#but is was always something much deeper too

[catcze]

NSFW!! 18+ ONLY !! — Sylus. fem&afab reader, he fingers u good morning, banter, lovesick Sylus ♡

Thinking thoughts rn about waking up on the first morning of the new year to Sylus’s kisses on your face and his hand on your inner thigh with his fingers trailing higher and higher with each second. The way he hums when he feels you stir awake, the way he grins into your lips when you kiss back against him, still sleepy but so willing to return his affection.

“Let’s start the new year with a bang, shall we?” He asks, crimson eyes sparkling with coyness— and you laugh, because you’re too sleepy to tell if that was a pun, an innuendo, both, or something in between. You just know that goodness, you love him so much.

And Sylus huffs, because he wasn’t expecting you to be laughing at him when you should be gasping his name. His hand slipping under your sleep shorts remedies that, however, and soon your laughter dissolves into a soft gasp of arousal when his broad hand cups your pussy, roughened fingers stroking your folds through the fabric of your cotton panties.

Sylus groans alongside you, feeling the way you respond to him so beautifully— your pussy knows who’s taking care of her, and she’s already growing wet under his simple touch.

“You laugh, but you’re already so wet for me,” he murmurs, hot breath brushing across your lips. “Do you want me to do something about it, baby? Hm?”

A whine is pulled from your throat when he pushes more insistently against your panties, stroking you just a touch rougher now, teasing your little cunt. “Yes,” you mewl, voice still rough from the haze of sleep. “Sylus, don’t fucking tease—”

“Manners,” he scolds, though he grins. His other hand lightly taps your thigh. “Is that any way to say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’?”

You scowl up at him, displeased at being treated like a little kitten who’s merely showing her claws, though the haze of pleasure that clouds your eyes dulls the edge of it. “Please fuck me, before I shoot you again. Thank you.”

And the bastard laughs, the sound sending shivers up your spine.

“Yeah, alright. Wouldn’t want to start the year with that kind of bang,” Sylus concedes, because he always concedes when it comes to you. His fingers tug the seat of your panties aside as they finally delve into the soft slickness of your pussy, two fingers dipping into your cunt, and you whine. He grins, seeing how your eyes flutter shut and your body shudders.

“Just relax,” he murmurs to you, over the sound of you whimpering his name as his fingers push deeper, up to his knuckles now, and the way your hand darts to his wrist, pulling him close, begging for more. “Just lay there and look pretty, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Full on nasty smut soon I swear let me just get motivated enough to finish it lol

Comms [ ♡ ]

[melminli]

Pink Pony Club

summary - you weren't expecting much from your evening in a shitty bar, but then you saw a pretty woman sitting next to you.

pairing: cho hyun-ju x fem. reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: wlw, angst w/ comfort, fluff, a bit transphobia, pre squid game au

a/n: hyun-ju was my fav this season and i literally love her so much - she deserves the world and more😔💕

the request.

You looked bored at your drink while you caressed its round surface with your index finger. Your friends had finally managed to drag you to one of their favorite bars and, you didn't really enjoy being here, as you had expected since it was pretty, well - straight.

You were fine with it at first, when you all sat down at a table and just talked and laughed together. However, after a while a group of men sat down at your table - with everyone's permission, of course, but you still weren't the biggest fan of that decision. The only reason you didn't mind was that your friends seemed to be having a genuinely good time with the guys and that they weren't too bad. You still excused yourself from the table after a while, because one of them wouldn't stop subtly flirting with you even when did not hide your lack of interest. Sitting lonely at the bar counter wasn't too bad, you guessed.

I'll just finish my drink and then leave. You thought to yourself, still bored, and glanced subtly at the woman next to you after noticing how she seemed to be moving around quite nervously for a while. “Hey, are you alright?” you whispered to her in a soft voice after you moved closer to her side.

She returned your gaze slightly surprised and seemed to try to make herself even smaller after your attention was focused on her. “Ah, yes everything is fine. there is nothing to worry about…”

A few guys a little further away from you suddenly started to cackle ugly after she finished talking and you didn't miss how the woman next to you turned her eyes back to the counter - obviously feeling uncomfortable by what they were saying.

“Did you hear that voice? It's even deeper than yours!” he said to his friend, who only agreed with a shocked look on his face as he pointed his hand in your direction. “Come on man, that's not fair! Have you even seen how rugged that dude is? I mean you do realize that's not a real - you know…”

You took an annoyed breath as you looked across the room and bit your tongue to keep you from spitting in their hideous faces. Though, it was pretty hard to restrain yourself since you really wanted to. "Assholes.” you just uttered while staring at their heads with a hateful look, imagining them exploding.

“Just ignore them…” said the woman next to you with a gentle voice after noticing your reaction. “What they say doesn't bother me anyway.”

And even though she said that you knew it did because it always did. You returned your attention back to her and introduced yourself to her after taking the last sip of your drink. “And what's your name, pretty?”

She seemed to be caught off guard a little when she heard you say that. “Oh, ehm…” she stumbled a little over her words. “It's ehm Hyun-ju. My name is Hyun-ju.”

You smiled. “Pretty like you. It suits you.” you complimented her and noticed how the weird guys from the corner were still watching you. “Hey, do you want to get out of here?” you asked and were glad when she nodded. “Well, come with me, I know a good spot,” you told her and took her hand in yours.

You gently pulled her off the chair with you and led her out of the stuffy bar, feeling like you could breathe again when your nose met the fresh air. “I was really close to beating those guys up,” you told her as you walked hand in hand with her. Hyun-ju giggled lightly, as if it was hard for her to imagine you doing something like that. You looked at her in disbelief. “What, you don't believe me? I'm totally serious, really!”

She tried to hide her smile, but barely managed it. “No, I believe you.” she replied, but you weren't really convinced by her answer. You just hummed when you finally noticed the store. “Look there! I hope you're hungry, because this place makes the best japchea.” you told her happily while holding the door open for her because a long time had passed since you last went to this little restaurant.

Luckily, there weren't many people here at this time of day, so you managed to get a good seat for two. “Sorry, I didn't even ask if you wanted to eat japchea. They also have lots of other things if you want, my treat.” you winked at her and Hyun-ju noticed how you cuddled your hands against your cheeks, as if they were still warm from the alcohol.

“Thank you, but japchea is fine. I will trust your recommendation,” she replied shyly and watched as you shouted your order with two fingers in the air to the chef, who gave you an all-clear with his thumb. “They don't have a waiter here, so…” you explained, automatically putting your hand back on hers without really noticing.

Well, you didn't until Hyun-ju's eyes turned to it and it was only then that you realized you were probably being a little too handsy. “Oh, I'm sorry about that.” you quickly apologized when you quickly pulled your hand back. “I really didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, you're probably not even into other women?” you let the question hang in the air, while you simultaneously cursed yourself for even asking that.

Hyun-ju blinked slightly in surprise while she played nervously with her hair. You knew at that moment that you had fucked up and prevented yourself from showing your disappointment. Unknown to you, she was thinking about something entirely else right now. So she was flirting with me the whole time? I didn't even realize, how embarrassing. “Are…are you?” she asked tensely, almost slapping her hand over her face at her stupid question. Of course she is, she just said it.

You laughed lightly with one eyebrow raised. “Do I like women? Hell yeah.” you just said, finding it a little funny how she acted right now. cute.

Hyun-ju was used to attracting the attention of girls before starting her transition. She even had a few relationships with them and liked it, but dating was one of the many things that became more than just difficult for her after she officially came out. “I'm a trans woman,” she finally said, even though she knew that you knew.

You just leaned forward with a grin. She hadn't turned you down, that's all you cared about. “I know,” you said, watching how she shyly avoided your gaze while crossing her arms in front of her. “You don't have to hide. I meant it when i said that you're very pretty.”

Hyun-ju slowly met your gaze and this time it was her who initiated physical contact with you. She held your hand softly. “I think you're really pretty too,” she said, and at that moment, you were both pretty glad that you went to that shitty bar today, even if you'd never go there again.

[mya-valentine]

Headcanon: They Realize They Have Feelings For You

Characters: Zoro, Law, Ace, and Kid

Roronoa Zoro

Zoro doesn't immediately realize he likes you. At first, he just notices that he feels unusually protective or that he pays extra attention to your movements during battles or on the ship.

He figures it out when someone else flirts with you, and he feels an unexpected flash of irritation. That’s when it clicks: he doesn’t just care about you as a crewmate.

Zoro tries to act normal but ends up being more awkward than usual. He might sit closer to you during meals or offer to spar with you more often, though he won’t admit why.

His way of showing affection is quiet and practical. He might share his sake with you or let you rest against him during downtime. These little things mean more than words to him.

Trafalgar D. Water Law

Law notices his feelings during a quiet moment, like when he watches you interact with the crew or when you’re bandaging his wounds. He’s a logical guy, so he dissects his emotions privately.

At first, he distances himself to analyze his feelings. He’s scared that caring too much for someone could be a weakness, especially in his dangerous world.

Law starts sneaking glances at you during meetings or missions. He tries to be subtle, but anyone who’s paying attention can see the softness in his gaze.

He’s always been protective of his crew, but with you, it’s more personal. He goes out of his way to make sure you’re safe, even if it means risking himself.

Portgas D. Ace

Ace isn’t the type to overthink his emotions. When he realizes he likes you, it hits him like a freight train, and he’s immediately overwhelmed by it.

He becomes even more playful and flirty with you. It’s his way of hiding the fact that his feelings are deeper than just casual interest.

Ace struggles to keep his feelings to himself, so he might accidentally blurt something out. For example, he might call you “cute” in the middle of a fight or while teasing you, only to get flustered afterward.

He shows his affection through gestures, like sharing food, bringing you small gifts, or staying up late to keep you company on watch duty.

Eustass Kid

Kid is stubborn, so he denies his feelings at first. He convinces himself it’s just admiration for your strength or respect for your skills, not anything deeper.

He gets unreasonably annoyed when other people show interest in you or when you seem too close to someone else. His crew quickly catches on, teasing him relentlessly.

Kid isn’t good at being soft, so his way of showing he likes you is through tough love. He might train with you harder than anyone else or give you blunt (but well-meaning) advice.

Despite his gruff exterior, he lets his guard down around you. Maybe you catch him tinkering with something for his ship or find him enjoying a quiet moment, and he doesn’t mind you seeing that side of him.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[miihho]

can you please write the type of guy for jun ho (the policeman)😍😍

THE KIND OF GUY

(squid game edition boys)

Hwang Jun ho

SFW

—He’s the kind of guy who’d wait for the right person, for a relationship that felt genuine and effortless, where you wouldn’t have any worries or regrets when opening up and sharing your secrets. He would never rush or settle for something that didn’t feel real. When he finally fell in love with you, he’d be determined to make you feel the same. He’d take the time to really understand you, not just your likes and dislikes, but the deeper parts of who you are. He’d remember the little things, like the type of flowers you adored, your favorite candies, or even the specific kind of food that made your eyes light up with joy.

Each thoughtful gesture would be his way of showing how much he cared, how much he was willing to give. But what he didn’t realize was that you had already fallen first. You had fallen for the quiet moments, for the way he cared without expectation, for the sincerity in his actions. He just didn’t know that while he was falling deeper, you had already given him your heart without him even asking.

—He’s the kind of guy who would slip up behind you while you're cooking, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head gently on your shoulder or atop yours, as if grounding himself in your warmth.

—He’s the kind of guy who would feed you while leaving his own food untouched, insisting that you eat first. When you tell him you can manage on your own, he’d simply refuse, because seeing you enjoy your meal and knowing you're full is all he needs to feel content.

—He would smile whenever you kissed him. He just couldn’t help it >< The moment your lips touched his, that soft, uncontrollable smile would spread across his face. It wasn’t just because he loved you, but because every kiss felt like a reminder of how lucky he was to have you, how much he cherished each small, perfect moment with you. Even in the middle of a kiss, his heart would flutter with a joy so pure it couldn't be contained.

—He’s the kind of guy who would say, "Come here," and pull you into his arms when you're sitting too far from him, just wanting to keep you close.

—He’s the kind of guy who can’t take his eyes off of you, always lost in the way you move, the way you speak, the way you exist. He keeps telling you, "You're so beautiful, baby," or "You're so pretty, Y/n," as if those words could capture even a fraction of the admiration he feels for you. Every glance he gives you is filled with awe, wanting you to know just how stunning you are to him, every single moment.

If you’re wearing heels, he would immediately notice the discomfort on your face and insist that you wear his shoes instead, wanting you to feel comfortable. When you both get home, he’d take your feet in his hands and gently massage away the pain, his touch soothing and tender as he made sure you felt relaxed and cared for after a long day.

—He’s the kind of guy who will baby you in the most loving way, always putting your needs first. Whether it's carrying your bags even when you could manage, washing the dishes without a second thought, or gently putting your heels or shoes on for you, he finds joy in taking care of you. If you have a favorite dish, he’ll dedicate time to learning how to cook it just for you, hoping nothing more than to see that smile light up your face. Each meal he prepares is a gesture of love, a constant reminder of how deeply he cherishes you and how far he’ll go to make you feel special.

—He’s the kind of guy who will baby you in the most loving way, always putting your needs first. Whether it's carrying your bags even when you could manage, washing the dishes without a second thought, or gently putting your heels or shoes on for you, he finds joy in taking care of you. If you have a favorite dish, he’ll dedicate time to learning how to cook it just for you, hoping nothing more than to see that smile light up your face. Each meal he prepares is a gesture of love, a constant reminder of how deeply he cherishes you and how far he’ll go to make you feel special.

—He’s the kind of guy who would keep hair ties on his wrist just for you. If you're eating and your hair starts getting in the way, he’d reach over, gently pull your hair back, and tie it up for you, without a second thought.

—He would caress your face softly as you sleep, his fingers tracing the gentle curves of your cheeks. Watching you so peacefully, he’d silently admire you, marveling at how beautiful you are, every feature perfect in his eyes. With a quiet smile, he’d think to himself just how lucky he was to have you, savoring the moment as he let the tenderness of his love wash over him.

—He’s the kind of guy who would cuddle you while you're watching a movie, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. But even though the movie is playing, his attention would probably be on you, his eyes soft as he watches every little expression you make. When you catch him staring, you’d ask why, and he’d simply smile and say nothing, his gaze never leaving you, saying nothing because the answer is clear: he’s lost in the beauty of just being with you.

—Hes the kind of guy who never missed the little things, like the sidewalk rule. Every time you walked together, he instinctively positioned himself closest to the street, shielding you without a second thought. It was his quiet way of saying, “I’ll always keep you safe,” through actions rather than words, a subtle yet profound reminder of how deeply he cared.

