he fucks her in the groom's dressing room during the dinner, no he didn't. (he needs his hands on her, no one believes that they're dating:(