—He’s the kind of guy who simply wants to be beside you, lying in bed with no rush. He’d gently shift to pull you closer, finding his way to your body as if he couldn’t resist being near you. He’d hold you, offering a quiet reassurance, shielding you from any nightmares that might creep in. Without even thinking, his hand would find yours, the connection so natural, even while you sleep. He’d press a soft kiss to your forehead, savoring the moment, feeling your steady heartbeat beneath his chest as you rest peacefully in his arms. In the quiet of the night, your bodies would naturally intertwine, a silent bond that needed no words, just the comfort of being together. He’d simply want to stay there, wrapped up in the serenity of being with you.

—When Jun Ho was working, his mind would often drift to you, unbidden but welcome. He’d find himself smiling at the thought of your beautiful features—your laughter, the way your eyes lit up, the sound of your voice. It didn’t matter how stressful the day was; just the memory of you was enough to brighten his mood and make everything feel lighter. You were his favorite distraction, the one thought that made every day better.

— He’s a respectful and sweet guy who’s never afraid to show affection. He’s loyal, always by your side, whether it’s going on walks hand-in-hand, joking around, or simply watching the stars together in peaceful silence. He’ll lay down with you and talk about anything and everything, remembering all the little details about you, because he truly listens. His style matches yours, making the two of you feel like a perfect pair. He loves sharing meals with you, his favorite moments being spent with you close by, his love language spoken through physical touch.

He’s the kind of guy who doesn't judge, offering random compliments and reassurance just when you need it. He’s always open about his emotions, never hiding how he feels, making sure you know where you stand in his heart. His cute smile and tall frame, along with his nice sense of style, are just the icing on the cake. What really matters is the depth of his affection for you, and how he makes you feel loved and valued every single day.

—He’s the kind of guy who would work tirelessly, putting in the effort to build a future because he wants to give you everything you deserve. His goal isn’t just financial success—it’s about making sure he can provide for you, spoil you with all the things you’ve ever dreamed of, and create a life where you never have to worry. Above all, he wants to wife you up, to make you feel cherished and loved, and give you a life filled with happiness, comfort, and everything your heart desires.

—In the beginning, he would be a little scared to touch you, unsure of doing something wrong. He’d always ask for your consent, making sure that you were comfortable with every step. If you ever told him to stop or if he saw that you were hurt, he would immediately pull back, respecting your boundaries without question. His care for you would always come first, making sure you felt safe and respected, no matter what.

NSFW

—He's the kind of guy eho would kiss you with SUCH intensity, like he couldn’t get enough of you, completely captivated by your lips. His passion would be undeniable, and if you ever found yourself out of breath, he would pull away just for a moment, giving you a chance to catch your breath before devouring you again. He just wants to feel connected to you in that intimate, consuming way:(

—He's the kind of guy possesses a possessive nature, frequently holding both of your hands while engaging in intimate activities with you. His affectionate gestures extend beyond physical touch, as he often kisses your neck, leaving distinctive love marks for all to see, proclaiming your status as his to anyone who lays eyes on you.

—He’s the kind of guy who’s never been in a rush for children, but when he saw his friends with their little ones, calling them “Papa” and “Mama,” something inside him shifted. A sudden ache, a yearning for a future with you—one where he could see your belly round with his child. Eventually, the thought of it all became too real, and one day, he asked you to make it happen. When you agreed, his heart swelled with joy, and though it was his first time with you in such a way, He's gentle, always careful not to hurt you, especially during intimate moments. Why? Because he got a big dick.

His hands held your hips with a firm yet tender grip, his breath coming in heavy, labored gasps as he endeavored to ease himself inside you. Despite his utmost patience and the slow, deliberate thrusts, he felt your body instinctively resist, clenching tightly around him

"Fuck..." he muttered, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he tried to catch his composure. "You're so tight baby, i don't think I'm gonna fit. I'm scared that I'm gonna hurt you."

He craved to be buried so deep within you that your body would have no recourse but to accommodate him, to force his release to take root and grow inside your belly. The thought drove him to the brink of madness, his massive member throbbing with the need to claim you completely.

"Baby, I’m sure it will fit," you murmured, your voice soft yet reassuring as your eyes locked onto his. "Just take it nice and slowly," you added, a gentle smile gracing your lips. His gaze, filled with hesitation and worry, lingered on you for a moment before he nodded, trusting you completely.

He exhaled sharply, every muscle in his body coiled with restraint. “Alright, then relax for me sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as his lips ghosted over your jaw, his hands moved with deliberate care, sliding lower to steady you.

With a growl, he pressed his tip forward slowly, his moans mingling with the feeling of your walls stretching and fluttering around him. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. You’re doing so well for me,” he murmured. With each careful thrust, you felt yourself surrendering more, wanting him to fill you completely. Inch by inch, he expanded you wider than you ever thought possible, and when he was finally buried deep inside you, a primal groan escaped his lips.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” he asked, his voice laced with concern as he searched your eyes. You nodded, and a wave of relief washed over him. “See?” you teased softly, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “I told you I can take you.”

His heart swelled with affection at your words, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “I’m just glad you’re comfortable,” he replied, his brow relaxing. Then, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, pouring all his relief and desire into that moment, deepening the connection that bound you both.

After breaking away from the kiss, he began to move, feeling your body welcome him so perfectly that moans escaped his lips with each careful thrust. “Fuck, I love you so much,” Jun-ho breathed out in a deep, breathless groan, his grip on you tightening as he leaned closer, his words thick with need. “I want to do this all the time—every day, baby. I want to get you pregnant with my baby,” he rasped, his eyes half-lidded in pure pleasure, completely lost in the sensation.

Each thrust pulled the words from his lips, as if he couldn’t contain himself. His body trembled with bliss as the thought of having you like this repeatedly only fueled his desire. With a desperate urgency, he quickened his pace, grinding against you, determined to make this moment stretch into eternity. (You would be adorned with love bites all over your body, and your insides filled to the brim with him—so much that it began to drip out)

—He also possess incredible stamina in bed, playfully requesting just one more round, which often turned into several more.

—Jun Ho would always take care of you after sex, carefully cleaning your body with tender hands. He’d run a warm washcloth over your skin, savoring the intimacy of the moment. His gentle touch would soothe both your body and mind, ensuring you felt cherished and relaxed. He’d leave soft kisses along your shoulders and neck, whispering sweet nothings that made your heart flutter. He wanted you to know just how special you were to him, ensuring you felt loved and valued long after the passion had faded.

—If he's getting freaky he'll clean your pussy by eating you out :3

[luvleyshif4]

bf!rafe Cameron x gf!reader

Summery~ bf!rafe coming back home from work to find a flustered and horny gf!reader but she can’t say it cause she’s shy.

Content~ Sexual tension, shy reader, slight humping, neck kissing, use of words like ‘princess, baby’ etc…

Authors Note~ Heyy!! I’m kinda trying out a new format so that’s why this looks like what it looks like… also this was so yum to write idk why but I just lowkey love this so much. Enjoy💗💗

Rafe walks through the front door, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, tie loose around his neck, and hair messy from a long day at work. He drops his keys on the counter, letting out a sigh before he catches sight of you leaning against the kitchen island.

you stood there, clutching a glass of water in an effort to distract yourself from the way your stomach flips every time you see him.

"Hey, princess," he greets, his deep voice tinged with affection as he crosses the room in a few easy strides.

He reaches you, his hands immediately finding your waist like they always do, and presses a soft, casual kiss to your lips.

You're breathless by the time he pulls away, though he doesn't notice, already moving toward the fridge. "Miss me?" he teases lightly, throwing a glance over his shoulder as he grabs a water bottle.

"Always," you mumble, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. He shoots you a quick grin, but you can tell he doesn't think much of it. He's too busy twisting the cap off the bottle and leaning against the counter opposite you, taking a long sip.

"So," he starts, setting the bottle down and resting one hand on the counter behind him. "Dad had me running in circles all day. He's got this big deal he's working on, and guess who got stuck doing all the legwork."

You nod along, trying to seem like you're listening, but your eyes keep drifting to the way his chest looked with the first few buttons open, the way his throat moves when he talks. His voice, low and casual, is like a drug, making your pulse race.

He's oblivious to your inner turmoil, stepping closer to you as he continues talking. His hands naturally find your waist again as he leans in slightly, not because he's trying to fluster you, but because it's just second nature for him to be close to you.

"And then-" His words trail off as, without even thinking, he lifts you effortlessly onto the counter. The movement is so smooth, so casual, that it barely registers for him.

But for you, it's like a spark to a flame.

Your breath hitches as he sets you down, his hands still lingering on your hips.

He doesn't notice, though. He's still talking, still distracted, one hand on the counter beside you and the other lazily brushing against your hip.

It's too much. You can't take it anymore.

You slide forward slightly, your hips brushing against his, and suddenly, his voice falters.

He looks down at the contact, then back up at you, his expression flickering between confusion and realization.

"Oh," he breathes, his voice dropping an octave.

You feel like your face is on fire, but you can't stop yourself. Your hips roll gently, testing the waters, and you swear you see his jaw clench.

"Baby..." His tone shifts, softer, deeper.

His hands tighten on your hips as he steps closer, his body completely flush against yours now. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

You mumble something incoherent, too shy to respond, but the way his lips curve into a grin makes it clear he understands now.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, "Too shy, huh?" He chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

His mouth trails down your jaw to your neck, peppering soft, teasing kisses along your skin. Each press of his lips leaves you breathless, and before you realize it, your hands are tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

Your breathing grows heavier, the sensation of his lips on your neck too much and not enough all at once. A quiet sound escapes your lips, a soft moan that you can't hold back, and he freezes for a moment.

"Alright," he murmurs, his voice dropping further as he effortlessly lifts you off the counter and walks towards the bedroom. "Let me take care of you."

Authors Note~ I was thinking If there could be a part 2 for this…and if there could..how would it be? LEMME KNOW IF I SHOULD MAKE ONE💗

[cheetabites]

☆彡 peppers ˳༄꠶

character: hwang in-ho / 001 / frontman

˳༄꠶ summary: five sfw and nsfw general headcannons for the frontman

sfw headcannons

★ i truly believe he’d be a devoted partner to you; he literally accepted loans / bribes - loosing his job in the process - just to help his sick wife and eventually entered the squid games just to pay for her treatment

★ when he was declared victorious he was so happy to go home. but when he arrived back and was met with the news that his wife had already died, he fell into a raging depression; scapegoating the blame of her death onto others due to his immense grief. eventually he decided to go back to the games because he didn’t believe there was really anything out there for him anymore

★ deep down there’s a small part of himself that regrets giving jun-ho his kidney - if he had sold it he could’ve payed for the treatment earlier; but this hard truth was something he tried his best to repress because he felt ashamed for thinking that way, after all he still loved his brother

★ he knows about the organ harvesting. while he’s not directly involved in it, he makes no effort to stop it - if anything, he thinks it’s a good use since it would be a waste to incinerate usable organs, and because it’ll ‘help’ other people like his deceased wife (people who need transplants)

★ he still carries a photograph of his wife even while running the games, although he makes sure to never leave it out in the open. it’s always on his person one way or another. when he looks at her picture though, it’s a brief period of clarity where he reflects on his actions and what she’d think of him if she saw what he did and continues to do

nsfw headcannons

★ he’s a dom, no doubt about it. although in the beginning of your relationship he’s more of a hard dom, the further you progress with your relationship waters that down a bit; he needs a deep emotional connection with his partner to get there though

★ he’s really into marking your body; primarily though, it’s mostly hickies that he leaves on your skin - usually on your neck or on your thighs. he wouldn’t leave anything deeper than tiny purple bruises. to him, leaving bruises - that come from hard impact play, spanking, ect - on your body is unsightly and it leaves him disgusted

★ one of his favorite sex positions is definitely doggystyle. he seems to be the guy that’ll lay his arm around your front just to pull you close, so he can watch you tilt your head back with that look of ecstasy. he sometimes wraps a tie around your neck to pull your head back if he wants to fuck hard and fast

★ whenever you guys are fucking in missionary, he’ll have one of his hands wrapped around your neck as he degrades you - sometimes adding some faux pity into his tone whenever you whine that it’s too much or that it’s too big

★ he overstimulates you as a punishment. saying things like “oh now you’re complaining that it’s too much when you couldn’t even control yourself while i was away” or “you say you can’t take anymore even though you keep creaming all over my fingers, such a dirty whore”

the end! i hope you enjoyed <3!

[violetflowerswrites]

Sweetheart

Pairing: Logan Howlett X Female Mutant Reader

Era: X Men 1 / Trilogy

Summary: Logan and the resident therapist for the mutant school grow closer due to Logan’s resistance to her emotional manipulation powers. A friends with benefits situation naturally leads to falling for each other.

Word Count: 6.5k

Disclaimers: smoking, mentions of cheating, mentions of mental health issues (PTSD, trauma, self-harm/suicide), swearing, explicit sexual content. Consensual kissing, touching, oral sex, and p in v sex. Logan has a bit of a pain kink. 18+ mature only. Minors DNI.

A/N: I recently re-watched X1 because Logan has been on my mind since the Deadpool and Wolverine movie this past summer. And holy hell Hugh Jackman is SO cute and SO sexy and SO flirty in X1 that I couldn’t help but write this absolutely depraved, incredibly smutty (and soft!) fic. Seriously, it just kept getting longer and longer because of all the smut scenes. Enjoy!

…

The first thing you noticed was the hairy forearm laid heavily on your stomach. The heft of it acted as a natural weighted blanket, lulling you into that peaceful haze between wake and sleep.

But the laughter and squeals of kids playing in the freshly fallen snow outside your window invaded your mind with happy energy.

Excitement and adrenaline.

Winter morning sunshine and the holiday spirit.

Too bad you still hadn’t quite mastered how to dial the volume down of the outside world so you could sleep in.

With a contented sigh, you turned and gazed at the weather-tanned face of Logan, aka The Wolverine.

He was scruffy, rough around the edges, and altogether too much of a flirt to be boyfriend material.

But that was exactly how you liked your men.

Emotionally unavailable?

Check.

Morally ambiguous backstory?

Check.

Utterly ravishing in bed?

Check.

Logan and yourself definitely had a friends with benefits situation going on. Not that anyone would have bothered to say anything. Although you hoped Professor X wasn’t spending his free time dipping into the confines of your mind.

You see, you were the in-house therapist. You knew everyone’s secrets so they didn’t dare share yours. It was the best insurance policy in a school full of mutants you could have gotten.

Ever since you were young, you had always been “in-tune” with others’ emotions. Uncannily so.

Somehow you didn’t question this, but the obvious career of choice was to become a therapist.

It wasn’t until your college boyfriend cheated on you and you felt so overcome with rage that you told him to drive himself off a cliff.

And he did.

But not really.

He was so upset that you caught him in bed with another woman, that he stopped paying attention to the road on the way home and got into a little fender bender. A trip to the ER and a few bruises and a cracked rib later, it was more than enough to scare you into thinking that perhaps your influence was more than just a high EQ.

So you tested your powers. First, getting your roommate to stop stealing your food from the fridge. Then, helping your sister reconcile with your mom over Thanksgiving dinner. After that, soothing crying babies in seconds. Calming down PTSD patients in relapse episodes. Catching students in mental health crises before they did something they could never take back.

Before you knew it, you were making six figures post-grad at a fancy private clinic for celebrities in Hollywood whose biggest problems were having way too much money and convincing themselves that they had every disorder in the DSM-5.

Then, Professor X found you. And hired you on the spot to be the school counselor / therapist / shrink / lady-who-you-talk-to-lying-on- the-couch, at his school for mutants.

Sorry—at the “Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters” as it officially said on your business card.

…

The peaceful inhales and exhales of the human heating pad next to you put you in a nostalgic mood. So you burrowed down deeper into the covers and remembered handing that exact business card to the burliest man you’d ever seen in your little office.

That was the first thing you noticed when Logan walked in through the mahogany wooden door almost half a year ago now. How he filled up the door frame with not just height, but pure mass of muscle.

Jesus Christ, is this man on steroids? You remembered thinking.

The second thing you noticed was the hair. Thick and dark and messy, but pointed and shaped exactly like ears.

The third thing was his hands. Almost always in fists, as if he was ready to fight in a moment’s notice.

Which he probably was.

Ah. You had thought to yourself then.

This is why they call him The Wolverine.

“Good morning!” You greeted him warmly, trying to exude as much welcoming energy as you could.

It was met with a brick wall and a single grunt of acknowledgment.

Not fazed in the least, you gestured to a plush deep espresso-colored leather sofa that matched the soothing wood tones of the room.

“You’re not gonna ask me to lie down on that, are ya?” Logan gruffed out.

”Totally up to you.” You tried to disarm him with a smile, which he resolutely ignored. So, you handed him your business card and he begrudgingly took it, though he barely glanced at it and tossed it on top of the cushions.

Then, Logan pulled out a lighter and a cigarette from his leather jacket and took a long drag.

“Mind if I smoke?” Logan asked afterwards, with an arched brow.

Clearly he was trying to get a rise out of you, so you ignored the blatant lack of manners and simply shook your head and tried to make a joke.

“Not if you’re willing to share.” You half laughed, half coughed.

“I doubt a pretty lil thing like you smokes Malboro reds, much less a shrink.” Logan exhaled another thick column of smoke.

“You don’t know where my mouth has been.”

The words slipped out of your smiling lips before you could catch them, and you mentally slapped yourself for letting your intrusive thoughts come out.

Logan’s jaw dropped open, before he quickly shut it and kept a firm grip on his cigarette before it fell and burned a hole into Professor X’s very expensive carpet.

You felt a shift in the room. Logan’s energy was defensive, reluctant, and suspicious when he walked in.

Now, it was undoubtedly aroused.

To you.

Goddammit.

“I apologize. That wasn’t very professional of me. I’m going to be straight with you because I know that Professor X requested that you to come here. He specifically asked me to help you recover some memories, possibly work through some PTSD and figure out who…” you hesitated, searching for a polite way to phrase what you wanted to say next.

“Fucked me up with their experiments?” Logan laughed bitterly. “No need to sugar coat it, sweetheart.”

“Ahem. Yes. But now I’ve clearly given you mixed signals—“

“Mixed signals?” Logan grinned impishly. “I’m just picking up what you’re putting out.” He leaned back into the sofa.

“Well, that’s not exactly it. You see, I have the ability to read emotions.” You explained, “and influence the emotions of others.”

“Really?” Logan looked intrigued, but not quite convinced. “Tell me what I’m feeling right now.”

”You came in unwilling and totally against seeing a therapist.” You took a breath. “And now you’re curious, and a little attracted to me right now.”

“Not just a little, Doc.” He took another drag of cigarette.

“I’m sure you tell that to all the girls.” You waved away his comment, trying to not let him make you blush.

“Nah.” Logan exhaled. “Tell me I’m lying.”

“Well, I can’t do that. But I can change how you feel.” You offered.

“Try me.” He sat up in his seat, leaning forward in a challenge. “Make me not feel attracted to you.”

You furrowed your brow in concentration. Emotions were a finicky thing to manipulate, but your powers helped you “see” the feeling, almost like an aura or energy around the person.

Logan’s right now was pulsing, wafting off his body towards you, as his locked eyes with yours.

So you tried, pushing it back. Changing its shape, its color.

Its taste in your mouth.

But it stayed the same.

Sweet, sultry, and utterly addicting.

“What the hell?” You muttered. Your professionalism fell away as you were caught by surprise yet again by this man.

“What?” Logan murmured.

“It’s not…I can’t…” you trailed off, perplexed.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Logan teased, “powers don’t work on me?”

“Holy shit.” You whispered to yourself. “Holy shit.” You emphasized the expletive in shock.

Logan’s face fell when he realized you weren’t messing with him. Your powers actually didn’t work on him.

“Stay right there. Don’t you dare leave!” You thrusted a finger in his face and practically ran out the door, your eyes shining in excitement.

And you left a very confused Wolverine in his seat.

It turned out, The Wolverine had very strong resistance to psychic-type powers. Your powers were much weaker than Professor X, or even Dr. Jean Grey’s, so it was easy for him to subconsciously block them off. When you were first hired, you worked with Professor X and Jean a lot, trying to improve your manipulation abilities, but they could always tell when you were trying to change their emotions. Others like…say…Cyclops for example? Not so much.

You chuckled aloud at the juvenile pranks you pulled with Jean, like making Cyclops feel so confident he sober-karaoked on a night out, and you and Jean recorded his performance, clutching your sides with laughter.

He was actually an excellent singer, but he never let the two of you hear another note again. After all, your powers changed emotions, but not memories.

…

Logan shifted on the mattress, feeling the vibrations of your quiet laughter, and he let out a sleepy groan. You held your breath until he settled back into stillness, not meaning to wake him just yet.

Your mind wandered again to another memory.

“You’re gonna give yourself wrinkles, sweetheart.” A rough voice interrupted your concentration and smoothed your forehead with an equally rough thumb.

“Stop calling me sweetheart, it’s distracting!” You playfully shoved Logan in the shoulder and he didn’t budge an inch. The man was built like a tank and had absolutely no qualms attacking you.

With his constant, less-than-subtle flirting that is.

“How’s this for distracting?” Logan grabbed your waist and plopped you right in his lap. Your tight black skirt rode up your thighs in a decidedly unprofessional manner. Logan’s eyes immediately flickered down to your exposed skin, before he brought your hands up to the sides of head.

“Jesus Christ Logan, I’m trying to get better at this.” You huffed out exasperatedly, but you could feel Logan’s emotions charging up, along with your own.

Attraction.

Magnetic, sensual, delicious attraction to each other.

It didn’t take mutant powers to see that the two of you had chemistry. The tension had been building for months since that first day Logan stepped into your office. Now, it was another matter entirely to test if you had sexual chemistry. Which Logan always seemed to push the boundaries on.

Because now, here you were, sitting on the lap of a man who you were supposed to be helping, training with, and trying to practice your powers on.

And your attention was wholly on how thick and hard and firm his rolling thigh muscles felt under the pliant flesh of your ass. You subconsciously sank down further into his lap and Logan closed his eyes in a slow couple of blinks.

“Careful there, sweetheart.” Logan’s voice came out with more gravel than he intended.

“Oh, are we feeling a little distracted?” You whispered in a smirk, your hands practically grasping the thick aura of attraction between the two of you.

The strength of Logan’s emotion was quite literally making you feel drunk with arousal. You could tell Logan noticed the increase in the thrumming of your heartbeat and the speed of your hot breath so close to his face.

“What am I feeling right now?” Logan searched your eyes, his tone filled with barely masked self-control, desire, expectation.

“Tell me.”

You sucked in a shaky breath. “You wanna fuck me.”

“You’re damn right I do.”

Logan’s strong hands tangled in the hair at the back of your head as his lips, teeth, and tongue clashed messily with yours. He didn’t hold back anything, and it felt like he was devouring you whole. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, pushing the leather jacket off and you dug your fingernails into the thick muscle of his biceps.

Logan released your mouth with a growl, and he wasted no time nipping, sucking, and licking all over your neck and collarbone.

Meanwhile, you were transfixed by how the bright pink lines of your scratches were healing on his tanned skin. Curiosity got the better of you and you tried scratching him again, harder this time.

“You trying to hurt me, sweetheart?” Logan grumbled hotly against your ear.

“Mmm maybe?” You giggled, sighing into his lips that were pressing kisses against the side of your face.

“Good.” Logan kissed down your throat, ripping apart the buttons of your work blouse as he went. “I like a bit of pain when I’m fucking.”

You peeled off the top and your lacy black bra, exposing your bare breasts to Logan and he promptly buried his face in your flesh, clearly enjoying himself with your body. Unseemingly moans continuously poured out of both of you and your lust-riddled brain somehow remembered that it was the middle of the workday and you were in your third floor office that anyone could walk by.

“Logan, hold on—I need to…” You gasped out in stuttered breaths.

“Mmph” he grunted back, his teeth having found your perky nipples and he was clearly too focused on that to hear a thing you said.

So you grabbed a thick tuft of his hair and yanked his head back, to which the man actually snarled at being interrupted.

Unafraid, you laughed with delight and kissed him deeply. He tasted of cigarettes and salt and a delicious musk that solely belonged to him.

“I need to close the curtains and lock the door, Logan.” You reprimanded.

Resigned, Logan spread his arms to the back of the couch as he watched you secure the room. Even with your back turned, you could feel that his gaze never wavered from you. The lust poured off of him in waves that pulsed with every breath he took.

It was a deep red, thick like a fog, and it filled your nostrils, your head, your senses entirely. You’ve never felt your powers be so entirely overwhelmed by a single person before.

But Logan was not just anyone.

“I can feel so much from you.” Your voice dropped down into a strained whisper as you stepped back towards him, in between his man-spread legs. You reached a hand behind you to unzip your skirt, and Logan licked his lips once he saw the little black thong you had on underneath. He quickly undid his belt buckle and threw it to the side with a clatter. You slid your hands up his chest slowly, inhaling his scent as you kissed the side of his neck, finding a single vein throbbing with his increased heartbeat.

His white tank fell in a heap on the floor. A second later, dark blue jeans followed suit. Finally, you used your free hand to yank his boxers down and he was completely bare before you at last.

“What do you feel?” Logan could not stop staring at you, at your body, and following every motion of your hands.

You straddled his lap, a knee on either side of his thick thighs. Logan released a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you sat your bare bottom on his lap once again.

Instead of replying, you whispered into his mouth, “Cut off my thong.”

Thrill licked up your spine as you watched a single blade release from his right hand, and Logan oh-so-carefully sliced the string of your panties along your hips. Silently, you both watched as it slid off your heated skin.

You rewarded him with another kiss, running your tongue along the inside of his mouth. He nudged his nose into your cheek, desperate for more.

Meanwhile, you reached down between your bodies and found his painfully erect member. Your lips swallowed the needy growl that escaped the back of Logan’s throat. It made a slow smile spread on your face.

This man wanted you as badly as you wanted him. And neither of you could wait a second longer to devour each other like animals.

“I feel your desire.” You finally answered his question, just as you pulled his thick cock towards your ready core, and you sank down in a single motion.

You both released the most guttural groan at the same time. Logan was a huge man and he had a cock to match. The head pushed against your cervix and you felt positively stretched out trying to accommodate his girth.

Logan filled his hands with the supple flesh of your hips, pulling you up only for you to slide back down, your slickness coating him well.

You braced yourself on his shoulders, raising yourself onto your knees until he was nearly slipping out of you. You glanced down between your two bodies, getting a glimpse of his glorious cock.

“Stop teasing.” Logan panted into your chest, his own already shining with sweat.

You smirked and lowered yourself again, slowing down even more.

Tantalizing The Wolverine with the hot suck of your pussy.

Pressing your soft breasts into the mass of hair on his chest.

Your mouth unrelentingly kissed his scruffy face and wet lips.

“Sweetheart.” Logan’s nickname for you was strained out through clenched teeth.

Laced with warning.

You paid no heed, continuing your teasing movements until, with a roar of impatience, Logan sunk his fingers into the soft fat of your ass and thrusted upwards as hard as he could.

You released his lips with a yelp of surprise and he set a brutal pace. Logan’s length drilled into your hot core, stretching you, spearing you far deeper than you could have ever expected.

“O-oh my god! Logan! S-slow down!” You implored, but Logan had other plans for how he was going to wreck you.

Every thrust was met with a hard slap of skin on skin, and the most you could do was simply dig your nails into his biceps, this time, drawing blood with how hard you were holding on to him.

The pain however, simply goaded him to keep railing you like a rag doll. His cock buried itself to the hilt only to pull out and push back in again, over and over, as if it could never be satisfied.

You had a feeling that Logan had stamina for hours. The Wolverine could just keep going until both of you lost the ability to move. As much as that sounded incredible, the thin trails of blood running down his skin forced you to reconsider how much sex the two of you could handle. At least for the moment.

“Logan, s-seriously. You’re bleeding.” You finally managed to say.

“It’ll heal.” Logan ground out. But, he did slow down until you sat back in his lap, running your fingers along the cuts your fingernails had caused. He wasn’t wrong; each small wound was closing up at a remarkable speed.

“I don’t want to hurt you each time we have sex, Logan.” Even if he liked pain, you didn’t feel comfortable inflicting injury on this beautiful man. Or getting too rough too fast.

“You could never hurt me, sweetheart.” Logan assured you, holding you more gently now, his breath coming in heavy pants. But, he could see the worry on your face, so he kissed the sweaty furrow of your brow.

“Okay. We’ll take it slow. I won’t be so rough, unless you say so.” He murmured against your skin. The both of you were drenched in sweat as if you had run a marathon.

You carefully untangled yourself from Logan’s body and stood up on wobbly legs. You were already feeling a dull ache of soreness between your thighs.

“Hold on-you said ‘each time we have sex’ as in…” Logan questioned.

“Oh we’re not done. You haven’t even made me cum yet.” You grinned at him, walking over to your desk.

You sensually bent over, presenting your slick-shiny slit to Logan.

“I doubt you could stay away from me after you’ve had a taste.” You teased him, the desperation for this man to give you an orgasm making the dirty talk stream out of your lips. Your outside persona as the put-together empath long gone in favor of the filter-less, horny, and needy slut you really were.

Logan immediately crossed over to you in a few strides, holding the weight of his still-erect cock over your waiting entrance.

As he pushed into you, one hand holding you down onto your desk, he corrected your statement.

“You’re wrong, sweetheart.” Logan explained. “I couldn’t stay away from you before you let me fuck this sweet pussy.”

His deliberate slowness was absolute torture on your body. He filled you up in a way no man, no mutant had ever done before.

“Oh! Right there, Logan!” You moaned out, barely hearing what he said. His cock now pushed against that delicious spongy center in your cunt. He then pulled out, admiring the way your juices coated every thick vein on his member.

He entered you again, just as slowly, making sure both of you felt every inch of his invasion. Your hands reached over to the other side of the desk, your white knuckled grip clutching the edge. You needed to hold on to something, anything to ground yourself or you were going to lose it with how Logan was tormenting you with his cock.

“P-please, keep going!” The desperation in your voice turned whatever you said into a whine.

A few thrusts later, and you could feel that familiar tightening in your core. You were getting so close, and you were sure that the helpless moans that kept coming out of your mouth were an obvious indication to Logan that you were about to cum.

“I knew I wanted to make you scream my name with my cock the very first day we met.” Logan finally concluded, his voice hot in your ear as he pressed his chest onto your back. At the same time he gave this sinful confession, he reached a hand down to find your swollen clit and touched you in just the right way, as if he had done it a million times before.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you came immediately.

”Oh—!”

In the haze of the most explosive pleasure you’ve ever felt, you registered three sensations at the same time.

First, wet jets of his expend painted the hot skin of your back.

Second, a rough hand clapped over your mouth, muffling the orgasmic scream of The Wolverine’s name that was ripping through your lungs.

Third, fireworks. You’ve never seen a man cum so hard that your powers registered an orgasm as fireworks. It was usually a quick flash of light like an old-school camera, but Logan came so hard that his pleasure was literally illuminating your senses like it was the 4th of July.

It was beautiful to witness.

And even more satisfying to participate in.

Breathless, speechless, and completely and thoroughly fucked, you turned around and simply grinned at the sexiest, horniest, hottest man you’ve ever had sex with.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to set up regular “Friday Fucknights” after that.

…

You slowly unfurled your clenched fists from the comforter that you didn’t know you were squeezing tight.

Goddammit.

All the memories of the first time you and Logan had sex made you decidedly horny. Even after Logan had given you a good rough fucking the night before.

Flashes of last night whipped through your brain.

Your face buried in the mattress, your moans disappearing into the fabric.

The cold breeze on your bare ass, raised up to meet Logan’s face.

The scruff of his beard rubbing against your skin.

His nose inhaling your sinful scent.

His lips and tongue eating you out for dessert after he surprised you with a date to a local steakhouse.

It was one of the few dates Logan spontaneously took you out on and it would always start the same way:

“Wanna go for a ride?” He’d ask you.

“Sure.” You’d reply.

And you’d end up at some isolated restaurant with Logan inhaling a monstrous slab of meat as you complained about all the teenage drama you were trying to counsel students through.

A few drinks and naughty kisses in the back corner booth later, the night always ended in your usual sex.

And you know you were clear to him that you just wanted the sex, no strings attached. You told him from the get-go that dating wasn’t really your thing. Due to the nature of your powers, you could never be sure if your partners actually loved you or if it was your love for them influencing how they felt about you. After all, if your powers influenced most mutants, then regular humans were even more susceptible.

But sex with Logan was perfect. Even those random dates were guilt-free and stress-free, because you could finally just be with someone who you didn’t have to worry about any of that with.

At the same time, Logan was intense. It was probably a good idea that you basically saw each other once a week for sex and stayed the hell out of his way the rest of the time.

Honestly? You could only handle The Wolverine in doses.

Between his traumatic hidden memories that emerged in daily nightmares…

And his overwhelming sexual desire for you…

The man was going to be the death of you.

…

A pained sound, almost like a whimper came from Logan. You could see a few beads of sweat break out on his forehead, and you quickly grabbed one of his clenched fists. Your hands gently rubbed over the knuckles where his blades lay hidden beneath a thin layer of skin. In a moment, Logan’s face relaxed and his eyes began to flutter open.

You sighed in relief.

Unfortunately, even though you could only handle Logan once a week, it was clear that Logan wanted you much more than that.

After that first month of Friday Fucknights, Logan had quickly figured out that spending the night with you acted as a natural sleep drug. He suspected it was your powers, or maybe it was just you.

Because somehow, when you were in his bed, he could finally wind down and slumber nightmare free. You noticed it too - his aura turned to a soft, amber yellow when he was sleeping next to you. The emotion of peace and contentment.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Logan murmured, his fingers now interlaced with yours. He brought your entwined hands up to his lips so he could press his lips to it.

Goddammit. There it was again.

The unmistakable feeling of love - pink, swirling wisps floating gently in the air. The smell of those quintessential roses and a deep warm fuzziness in your belly that felt like home.

Logan reeked of it.

…

You first noticed it at the date last night. You were complaining about some adolescent love triangle that Bobby and Rogue and Kitty had tangled themselves up in and Logan was teasing you about it. He was nursing a beer, chuckling as he laughed both at you and with you.

And there was a pause right after the laughter faded where you recognized the emotion he was feeling. You clocked it as soon as he took a sip of his bottle and looked right into your eyes.

Something that you hadn’t felt before from him.

Love.

You immediately deflected by saying something sexual to distract him from thinking too hard about what he felt and his aura quickly switched to that familiar red-hot lust.

That’s all you wanted from him.

That’s all you needed from him.

Right?

From there it was an illegally-fast motorcycle ride back to the mansion for some rough fucking.

…

Trying to hide your unease about his feelings, you hoped he didn’t notice the elongated pause before your reply this morning. Your thoughts were racing about the implications of The Wolverine falling in love with you.

You shouldn’t.

You couldn’t.

Fuck, you needed to distract him.

And yourself.

“Good morning, Logan” you finally snapped out of it and smiled at him. “You feeling alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He opened your palm up and kissed it again, this time, giving your skin a little teasing lick.

“You were tossing in your sleep a little.” You explained, “but I’m about to make you feel all better.” Your voice dropped flirtatious and low.

“Is that right, sweetheart?” Logan’s lifted a brow as you burrowed under the blanket, feeling the waves of heat emanating off of him.

You quickly shimmied down until your face was right in front of his thick cock. After all the sex last night, Logan hadn’t bothered to put on clothes again before he fell asleep.

Neither had you.

Your tongue found his shaft first, while your hands gently caressed his balls. They felt heavy and warm in your palm as you licked up and down his cock.

Above you, Logan immediately twitched and grunted at your touch.

“Mmph - that’s—!” Logan could barely say.

“More?” You teased from under the covers.

“Y-yeah. Please, sweetheart. Give me more.” He groaned, one hand tangling itself to your hair. He gave you a slight, sharp tug that made your arousal flare up.

You took a deep breath before closing your mouth onto the head of his cock, and sucking hard and holding him hostage in return.

“Fuck!” Logan swore, blood rushing down to his member. You could feel him growing in girth, opening your jaw wider, your tongue sliding under him. You refused to let him go, hollowing out your cheeks, drawing him deeper until you had to surface for air.

“Yummy.” You grinned devilishly, swiping away the trail of saliva down your chin.

“My messy girl.” Logan pulled your chin closer until his lips pressed against your mouth. You threw the covers off of the both of you, and climbed on top of him.

“Mmm.” You moaned, his tongue was dancing with yours and it was driving you crazy. “As much as I love kissing you Logan, I think I’d rather ride you today.”

“Be my fucking guest.” Logan smiled against your mouth before releasing your face with a filthy wet smooch.

You admired the ripple of his abs as he leaned against the pillows, his huge arms thrown behind his head. The sight made you lick his taste off your lips, and liquid heat rushed to your core.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about all morning?”

You knelt beside him, your knees squeezing into his hips as you reached below you. God, he was huge. A fact you admired every time you took his substantial girth into your hand.

“What, sweetheart?” Logan gazed at you with a bemused expression on his face.

“The first time we had sex.” You continued. The head was breaching the tight ring of your pussy now.

“That was a great day.” Logan’s chest rose as he sucked in a breath, holding it as he watched you sink down until your bottom was flush to his strong thighs.

“That was a fucking incredible day.” You moaned at the feeling of being so full, so full of him. “And I was sitting pretty in your lap, just like I am right now.”

“Y-you spoil me, sweetheart.” Logan released his breath in a whoosh, his words starting to stutter just like his hips.

“Ah ah ah.” You pulled his hands away from your ass and up to your breasts. ”Don’t rush me.”

Logan responded with a frustrated groan, even as he kneaded your soft flesh and pinched your nipples.

“Fuck that’s good.” You praised him and rewarded him with a roll of your hips. You let his cock slide out only to suck it back in with your next movement.

“I want to feel you, Logan.” You leaned down to press a kiss onto his open mouth. “All of you.”

Without waiting any longer, you bounced your ass on top of his cock, suddenly riding him like your life depended on it.

Logan wrapped his arms around your back as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

Expletives flying and a whole host of unseemly sounds spilled out of the both of you.

But nothing compared to the sweet sound of his cock and balls slapping against the soft cheeks of your bottom.

And the messy wet squelch of juices that were streaming out of your pussy and coating his length.

“S-sweetheart! I c-can’t!” Logan’s whine almost made you laugh. Your pussy was so good that it made The Wolverine beg to cum. What a fucking power trip.

“Cum for me Logan!” You encouraged him, your pussy was throbbing with need. Something animalistic was unlocking inside of you and you just had to feel his release inside of your cunt.

After all, you did say you wanted to feel all of him.

And that included his hot, delicious seed.

“Let me—” Logan started to pull you off of him before you grabbed his hands and ground down onto him.

“N-no!” You panted out, still bouncing on him hard. “Cum inside.”

Logan’s eyes widened. With a roar, he sat up and locked his arms around you, his hips jutting up into you once, twice, three times.

And you felt his cock release inside of you at last.

“Oh my god!” You bit into his shoulder, seeing fireworks again, not just for Logan, but for both of you. The room was heavy with the smell of sex and lust and sharp bursts of light that danced across your vision. You could vaguely feel yourself falling back down onto the bed with him, your cheek pressed into his hairy chest.

Your mind was somewhere in space, simply overwhelmed with sensation. This man, this mutant, this Wolverine, gave you the most explosive orgasms every time he fucked you.

Then, as if the sky had cleared after a storm, you saw the fireworks fizzle out. And creeping in from the corner of your eye, you saw it again. That pesky pink fog and the smell of roses.

Love.

…

“Goddamit Logan” you muttered out, lifting your head up to look at the man before you, and your heart immediately softened. His eyes were closed, chest falling and rising rapidly as he recovered. Seeing Logan in that post-sex glow always felt special to you.

He was beautiful.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Logan’s eyes shot open on high alert and he stiffened underneath you, picking up the annoyance in your tone.

You blew out a breath and pushed yourself up on his chest, staring at him before deciding what to say.

What to do.

What to feel.

Logan’s eyes darted across your face, searching for an answer as you battled internally. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks and your heart started to beat in double time.

Fuck it if he was falling for you.

You were addicted to this man.

You were not about to let him go.

“I can feel you, Logan.” You confessed, “I felt it last night, and just when you woke up, and right now.”

“What is it?” Confusion, and a hint of trepidation flashed across his face.

“Love.”

Logan’s brows shot up and he stared into your soul with wide, chocolate-brown eyes. But you stayed silent, waiting for him to deny it, confirm it, something.

With a rustle of sheets, Logan carefully sat up, and you with him. Then, he deliberately placed two warm, calloused palms on both sides of your hot cheeks.

And he kissed you gently.

So fucking gently.

Somehow, that simple kiss felt way more intimate than any of the sex the two of you had ever done.

“Would it be so bad if I loved you?” Logan asked in a low murmur against your lips.

In that instant, your mind recalled everything you loved about Logan.

His gentleness with the students, especially the ones that had powers that were more dangerous or harder to hide. He understood what it felt like to be an outsider. To be feared when you just wanted to belong.

His “I don’t give a fuck” energy when he did, in fact, give a lot of fucks about those he cared about. It showed up in the way he asked about how your week was, and patiently listened to all your complaints before taking you to bed. The way he noticed when you were stressed, or tired, or just needed the comfort of not being alone. The way he put your emotions first before his own.

His ridiculous reputation as the resident flirt, when he was actually so loyal to you. He might have made moves on Jean or Storm or every eligible and un-eligible lady at the school, but you were the only one he called “sweetheart.” You were the only one who saw what Logan looked like when he was afraid, when he was vulnerable. When he was in love.

And of course, his deep respect for Professor X, who he was always just a little bit more well-mannered for. He had changed so much since coming to the school. You could see it In the way he fought on X-missions even though he was so used to fighting for himself, by himself. Now, he was a soldier. A protector.

“No,” you slowly replied. You paused, and covered his hands with your own. ”It would be wonderful.”

Your ears were blessed with the most unbridled, joyful laugh from Logan as he smothered you with his 200 pound body and rained a cascade of kisses all over your skin.

Every press of his lips against your own felt like an I love you over and over again.

“Logan!” You couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Stop!”

“I can’t,” Logan lifted your leg up to his shoulder and drove into your pussy. You were so overwhelmed with his emotion that you hadn’t even seen his cock engorge itself again.

“L-Logan!” You cried out his name again, this time in pleasure.

“I can’t help myself, sweetheart.” Logan kissed you soundly. “Not when I love you this much.”

You held his face, caressing his rough beard and staring into his eyes, shiny with emotion that mirrored your own.

“I love you, too.”

The rest of the morning, laughter and kisses and smiles flooded the room, basking the two of you in the soft, pink glow of the best emotion there is.

Love.

[misctf]

I just love your twink stories so much, just overall cockshrink stories of yours are immaculate. Thank you so much!

Of course! I hope you enjoy this one too!

New Year New Me

Derek grinned as his boyfriend kissed his cheek and rubbed his hand against his chest. Despite dating for two years, the passion was still there. And Derek couldn’t think of a better way to spend the New Year than with his boyfriend at a couple’s resort nestled away in the woods.

“I love you babe.” Derek kissed his boyfriend, his hands caressing his lover’s cheek.

Paul was perfect. Besides being one of the nicest and funniest guys he’d ever dated, the physical attraction was certainly there. Not to mention they were totally compatible. Derek being a total top, while Paul was a strict bottom. He loved how desperate Paul could be too- always the more submissive of the two. And as they got into bed, Derek instinctively goes to be the big spoon.

“Hey babe,” Paul says, “Would you mind if I try being the big spoon tonight?”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “You want to be big spoon tonight?” He smirks, “What’s gotten into you?” He jokes and Paul smiles deviously.

“You’re always the big spoon, I kinda wanna try it out.” He chuckles, “New Year, new me?” Derek looked at Paul with amusement, but also a hint of curiosity. 

“Alright babe, we can give it a shot.” 

He said with a grin, scooting over to let Paul take position behind him. As soon as their bodies made contact, Derek felt a strange tingling sensation wash over him. His skin prickled and he shivered slightly.

“What's up?” 

Paul asked, noticing the change in his boyfriend's demeanor. Derek tried to shake off the feeling, attributing it to the unusual positioning. But the sensations intensified. He tried his best to ignore them.

“Nothing, I’m good.” Derek mumbled, blinking his eyes a few times.

Derek's mind began to fog slightly as the tingling spread through his body. His thoughts grew hazy and his vision blurred at the edges. Paul's arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, and Derek felt himself melting into his boyfriend's embrace.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” Paul whispered in his ear, his breath hot against Derek's skin.

The words sent a thrill through Derek, but it wasn't just arousal. Something deeper, more primal, was stirring within him. Derek nodded, thinking it odd how Paul's voice took on a somewhat lower tenure. Not to mention the confidence. Usually he liked more submissive guys. But Paul's sudden confidence made his dick stir.

“So good.” He replied, nestling closer to his boyfriend. Derek's cock hardened fully, straining against his boxers as a new kind of desperation seized him. He wanted to be held, worshipped, fucked...hard, “Mmm, I love you so much, Paul.” Derek slurred, his voice taking on a higher, more nasally tone, “You're the best thing that ever happened to me.” He pressed back against his boyfriend, grinding his ass against Paul's crotch.

“Fuck babe...” Paul grunted.

Derek moaned loudly, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he felt Paul's hardening bulge press insistently against his ass.

“Oh god, Paul, please...” Derek whimpered, his hips bucking back against his boyfriend's hips in a needy rhythm.

His once strong, toned body started to soften. The light dusting of chest hairs beginning to fall away, leaving him smooth. Meanwhile, Derek couldn't help but notice that Paul's arms seemed bigger somehow. The mountainous biceps that bulged as Paul held him closer seemed... wrong. But as he felt Paul's ever more prominent bulge against his ass, he simply moaned. Paul's grip tightened around Derek's waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he ground his throbbing erection against his boyfriend's pliant ass. Derek gasped, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure coursing through his veins.

“I'm going to make you mine, baby.” Paul growled, his voice low and rough with desire, “Every inch of you belongs to me now.”

As if in response, Derek's body began to shift further. His broad shoulders narrowed, his powerful muscles atrophying to reveal a leaner, more delicate frame. His hair, once dark and neatly styled, turned a bright platinum blonde and fell in messy waves across his forehead. A sweet, innocent face emerged, dominated by large, expressive blue eyes and full, pouty lips.

With each passing moment, Derek felt himself becoming less like his former self and more like a naive, dim-witted pretty boy. His once sharp intellect dulled, replaced by a vacuous, lustful haze. And yet, emotions like fear, despair, and anger dulled. He gazed up at Paul with wide, trusting eyes, his mouth slack and drooling slightly. 

“Y-you're so big and strong, Paul.” he cooed, reaching back to fondle the massive bulge tenting his boyfriend's pants, “Can you please fuck me? I need it so bad...”

“Not with an ass like that.” Paul grunted, scratching at the hairs that sprouted from his increasingly larger pecs, “And what kinda fuckin' twink has a package like that? Paul groped Derek's proud bulge.

“But babe... please...” Derek pouted, “I.... oh gawd!”

As Paul's touch lingered on Derek's groin, the young man's erection began to shrink, growing smaller and softer until it dwindled to a mere nub between his thighs. At the same time, his once muscular ass flared outward, ballooning into an obscenely large, juicy bubble butt. Paul chuckled cruelly, enjoying the sight of his boyfriend's pathetic, diminished manhood. He reached down and gave Derek's swollen rump a harsh slap, watching with satisfaction as the tender flesh jiggled and quivered.

“You're such a fucking cumslut now, aren't you, babe?” Paul sneered, rubbing his thumb over the red imprint left on Derek's cheek. “Just begging to get your tight little hole filled with my cock.”

Derek whined pitifully, squirming under Paul's scornful gaze. 

“P-please, Paul... I'll do anything... just use me...” He reached back to part his cheeks.

That was all Paul needed. Paul set a relentless pace, pounding into Derek's ass with savage abandon. Each brutal thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through the young man's core, making him clench and unclench around his boyfriend's invading length. Derek's cries degenerated into incoherent moans and whimpers, his mind consumed by the overwhelming sensations. Any thought of being anything other than a sex toy for his bigger, stronger, boyfriend evaporating from his increasingly duller mind.

“Harder, Paul! Fuck me harder!” Derek begged shamelessly, his voice high and breathy. “Make me your slutty little cumdump!”

As the night wore on, Paul continued to use Derek's willing body for his pleasure, fucking him relentlessly until both men collapsed in exhaustion. Now, as morning dawned outside, Derek lay curled up on Paul's chest, his small frame barely filling the expanse of his boyfriend's broad shoulders.

Despite the lingering soreness between his legs, Derek felt a deep sense of contentment and belonging. In this moment, he knew without a doubt that he was meant to serve and submit to Paul's dominance. Groggily, Derek opened his eyes to find Paul staring down at him with a mix of affection and superiority. Paul gently stroked Derek's hair, his fingertips grazing the delicate features of his boyfriend's face. 

“You did so well last night, baby.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, “Such a good little slut for me.” Derek blushed at the praise, his heart swelling with pride and devotion. 

“Thank you, Paul.” he whispered, nuzzling into his boyfriend's warm embrace, “I'll always be here for you, no matter what.”

Paul chuckled, leaning down to capture Derek's lips in a dominating kiss. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a golden glow over the room, both Derek and Paul knew something had changed. But neither would be complaining all too much.

[quarterlifekitty]

(just had a gynecologist appt this morning and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much of a dog Soap would be about it)

he’d beg to watch or something like the perv he is

or maybe if we’re being really nasty:

gynecologist!Soap that only chose this profession so he can stuff his fingers into pussies all day :(( he doesn’t discriminate either, he likes all kinds of cunts!! Can’t have any pussy suffering or feeling sick on his watch (he’s a pussy pronoun user)

But he gets real excited when a pretty thing like you walks into his office, likes making you squirm and blush all awkwardly

don’t worry about it, bonnie, s'all part of the exam :3 he’s just checking if your g-spot is healthy!! There she goes, soaking his fingers and trying to suck him in deeper <3

You know there were a lot of boys who said that thing about wanting to be gynecologists in middle school and I will never forget my music teacher saying “you know that women usually go to the gynecologist when there’s something wrong with them, right?” And they shut the fuck up

Also I believe @/peachesofteal has a gyn!Price AU that I recommend you check out if you’re into that.

lol NO ONE walks into the obgyn and expects seeing a built dude with a Mohawk basically busting out of his scrubs and smiling at you with wolf teeth.

Also YES pussy pronouns. A staple of the 141, imo.

And this may be too freak nasty for you but uhhhm…. DentistsOffice!141.

CW: medical, dental, dubcon/noncon, obsession, somno

Obsessed with you and shoving their fingers in your mouth and against your teeth. Let’s be real Soap would love smelling your breath and every day is a constant battle for him to resist spitting in there right after he tells you to open wide.

Price and Nikolai looming over you, remarking on your oral hygiene, stroking the tips of your canines. Calling you a good girl every time you follow any instruction whatsoever— opening your mouth, rinsing with all of the mouthwash, moving your tongue out of the way. The way they praise your good care and tut when you’ve been slacking is insanely motivating

You know Soap is obsessed with the molds they make of your teeth (I know that’s orthodontic primarily don’t @ me). If he uses some silicon in the molds to take a little something home that’s his business iykyk

Gaz who’s the resident anesthetist. And you KNOW they always recommend general anesthesia for every fuckin minor procedure they can so you can be passed out and vulnerable under them. Gaz gently explaining what it’s going to feel like as you go under, telling you to keep counting as the mask gets secured over your mouth.

And if you insist you can’t go under general, you don’t have anyone to come with you or drive you home after, that’s ok. Their technician Simon is actually getting off his shift around when the procedure ends. He’d be happy to drive you home and help you rinse with saline, replace your cotton :) and if something else happens to slip in your mouth while you’re still all dazed and relaxed, what’s the harm?

And miraculously, your insurance (I know I look like an American rn don’t @ me) always covers the whole thing with no issue! They just call them up, and suddenly the copay disappears. So it’s no trouble to go often— you might as well take advantage!

[requiemforthepoets]

to be in it with you ⟢ OP81

PAIRING: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: as you watch oscar play happily with his nieces and nephews, you’re struck by the overwhelming love you feel for him—deeper than you’ve ever known.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: use of y/n, named side character (brother), fluff, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have an oscar request lined up from last year, and somehow i’m at 40%-ish of completing it. so i’ll dedicate this oscar one shot that i drafted long ago to my ‘osc anon’ who had sent in the request as a compensation for not finishing yet their request 🥹 so i hope you guys will like this one too!

It was a perfect summer afternoon in Australia. The sun shone warmly over the sprawling and perfectly manicured backyard, the sound of laughter and chatter floating through the air as Oscar’s family gathered for the reunion. You sat comfortably in a lawn chair, a cool drink in your hand, condensation dripping down the side of the glass, and a soft smile that played on your lips as you watched Oscar from afar. He was in the middle of the yard, playing tag with his nieces and nephews, their high-pitched giggles filling the spaces as Oscar chased them with exaggerated slowness, his long strides deliberately clumsy.

Oscar was radiant under the sun, his easy laughter blending with the children’s laughter, his cheeks flushed from the activity. His hair, slightly damp from exertion, curled at the edges, and he ran a hand through it as he crouched low to let one of the toddlers ‘tag’ him. The sight tugged at your chest, making your heart swell almost painfully.

It hit you then, not for the first time, but in a way that felt newly profound. You love him. You love him so much that it terrifies you. You never knew that it’s possible to love someone so much. The thought was overwhelming, almost suffocating in its intensity. No one had ever made you feel like this before. The relationships that you had in the past now seemed pale and faded photographs in comparison, distant and dull compared to the vibrant, all-encompassing connection you had with Oscar.

You took a slow sip of your drink, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you, but your gaze remained fixed on him. You loved everything about Oscar—the way he interacted so effortlessly with his family, how he was patient, gentle, and kind with the children, how his face lit up with genuine happiness when they pulled him into their little games. He was a mosaic of everything you had ever dreamed of, and yet, somehow more.

With these realizations came a series of flashbacks. You and Oscar go way back, though ‘knowing’ him would be a generous way to describe it. Growing up, you were never more than acquaintances in passing, brought into each other’s orbit because of your older brother, Asher. Asher and Oscar had bonded over karting, spending weekends at the track, their friendship was fueled by shared victories, losses, and countless hours tinkering with karts.

You were always on the sidelines, quieter than most, mostly content to sit with a book or scroll through your phone while Asher raced. Occasionally, your eyes would drift to Oscar—not intentionally at first, but there was something about him that always caught your attention. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, calm and focused, even at such a young age. Or perhaps, it was the easy smile he wore after a win, the way it lit up his whole face. You didn’t actually know when or why it started, but somewhere along the way, you realized you had feelings for him.

It was not a revelation that struck you like lightning. No, it crept up on you, quiet and persistent, until one day, as you unpacked your bag after another weekend spent at a karting competition, you paused, clutching a book in your hands. You loved him. Or, at least, you thought you did. It was kind of innocent, unspoken affection that felt too big to put into words.

But Oscar never knew. You barely spoke to him back then, except for the occasional polite exchange of ‘hi’ or ‘good luck.’ You were not shy by nature, but there’s something about him that always left you tongue-tied. So, when he moved up to F3 and you moved out of Australia to chase your own career abroad, that chapter in your life pretty much quietly closed.

Years passed after that. You had kept tabs on him sporadically, mostly through Asher, who remained in touch with Oscar even after leaving karting behind. When Oscar finally made it to F1, you learned about it through your brother, who called you, his voice buzzing with pride. Though you hadn’t seen Oscar in years, the news stirred something in you—a quiet, enduring happiness for him.

Then, it was months later, on an otherwise unremarkable evening, that your phone rang with a call from an unfamiliar number. You hesitated, your finger hovering over the screen before you finally answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, uh, is this…y/n?” the voice was hesitant but familiar, a thread of nervousness woven through the words.

“Yes, it is. Who’s this, may I ask?”

There was a brief pause, then, “it’s Oscar. Oscar Piastri.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. “Oh. Hi. Um…hello, Oscar.”

Oscar’s laugh was soft, almost sheepish. “Sorry, this is kind of random, isn’t it? I wasn’t sure if you’d even remember me.”

“Of course I remember you,” you said quickly—too quickly for your liking, your heart thudding in your chest. “I just…wasn’t really expecting this, that’s all. How did you even get my number?”

“Well, apparently our mums kept in touch all these years,” he explained, tone a little lighter now. “My mum mentioned that she saw you back in Australia not too long ago, and she told me about it. She, uh, also gave me your number.”

You were not sure what to say to that. “Oh,” you managed. “I didn’t know they still talked.”

“Neither did I,” Oscar admitted, you could hear the smile in his voice. “But when she mentioned you, I figured I’d…I don’t know, take a chance? I mean we never really got to know each other back then, did we?”

“No, we didn’t,” you agreed softly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

“I always thought you were kind of…quiet,” he said, voice teasing but kind. “Like you didn’t really want to be there, but you came anyway because of Asher.”

You laughed, the sound surprising even you. “That’s pretty accurate, actually. I was there for him, but it wasn’t so bad, I liked watching you race.”

“Really?” Oscar sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “You were good. You still are.”

“Thanks,” he said, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, though it felt like the space between breaths, waiting to be filled.

“So,” he said finally, tone shifting to something more tentative. “Would you…want to catch up sometime? I know it’s been years, but I’d really like to get to know you properly. No more awkward hi-and-hellos this time.”

Your heart leapt at the offer, but you kept your voice steady. “Yes, I’d like that,” you said. “I’d really like that.”

“Great,” Oscar said, and you could hear the smile in his voice again. “I’ll text you, then. We’ll figure something out.”

“Okay,” you said softly, your fingers tightening around the phone.

“Okay,” he echoed.

After that whole conversation with Oscar, for the first time, you realized that maybe, you were not the only one that has been waiting for this moment.

The memory had you smiling crazy, failing to notice how Oscar glanced your way, a smile spreading across his face when he caught you staring and smiling. He stood, brushing the grass off his hands, and made his way over to you, his pace was unhurried but purposeful.

“Having fun watching me make a fool of myself?” he teased, voice warm and tinged with amusement as he dropped into the chair beside you.

You chuckled softly, setting your drink on the small table next to you. “Not at all. You’re doing amazing out there,” you replied, tone playful but sincere.

Oscar leaned back in the chair, his hand quickly finding yours without hesitation, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your skin. “You looked like you were in deep thought,” he said for a moment, his eyes searching for yours. “What’s on your mind?”

You hesitated, not because you did not want to tell him, but because you were not sure how to articulate the depth of what you were feeling. But after a beat, you decided to just let the words flow freely.

“I was just thinking about how much I love you,” you admitted, voice quiet but steady. “And how no one’s ever made me feel the way you do. It’s like I don’t even have the right words for it.”

Oscar’s expression softened, and he squeezed your hand gently. “You don’t have to find the right words,” he said, tone earnest. “I feel it. Every time you look at me, every time you smile like that, I feel it.”

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat. “It’s just that sometimes it feels like too much, you know? Like, I want to memorize everything about you—how you speak, move, even how you laugh. I want to soak up every part of you and carry it with me forever.”

He let out a quiet laugh, his thumb still brushing over your hand. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of masterpiece,” he said, tone light but his gaze were serious.

“It’s because you are,” you replied without hesitation, voice unwavering. “You are to me.”

For a moment, Oscar did not say anything, he just looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race. Then he leaned closer, his free hand coming up to cup your face, his touch gentle but grounding.

“You have no idea how much I love you, do you?” he murmured.

“I think I might have some idea,” you whispered back, lips curving into a smile.

Oscar leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back to meet your gaze. “Good,” he said, voice low and filled with affection. “Because I’m all in with you. Every part of me, every day.”

Your chest felt like it might burst anytime soon from the sheer magnitude of what you felt for him. “Me too,” you whispered, voice trembling slightly. “I’m all in with you, Oscar. Always.”

Everything had also made you realize that you didn’t need the perfect words or grand gestures. Being with Oscar, loving him as deeply as you did, was more than enough.

[morchilluv]

Cho Hyun-Ju headcanons

(Sfw+Nsfw)

A/N: This is my first time doing a headcanon for a character.. hope you lovelies like it!

SFW:

• Had trauma during her childhood, whether it was bullying or anything else. So she definitely tries her absolute best for your guys kid/children, and is always there for them. (when you get there.)

• She can easily read you like a book. Even if you try to hide it. She will always know when something’s bothering you, or/and when you’re hiding something from her.

• Secretly a hopeless romantic. That’s all I can say.

• Isn’t the type to easily express her emotions, but when it comes to you, she’s unexpectedly tender and soft spoken. And it’s easy for her to open up to you.

• If you guys met in the games, you would definitely have a deeper connection than normal couples. You truly understand each others trauma.

• Secretly likes being little spoon. But most of the time she’s too ashamed to ask for it.

• She really values honesty, loyalty and communication.

• Loves to be touchy with you when you’re alone, or with your closest group of friends. She always has to have her hand somewhere on your body.

• Would like PDA, but in small doses.

~As both of you were walking with your friends, she softly took your hand in hers. You looked up at her. She had the most genuine smile ever. Slowly and secretly falling behind from your friends, you stood on your tippy toes to give her a small peck on the lips.~

NSFW: (pre and post full transition)

Pre:

• Definitely shy and hesitant at first, but quickly learns not to be.

• Biggest munch ever.

• You have attitude? She definitely fucks it out of you. No matter how many times she has to make you cum, she won’t stop until that little attitude of yours changes. 100% has the size for it.

• Always makes sure you’re prepared and wet before any type of sex. Which means fingering and eating your pussy. Sometimes she eats you out as if you were her first meal in ages, other times she’s very clean and gentle.

• When actual love-making, she fucks you slow and soft. Definitely talks you through it.

~“You’re doing so good, baby. Taking me so well.” She breathed heavily as she slowly thrusted inside you.~

Post:

• Still a huge munch. Will always be one.

• A lot of scissoring. I repeat. A lot of scissoring. Won’t stop until both of you have come so many times your bodies are twitching.

• Scared to sit on your face even though you constantly beg for it and you’ve done it plenty of times to her. Eventually she comes around and rides your face like no other.

• Loves when you eat her out. Each time she’s surprised at how much her pussy has sensation after the surgery. Always nagging that she’s missed out on that for so long.

• 69. One of her favorite positions when not using a strap. She loves when you stop eating her out because you’re too busy moaning. But again, loves the vibration when you moan into her pussy.

~“That feel good, sweetheart?” She said with a cocky smile. Loving the fact she’s making you feel so good to the point you can’t eat her out anymore. You quickly put your mouth on her once again. Moaning into her and the vibrations sent a chill down her spine. She moaned loudly. It was now your turn to be cocky.

“That feel good, sweetheart?”~

[esamastation]

wvyld: Desmond wakes up in Angelgard — to find a guy in chains who feels Very Evil (daemons) to the Eagle Sense, but also. uhhhh. you know. it's just — the chains are going through his flesh it's. yeaah he may have to go against his intuition with this one, this is no way to treat an eldritch abomination....

Guess what I didn't write? Any of that. I did however write Desmond in FFXV. :D

-

He sleeps the deep, deep sleep of the Earth. He dreams of mountains, of ravines, of endless pressure and crushing weight. He sleeps, and dreams, and his dreams have the weight of gravity, the drag of continental plates, the churning of magma and rattling of earthquakes. They're slow dreams but they're not peaceful.

They're also never enough to distract him from the weight still resting on his shoulders. The weight he can never put down. The heat of it pounds down on him, burning him, crushing him. Weight and heat are the same, when you really think about it. Mass makes gravity makes pressure makes fire makes explosion. Gravity makes stars. Makes planets. Makes earth. It's all the same.

There's always some weight upon him. That is his task and nature, as an Astral. A shitty gig, if there ever was one.

He breathes in deep and then falls deeper into slumber. Deep into memories of other worlds and other planets and man that once was and doesn't really matter anymore. The Meteor is heavy, heavy, heavy, burning, burning, burning. He sleeps and dreams deep, deep, deep.

And then someone Sings with the Voice of Stars and drags him from Beneath - and for the first time in eons, Awakens him.

It's not a pleasant feeling, to become aware once more under all the weight of the Cosmos' Rage.

"God of the Earth I beseech you!" A small voice calls out from somewhere below. "Enter into a covenant with the Chosen King so that he may reclaim the Stone and purge the Darkness from our Star!"

It takes a moment - a stretch and press of time dilation under weight of infinite gravity - to remember what speech is. What the little voice is saying makes no sense, even then. "WHAT," he says, with the Meteor roaring like hellfire in his ear, deafening him.

There's a little human somewhere near his feet, tiny, tiny thing, blond and pale and wearing white. She reminds him of something from eons ago.

"The Time of the Prophecy is at hand!" the human says, grand and commanding and barely audible. "The Darkness Eternal threatens our Star and only the King of Light may defeat it! To do that, he will have your power - you must enter into this covenant!"

The words make no sense. "WHAT KING?" he asks. "WHAT COVENANT? WHAT DARKNESS? THERE'S ONLY THIS DAMNED THING," he shifts under the weight of the Meteor. "AND THE ASSURED DESTRUCTION SHOULD I EVER PUT IT DOWN."

The little human wavers and he realises - his voice is too loud. He's shouting at her. His quietest voice is deafening to her. Even so, she keeps shouting back. "There are worse dangers now! Even now the Darkness grows stronger - every day, it claims more of our Star's Light. Without that Light, there is no Life, without Life, there is no future! The Meteor doesn't matter now - "

"THEN WHY THE FUCK AM I STILL HOLDING IT?" he asks sarcastically, and the little human is thrown back, faltering under his power. Oops. Poor thing. "WHAT IS THIS DARKNESS YOU FEAR SO MUCH, THEN? WHAT IS SO BAD THAT YOU'VE AWOKEN ME FROM DEEP SLEEP?"

The human struggles to her feet, using her little staff to prop herself up, and faces him with a stern look on her face. "It is the Scourge of Stars!" she says and lifts her staff. "I will Show you!"

And she does. She shows him a Disease. A plague that causes transformations and shadows, that infects flora and fauna and twists them into living ash. It makes monsters they call Daemons, and it has been coming up again and again for the last two thousand years. No one knows where it came from, but people have a Prophecy about it.

The Draconian made a Prophecy about it. Apparently that's what they call that guy now. And the little human - the Oracle? The Oracle tells it to him like he's supposed to know it. Like he's already part of it.

"I DON'T KNOW YOUR PROPHECY," the Archaean - that's what they call him now, apparently - answers. "I'VE NO PART IN IT. I WAS UNDER BURDEN BEFORE YOUR STARSCOURGE EVEN APPEARED. THE DRACONIAN'S WORDS, SPOKEN EONS HENCE, HOLD NO SWAY OVER ME."

The little human falters. "But - but the Cosmogony - the Prophecy says - "

The Archaean strains under the weight of the Meteor. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT A PROPHECY IS, LITTLE ONE? IT'S SOMEONE VOLUNTEERING SOMEONE ELSE FOR A TASK THEY THEMSELVES WILL NOT DO. THAT'S ALL."

The little human shakes her head. "No, no, it has to be the Chosen King, the Draconian said - "

"IF THE DRACONIAN REALLY WANTED THIS DARKNESS GONE, HE'D DO IT HIMSELF," the Archaean says, unamused. "HE CERTAINLY HAS THE POWER. JUST LOOK AT ME." He shrugs his shoulders and the Meteor upon them, sending tremors through the earth beneath his feet. "WHO DO YOU THINK CAST THIS THING UPON ME?"

The Oracle clutches on her staff, her eyes wide. "The Draconian sent the Meteor down upon us?" she asks, horrified, and falls to her knees. "W-what? No, that's not possible. I don't - that can't be."

Well. That seems rather telling and alarming.

The little Oracle can't take this conversation for long, it seems like - his voice is too much for her, as it tends to be for most humans. There's no way around it, though. He can't do much for her. The Archaean simply cannot put down his burdens, not for a long, long time, not until the half life of the damned thing runs its course. Until then, it's just him between the Meteor and Eos - and an explosion that would rock the whole solar system, if the two ever met.

He can, however, detach a small portion of himself to act as his avatar.

-

"Well, don't you look far less tiny from this angle, huh," the Messenger says, cracking his neck and getting used to being human sized again. "Hello, Oracle."

The Oracle stares at him, wide eyed. "You - you're the Archaean?"

"Small part of him. It's a bit of a long term gig, holding up the Meteor," the Messenger says and peers up at himself, standing tall as a mountain under the Meteor. Already his larger self is going back to slumber - much easier to bear the weight like that. "Six thousand years down," the Messenger says, shooting finger guns at himself. "Six million more to go."

"Y-you -" the Oracle stammers and then goes down into a bow. "My Lord, I am your humble servant - I beseech you to listen to me, for our blight is true and dire."

"I believe you believe that, and it probably is pretty bad," the Messenger says and motions to the Meteor. "But if that thing goes down, it will destroy this whole planet. Into itty bitty space dust," he adds, just to drive the point across. "So, no. There will be no Covenant. The Archaean will not move. Not for a long, long time."

The Oracle looks at him, stricken - her lips actually quiver. "B-but I foresaw - this is meant to happen - all the writings -" she trails away, staring at him. "Is it really impossible?"

"It really is. If it was possible to put down the Meteor, the Meteor would be down, trust me, and I'd not be here," the Messenger says and shakes his head. "I'm sorry - whatever the Draconian has been telling people, the Archaean has no part in it. Our hands are tied."

The Oracle looks at him like she's going to cry. "I - all my life I've been preparing - training for this moment - I was supposed to awaken all the Artrals for Noctis - I -" she stops, drawing a hitching breath. "It's all been for naught - the Darkness will win? Our star will be destroyed?"

"Okay, okay, let's back up a bit," the Messenger says with some alarm, lifting his hands soothingly to calm her. "Why don't you tell me about this terrible fate about to befall all of us, and we'll figure it out?"

So, she tells him. Faltering and stuttering, she tells him everything she knows.

It's a lot.

-

So maybe sleeping away the eons under the Meteor's weight wasn't the smartest idea. Turns out, he's missed a lot. Like, apparently, the Fall of Solheim? Which, in the human time frame, happened eons ago, of course - six thousand years is ancient time for humans. Since then, there's been other nations, empires, kingdoms - like the one they're currently in, the Kingdom of Lucis, the one the Draconian chose. Which has since fallen into ruin, because of war.

"So," the Messenger says. "There was a Chosen One who was supposed to be the first king of Lucis, but he got sick with this Starscourge and was betrayed, so he was made the Accursed instead and the Kings of Lucis descend from his brother, the usurper. And now the current last heir to the throne is supposed to kill his many, many times grand uncle to defeat the Scourge once and for all. With Astral's power and the Crystal."

The Oracle, now sitting down on a rocky ledge looking small and sad and hopeless, nods.

The Messenger rubs at his forehead. "And that didn't clue you in to the fact that Draconian is making this shit up as he goes along?"

The Oracle's shoulders slump. "Gods are fallible, I know," she says. "But I thought the Revelation of Bahamut was true. Everyone always said it was. Even the Kings of Lucis believe in it, and they're the closest to him."

"Sounds to me like nothing is true, really," the Messenger muses. "But okay. I have a question - what, exactly, is the Crystal you keep mentioning?"

The Oracle looks up, and sort of sputters at him. "It - what - how can you not - " she chokes out. "It's the Heart of our Star - "

"The heart of a Star is mostly hydrogen and helium and thermonuclear fusion under pressure," the Messenger says and folds his arms. "I've never heard of this Crystal of yours. Is it something the Draconian made, maybe?"

"I-it was gifted to mankind so that we may know lasting prosperity -" the Oracle says before faltering and frowning at her own knees, confused. "It gives powers to the Kings of Lucis. It has protected the Kingdom for centuries, and they have protected it. I don't…"

The Messenger scratches at his neck, not sure what to tell her. It sounds like a lot of stuff the Astrals can do. The Archaean could probably whip up a magical rock too, if he wasn't under a bit of pressure at the moment. Well, he could probably still do it.

Under pressure is how gems were made.

Bit beside the point, though.

The Oracle looks up at him, actual tears in her eyes. "Everything I have been told my whole life is a lie, isn't it?" she asks as the tears spill out. "The Revelation of Bahamut is a lie. The Draconian dwells in the Crystal, it's his chamber, his fortress and for two thousand years the Kings of Lucis have bled for its upkeep."

Ouch. "Don't know what to tell you, Lady, this is all news to me," the Messenger says awkwardly. "Maybe we should set the whole… existential horror aside for a moment. Tell me more about this Accursed."

-

Six thousand years he bore the weight of the Meteor just fine. Now that he's stepped away from it, this is what he gets from it - a tension headache.

"So this guy was a healer fighting this Scourge, he was the Chosen One, supposed to be the king, the First King of Lucis, this great magical nation to be…" the Messenger says, just to clarify, while rubbing at his temple. "And then he was betrayed, usurped, and kept prisoner and tortured by the Kings of Lucis for two thousand years."

The Oracle nods slowly.

The Messenger hums in understanding. "Yeah, I kind of see where he's coming from."

The Oracle winces. "Yes, same," she admits with a sigh and then continues her increasingly depressing explanation of all the things he'd missed.

It's getting late by the time he has the full picture. Time is relative when you're Ancient Astral Being, or whatever, but as a Messenger he experiences daylight the same as your regular humans and the sun is going down below the horizon. Which apparently means the Daemons of the Star Scourge are going to come out.

"Alrighty, I want to see these Daemons and the Scourge for myself," the Messenger says, stretching his arms. "I'm guessing the radiation from the Meteor is keeping them away from here?"

"The light, yes," the Oracle says, lifting her staff. "I have the power to keep them at bay. I can also create Havens, sacred ground that will repel them."

"Neat - don't do that just yet, though, I want to see them," the Messenger says. "After that we can hopefully figure out something that won't involve the Archaean's power."

"Right," the Oracle says, taking a slow breath to steel herself, preparing to lever herself back to her feet with her staff. "I will do all I can, even - even if I cannot fulfil my original duty. I will do everything I can to cure our star."

"That's the spirit," the Messenger says and holds out a hand to her. "By the way, never caught your name."

"Lunafreya - Lunafreya Nox Fleuret," the Oracle says and takes his hand. "And you, my lord - what can I call you?"

"Not your lord, for a start," the Messenger says and pulls her up and to her feet, thinking of a name. Oh, well, why fix what's not broken. "Call me Desmond. Now, what say you we get out of here Lunafreya?"

Lunafreya nods and follows him away from the crater. Behind them the Archaean stands still, steadfastly shouldering his stellar burden, like he always did. Desmond casts him a last look, shaking his head - the last six thousand years had not been kind to him. The Meteor's radiation really brought out the Isu in him too, it looks like. Awkward.

One of these days he would stop being such a sucker about world ending disasters. One of these days.

Not today though.

-

Lol. Lmao even.

Here you can see in real time my daily word limit coming at me as I pass it somewhere in the middle of this and the writing starts getting increasingly nonsensical as it goes on. Anyway. Desmond as the Archaean, just because the white streaks on Titan made me go 👀

Also we're just ignoring Gentiana's existence here entirely. And pretty much all sense and logic.

It's 2 a.m. I'm tired.

[scarletttries]

Baldur's Gate 3 Companions With a Shy GN!Reader...(Baldur's Gate 3 Request)

Request: " Can I request for Baldur's Gate 3 companions with shy gender neutral s/o please?"

Pairings: Astarion x Reader, Wyll Ravengard x Reader, Gale Dekarios x Reader, Shadowheart x Reader, Karlach x Reader

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who sent in requests and has been reblogging my Baldur's Gate posts! Consider me open for any BG3 requests, let me know if you want to see more headcanons like this :)

Astarion:

- At first Astarion would find it hard to reconcile your shyness with his understanding of the way people behave. He would be suspicious of you initially, wondering why you insist on playing your cards so close to your chest. It wouldn't be until you finally warmed up to him and started to talk a bit more that he realised that this quiet tone to you is actually very endearing to him.

- When you two get together he would feel very proud to be the person you speak to the most. Astarion can be a little insecure sometimes so knowing that you choose to talk to him despite being selective with who you speak to would mean a lot to him. It would help him to trust you more too, knowing the the deep bond between you is almost a secret that you would never dare whisper to anyone else.

- Astarion loves being able to communicate with you with just a sly glance or a single whispered word, the two of you often having entire conversations without saying a word to those around you. When you need to talk your way into somewhere Astarion's always happy to do the talking, but he can't help but be impressed with the way you can navigate through a room quiet and unnoticed.

- As a partner Astarion needs more reassurance than he ever likes to show, so knowing that you'll go against your shy instincts to whisper a flirty thought or a sentimental memory to him when he starts to look worn out always boosts his spirits. He didn't know how much he needed someone just like you in his life until you became a core part of it.

Wyll:

- Wyll never shies away from the public or a spotlight, announcing himself as he enters almost any room, so when he meets someone who prefers to listen to those around them instead of interrupting, he'd become very interested in what you have to say. He'd make the effort to get to know you even if it didn't happen as naturally as sometimes other bonds have come to him, but as he worked to gain your trust and attention he'd never regret a moment of time spent getting you to warm up to him.

- When the two of you are together Wyll will never miss an opportunity to sing your praises, no matter how bashful it makes you! He needs you to know how amazing and appreciated you are, as he can never tell if you fully recognise your own brilliance.

- Wyll falls in love with the way you think before you speak, listening to every part of his story and really considering everything he tells you, never jumping to an assumption as so many people in his life have. He finds your accepting nature makes him a better man, and in return he only grows a deeper fondness for the way you carry yourself.

- As a partner Wyll always needs someone to be there for him, listening and reassuring, and he really finds that partner in you. He's never felt more loved and respected as he does when you give him the time and space to work through his feelings and history, the quiet stillness you bring to his life letting him find a peace he's never known before.

Gale:

- Gale has spent enough time studying magic at scholarly institutes to have met more than a few shy souls in his past, so when he notices you playing the shrinking violet he knows exactly how to give you all the time and space you need to finally share a bit of yourself with him.

- He knows that the most important things to hear usually come from those who don't speak unless they have something to say, and there's no exception to that in you. He really gives weight to everything you share with him, every opinion you pose, and every compliment you reward him with through flushed cheeks and nervous laughter. It only makes it that much sweeter that you don't dish out such comments absentmindedly.

- Gale also enjoys using a bit of your shyness against you, gaining a certain amount of satisfaction from being overtly flirty in public once the two of you are well into dating. He can't help but smile at the way you shy away from his loud declarations of love and the flirty comments whispered far too loudly across a tavern. His heart practically bursts when you try to hide your face in his hands when he's being far too vocal about how beautiful he finds you in front of the rest of your companions, and not a day goes by that he doesn't remind you of that fact.

- Thankfully he usually waits until you are alone to let his adoration pour out in his gentle words and touches, enjoying that while he can be a brash as he wants in public, he can feel your true appreciation in the quiet you spend alone. His life has held more than one dramatic chapter, so having someone who loves him so sweetly and mutters his name so softly when they praise him really means the world to Gale.

Shadowheart:

- More than anyone else, Shadowheart can appreciate the desire to keep parts of yourself hidden behind some firmly closed doors. She finds herself drawn to your quiet personality as the rest of the party are a bit boisterous for her taste, often favouring the seat beside you at any given campfire, knowing her boundaries will be respected, and any conversation made will be worthwhile.

- Once you two are together, she sees you as a respite from the endless questions of the outside world. The two of you can spend hours in comfortable silence together, only your interlocking fingers letting the other know you are still there. You give her the space to think through her decisions, but at the same time she knows that if you choose to speak up then she really should consider listening to what you have to say.

- Shadowheart finds herself more able to share pieces of herself with you, as you open up at the same gradual pace that she does. You don't rush to tell her everything or bombard her with questions like the others. Instead she'll often finding you waiting outside her tent at first light when she rises, offering her a hand for a quiet stroll through the forest as you softly tell her a tale from your childhood and she tries to imagine herself growing up alongside you, in a sweet version of her life she could almost convince herself is the truth.

- Shadowheart doesn't fully know her past, but with you as her partner, her future finally starts to come into focus, all because of you.

Karlach:

- Karlach has been loud and brash since the moment she could speak, so at first she thinks your shy demeanour is a sign of rejection of her friendship. It's disappointing that you don't want to talk to her, but she's not sensitive enough to worry about what every single person thinks of her. It would be endlessly frustrating to you that you have to really put yourself out there, making every effort to be by her side and forcing yourself to respond to her every remark to try and let her know you really do like her. In the end you'd just have to ask her to dance at a celebration with the rest of the group, and when she laughs and says she thought you didn't like her, please prepare yourself to tell her you like her so much that it makes it genuinely hard to talk sometimes.

- Once Karlach understands the concept of shyness and that it is not a personal affront to her, she will be very happy to do all the speaking for both of you. Every journey you take across the lands she will gladly fill the silence with every thought and tale, celebrating loudly every times she manages to make you gasp or laugh along with her.

- Karlach will take a lot of pride in the thought that you like her so much that you are almost rendered speechless, and get quite jealous when she realises you are being shy around other people too. Worried that everyone will be seduced by your strong-silent type behaviour she would definitely insist on holding your hand as much as possible, or loudly shouting across combat that you and her are an item just in case anyone was getting the wrong idea.

- While your personality might have started as a bit of a mystery to Karlach, once you two really know each other she'll come to highly value your way of carrying yourself, learning a few things about protecting herself from undue influences, while keeping herself open to the important people in her life, like you!

[wandering-pirate]

How does a moon lose its glow?

Summary: Swansea always thought he was looking out for you, but now? Now that he learned what happened, something he could’ve stopped, what would the mechanic do?

Pairings: Father figure! Swansea x reader

a/n: Hey, everyone! Just a quick note before you proceed.

Trigger warning: angst, sexual abuse, violence against women and trauma from said experiences. There are no explicit contents, however, the trauma of a victim is detailed in the story. As always, take care of yourselves while reading <3

a/n: shoutout to @kobiisworld for requesting this!! ask box is open for requests!

1 day before the crash

Swansea's forehead never lost its wrinkles this week. The old man's face was always lined like he was constantly carrying the weight of the world, but now they were deeper.

The mechanic always knew you as the one to break the silence, the one who kept things light, always making the long stretches across space feel less like a prison and more like a field trip. The moon in Tulpar's darkness.

"Come on, geezer," you grinned, pointing to the a steel chain that’s almost comical in size compared to his rough, calloused hands. "You’ve been fixing engines before I was born, but is that lil thing too much for you?"

He may never outright say it, but you were like a daughter to him. But recently, you changed, and he could see it in the way you didn’t even try to lift the mood anymore.

No more jokes with Daisuke, no more corny comments that always made the captain groan, no more gossips with Anya, and no lighthearted banter with Swansea. Instead, there was just… emptiness. The mechanic didn't know how a moon would lose its glow, but somehow, you did.

You became a stranger. A shell. He could see it in the way your hands uncontrollably shook, in the distant look in your eyes. It scared him more than he wanted to admit. But he was never one to poke around on someone else's business. No, always kept his nose to himself.

Now, you were hunched over the inventory of the utility room, checking quantity when Swansea entered. You jumped at the hissing sound of the entrance, your breath catching in your throat.

"Ya alright, kid?" He did his best to keep his tone gentle, as gentle as a Swansea could be.

“Yeah… yeah, just thought…” You stammered, your voice faltering as you quickly steadied yourself and forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “What’re you doing here, old man?”

The snark was there, something Swansea didn’t notice he missed until it was gone. But it wasn't the same, it was like you were trying too hard to keep it up. Something you said, however, caught his attention.

“What?”

“Wh-what do you mean, ‘what’?” You laughed nervously.

“You thought what?” Swansea pressed, his brows furrowing and meaty hands placed on his hips.

“Nothing...”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, though he wasn’t supposed to poke around. Still, he had his suspicions: something was off. He needed to get it out of you. “‘Fraid I’m an alien out for blood, eh?”

Your eyes met, and he felt his heart squeeze. Your pleading look, the watery gloss in your eyes that signaled him of unshed tears, asking him something, begging. Your voice caught in your throat as you opened your mouth to speak. “I- Swansea, pleas--”

"Hey Swansea, Cap's lookin' for you." Suddenly, panic flashed back into you, and the mechanic could see that the man who entered just triggered the same fear from before. You quickly turned away, clutching the clipboard to your chest. "ASAP."

The old man eyed the co-pilot, wondering what the hell Curly needed so badly that he had to send his greasy bud over, normally the captain summoned Swansea himself. And what the hell was that reaction from you? "Heard ya the first time. Y/N! C'mon, grab your stuff, I need help.”

"Curly just needs yo-"

"He needs me, but I need me some help. If you've got a tantrum with that, speak up now." Swansea’s blood was boiling at the way Jimmy was eyeing you carefully, but the co-pilot's pressed in a thin line. "Nothin’ to say? Alright, we’re outta here."

The mechanic stomped off the room with you very quick and close behind him. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

On the way to the cockpit, you both met Daisuke with a suspiciously bulging Hawaiian shirt. The old man sighed; he swears the kid's going to get diabetes before Swansea would with his sweetener addiction. "Daisuke, bring Y/N to the kitchen and give her water. Don’t go to utility ‘til then."

"You got it boss!" The intern saluted, causing the sweetener to fall off his previous clutch while his poor attempt to catch it. For the first time in a while, Swansea saw you smile. Small, but still, a smile. "Come this way, m'lady."

The mechanic watched both of you retreat, and didn't even notice how his tense shoulders relaxed, at least you're safe… for now.

0 days before the crash

Your glossy eyes and desperate tone bugged the old man so much that his once unbothered and easy sleep was now avoiding him like a plague. You were about to say something before the roach entered. Swansea rubbed his face, frustrated.

You reminded him of his youngest daughter, back when she was your age: bouncy, full of life, and always full of questions. You were the same, so cheery, like the world had no weight and oxygen was your power source, keeping you charged up every day. Glowing that damn light of yours, infecting others with joy, even a gruff old man like him.

Swansea could only watch, helpless, as you slipped away.

The man stood up from his bed, he never realized how Daisuke's snores filled the whole quarters up. He trudged to the lounge area and he was surprised to see you, not to lounge, but quite the opposite.

Curled up on the floor, your knees pulled to your chest, rocking back and forth as you mumbled something to yourself. His brow furrowed in confusion, but what really caught him was how you were pressed against the LED wall, facing every possible exit, like you were preparing for something - anything - that might come.

The closer he got, the more he saw the tremors running through your body. His heart dropped, you were clutching a knife.

"Kid, you okay?" He winced, mentally scolding himself, you clearly weren't and even have a damn knife in your hand. Your head snapped to him. Uncertain of where to point the knife, you placed it between you. "Easy, alright, it's just me. Swansea, just me."

He looked at you, your face streaked with tears, sweat, and snot, everything a tangled mess, leaving your skin pale and raw. It was worse than the knife. You slowly lowered your hand, but the tears came faster now. Scrubbing at your already irritated face with your woolen sleeve, a large hand gently stopped you.

You flinched away from him, crawling backwards. Stumbling as if his touch was burning and it scalded your skin and dropping the knife. "Please, no, no-- don't hurt me-- please, please."

There you were at the corner, hands pushing down the sides of your head. Figure rocking back and forth, mumbling no's and stop’s, begging. And there he was, kneeling from where you once were, shocked, speechless and mortified at your state.

Something in his chest slowly bubbled, a steady warmth turned to a hot white rage. "Who did this to you?"

You were still a mumbling, sobbing mess, the LED moon shining its unforgiving brightness down on your pathetic frame. "I-I don't want to do this anymor-- i--"

His mind raced, piecing it together, the way you flinched when he opened the door, how you panicked at the sound of the co-pilot’s voice, how you avoided Jimmy. And then it hit him: the shift in Jimmy’s mood the same week you started pulling away. "That fucking bastard."

Swansea always harbored a deep-rooted belief: anyone who dared touch those he cared about, especially his young ones, deserved no mercy. It wasn’t just a philosophy; it was a vendetta shaped by a wound that never truly healed.

That wound reopened every time he thought of his Camie, his youngest, the one you reminded him of. She came home from college one winter, and something was... off. Her usual spark was gone. She barely spoke, quiet as a hill buried in snow. He didn’t press, thinking she just needed time.

But Christmas came, and out of nowhere, she broke down. Sobbing. Right there, in front of the whole family, on what was supposed to be a day of glee. Just like that, the holiday wasn’t about joy anymore. It was about pain. Hers. His. Everyone’s.

And it crushed him. He couldn’t stop blaming himself, for not being there when she needed him. He thought he paid up for it, sending her ex to the ICU for two weeks, but the pain his daughter went through will never be removed.

Years later, that same guilt came roaring back. This time louder, harder. He saw the same signs and once again, he regretted not pressing. He felt like he failed to protect his daughter all over again.

The mechanic didn't realize he left you, he didn't notice where he was heading. As if moving on autopilot, Swansea was now looking down on his barreling feet. He didn't even remember how the axe ended in his hands. But he knew one thing, the men's sleeping quarter was just around the corner.

Rounding up, he bumped into Curly, now standing straight and alert after meeting an axe-wielding Swansea, face full of murder. "What th-- What are you doing with an axe in the middle of the night?"

"Get outta way, let me see that piece of shit"

"Woah, woah, woah," The captain had his hands up, stopping the older man from proceeding any further. "Let's talk this out alright, just slo--"

"Jimmy! Come out you son of a bitch!"

That probably woke the whole ship up, but that was the least of his concerns. He's out for the co-pilot's head and not even his captain could stop him.

"Who the fuck's shouting this late!?"

"Ah, there you are." As soon as Jimmy stepped out of the quarters, the older man lunged at him, but Curly grabbed him just in time. Swansea cursed under his breath. "Come here and let me put your head on a chopping block, you mutt."

Footsteps shuffled in the dim hallway as Anya and Daisuke appeared, both disheveled. "Boss?" The intern was now snapping him out of his trance, his mind seemed to calm but the rage still pumped adrenaline in his veins. "What's happening?"

Anya lingered near the wall, her face pale, her arms crossed tightly over herself.

Curly’s grip on Swansea was firm as the mechanic fought to lunge at Jimmy. “Let me go!” Swansea snarled, his voice breaking with rage. “That bastard hurt her. And by God, if you don’t admit it right now.”

Jimmy, standing a few feet away, looked more defensive than calm. “Calm the fuck down, what are you even trying to accuse me of!?” His voice grew loud, frustration rising.

Swansea didn’t back down. “Don’t play innocent! You did something to the kid! You're going to pa--”

“Enough!” Curly barked, stepping between them. “You’re not laying a hand on anyone until we figure this out!”

"Figure what out?" Jimmy scoffed. "I didn’t touch Y/N. She’s probably just overworked. Hell, maybe she’s paranoid. You ever think of that?"

"Watch your mouth. She’s not paranoid, you bastard. She’s scared - no - she's fucking horrified."

“Stop…” A hoarse voice broke through as the hallway fell into a tense silence.

All heads turned to you, who stood in the doorway, clutching the frame like it was the only thing holding you up. Your tear-stricken face and shadowed form silenced the room.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, forcing a broken smile. “Please… just stop.”

Daisuke saw the opposite, your unsteady hands, weak knees, the way your eyes quickly averted from Jimmy.

Without a word, he stepped forward, placing an arm over your shoulders and positioning himself between you and the others like a shield. “Let’s get you out of here."

He flinched at how your body recoiled, but eventually, you broke down, collapsing into him, sobbing uncontrollably. Internally, it broke him, too. He had no idea what was going on, but he was sure of one thing: he'd always stand by his mentor over the co-pilot.

Curly’s jaw tightened. His eyes flicked from your fragile state and back to Swansea’s anguished glare. He glanced at Jimmy, who shifted, his arms crossed.

“She said she’s fine,” Jimmy muttered, his voice defensive, almost annoyed. “Why is this even a thing? Can we move on?”

“You—” Swansea’s voice broke, raw with fury. He took a step forward, axe raised.

“Swansea, stop.” Curly’s voice cracked like a whip, cutting through the rising chaos. But even as Swansea temporarily lowered the weapon, his knuckles were still white around the handle.

“Are you really just going to let this slide?” Swansea’s words were sharp, biting. “The damned kid's a walking dead at this point, Curly! Can't you see that or are you just blind?”

Swansea’s chest heaved but he stepped back. The heavy clang of the axe echoed as it hit the floor. “But what can I say,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “Your bud's guilty but you're the cap right? Just let him run around like nothing happened.”

“Stop. Just stop. I’ll handle it,” Curly said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You two, to the lounge. Now.”

Daisuke stayed by your side, his hand steady on your shoulders and guiding you away from the mess. Anya lingered behind; her gaze on the floor and arms wrapped around herself. She raised her head and met Curly's gaze.

Curly’s stomach twisted, seeing the nurse's blaming stare. Anya shifted her eyes to you and Daisuke’s retreating forms. “I told you, captain.” After that stabbing sentence, the nurse followed the younger members out the suffocating hallway.

He’d seen it, hadn’t he? But he did not allow himself to process it, understand how serious it was. Because it was Jimmy. His co-pilot, his partner in every storm, his... friend. It couldn’t be him.

But now, looking at the man in question, so quick to deflect, so defensive in the face of Swansea’s rage, Curly felt the floor shift beneath him. His chest tightened. He’d believed Anya then, but he hadn’t acted, hoping time and caution would reveal the best course. What if his hesitation had been the mistake? What if waiting for clarity cost him, them, more murkiness?

As the three men stayed at the hallway, Curly looked at Jimmy’s avoiding gaze and Swansea’s held-back rage. For the first time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had failed them all.

The ship was still, but the tension was suffocating. The echoes of the fleeting chaos heavily clung to the air. Anya and Daisuke were in the medbay with Y/N.

With all the stress of Anya’s situation and the news from the corporate, he never noticed how Y/N slipped away from them. Not until it was too late anyway.

Swansea sat in the kitchen, his head bowed over a cup of cold coffee. Curly hesitated before sitting across from him, his hands pressed flat against the table.

"Where's the mutt?"

"I sent him to the quarters, have him cool off a bit. Makes us all have a mature and level-headed talk." The captain's hands were shaking, but he squeezed them together in a grip. "About the situation. Anya.. she--"

"Spit it out," Swansea muttered, not lifting his head.

Curly swallowed hard. "Anya told me. About what he did to her." His voice was barely above a whisper, but the words sliced through the quiet like a blade.

Swansea’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing. If the axe were to be in the mechanic's hands, Curly's head would have been split in half. "And you did nothing?"

"I believed her," Curly said quickly, his voice tight. "I just—I didn’t know what to do. Jimmy’s my friend, Swansea. And we’re all stuck on this ship, more than a hundred days away from the others, from the police. I thought... I thought I had time to figure it out."

Swansea let out a bitter laugh. "And while you were figuring it out, he went for Y/N." His hand squeezed the mug tightly. "She trusted us, Curly. But one spat and trampled on it, another turned a blind eye and--" Swansea's guilt caught up on his throat. "And the last ignored the signs."

Curly didn’t respond immediately, his gaze dropping to the table. "You think I don’t know that?" he whispered. "You think I haven’t replayed every word of what Anya told me? I wanted to keep the peace, and now..." His voice faltered, images of Y/N’s tear-streaked face flooding his mind.

The older man's voice was low, the pain in it, sharp. "She’s just a kid, Curly. We were supposed to protect her, but what were we doing? Being fucking robots for money-hungry tyrants who doesn't give a fuck for their dogs."

Curly exhaled shakily, dragging a hand down his face. "I failed her. I failed them both." He looked up, meeting Swansea’s hard gaze. "But I can’t fail again. Whatever happens next, I won’t hesitate this time. Jimm--"

Before Swansea could respond, the ship lurched violently. Alarms blared, and the lights flickered. What Curly didn’t know was that the words he’d just spoken were ones he would never have the chance to live by.

a/n: got a bit carried away. part 2? maybeee??

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Can I get 34 from the prompt list with Max Verstappen?

Burn It All Down ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Prompt: 34. “You could put a knife to my throat and I wouldn’t flinch.”

₊ ⊹ mv x reader ★

₊ ⊹ fluff + angst + mafia au ★

masterlist ☾☼

There is the city outside, beyond that high-rise apartment window full of bright lights against the dim darkness that spreads out like living darkness across the room. This air was thick with tension only found in the underworld of crime and clung to your sweaty body as you sat along the edge of the worn, leather couch. The collapse of your father's empire was suffocating to him.

You had always played the part of the dutiful daughter, watching from the shadows as men like Max Verstappen rose to power within your father's rival mafia family. But tonight, everything had changed. Max wasn't just a soldier anymore. He was a betrayal.

You didn't know when it was exactly—that point at which the lines blurred between enemies and something else—you just knew you couldn't deny it anymore. Max was no longer a thorn in your side; he had morphed into a problem.

Now, standing before you, clad in his black leather jacket, looking more ominous than ever, he had become the problem you no longer had the luxury to ignore.

Max entered, his eyes piercing into yours and cold, yet intense, but at the same time, was a flicker of another emotion. Was it maybe regret? Or something deeper still? You didn't know. But one thing did you know for sure- you knew Max Verstappen was there not as a foe, but as the man who made a decision.

"You shouldn't be here," you said, your voice steady, despite the rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

Max didn't flinch at your words. He only took a step closer, his presence suffocating. "I came to see you. To tell you the truth."

The words felt like a punch to the chest. He was here to betray his family. To betray everything he had fought for all these years.

"You think I'll believe you?" you said, your hand curling into a fist by your side. "You were never supposed to be my enemy, Max. I never wanted this."

Max’s jaw tightened, his lips pressed into a hard line. “I didn’t either. But I’ve spent my entire life being trained to be this monster, to be a weapon for my family. And for what? To destroy yours? To keep killing without ever stopping to think about why?"

He was angry now, his voice low and rough. "I'm done with this life. I'm done being the monster. I'm done being a pawn in a game that will never end."

Your heart raced as he closed the distance between you, and suddenly, he was right there, standing too close, his presence overwhelming. You could feel the heat from his body, the rawness in his words.

"Then why now?" You couldn't help but ask, his decision settling in like lead. "Why come to me now, Max? Do you think I can just forget everything?"

Too much had happened. He had killed too many of your people for you to just forgive him. He hadn't known, but that didn't change the outcome.

He shook his head slowly, eyes softening for the briefest moment. "No. But I cannot keep living this lie. I'm not going to be the one who keeps killing for the sake of power anymore. I'm finished."

You met his eyes, the battle warring inside you. A part of you wanted to believe him. A part of you wanted to trust him, wanted to toss aside the years of hatred, of bloodshed. But the other part of you—the daughter of a mafia boss, trained from birth to distrust men like him—couldn't.

"Max, you think you can just leave them all behind? You think you can walk away without consequences?" Your voice was shaking now, barely contained. "Do you really think you can just walk away from your family?"

Max's face hardened, the pain in his eyes a reflection of the decision he had already made. "I don't care anymore. I would burn it all to the ground for you."

Your breath caught in your throat as his words landed like a strike to the heart.

Max stepped closer, but before you could process it, the door slammed open, and three figures appeared in the doorway. Daniel, Lando, and Charles— Max's mafia brothers, who had somehow followed him to her house, to her room.

Daniel, always the level-headed one, was the first to speak, his voice stern. "Max, what the hell are you doing? You can't just walk away. You can't—"

"Shut up, Daniel," Max interrupted, his voice filled with fury. "You don't understand."

Lando crossed his arms, his expression part incredulity, part anger. "You're really throwing everything away for her? For her?" he spat, nodding toward you. "You're making a huge mistake, Max. You can't just betray the family like this."

Charles, normally calm, looked between you and Max, his eyes narrowed. "This isn't just about her, Max. This is about everything we've worked for. You know what they'll do to you if you walk away. You're putting us all in danger."

Max didn't flinch. He didn't back down. His gaze was unyielding as he turned to face them, his voice steely. "I've already made my decision.". I don't care if they come after me. I don't care if they kill me. I'm doing this for her." He pointed to you, his finger trembling slightly. "I'm doing this because I can't live in this bloodbath anymore. And if I have to choose between them and her, I choose her."

The room fell silent.

You could feel the weight of Max's words—words that could tear apart everything he had worked for, everything he had fought to protect. Your heart ached for him. And yet, despite the betrayal, you felt something else—something far deeper. Hope.

"Max, you can't be serious," you whispered, voice breaking. "You know what will happen if you do this. I know what'll happen. My family could kill you. Your own family would kill you. Hell, for all you know, I'm a ploy and I'm going to kill you at your most vulnerable state!"

A subtle softening crept up Max's features as the words fell, his tone one of sincerity, "You could put a knife to my throat, and I wouldn't flinch," Those last words slammed home, washing into you like a tsunami wave. You think you saw, suddenly in his eyes, a better reason than just love-for it was also freedom-to be able to give and take from one another end.

"You really would? You really would leave everything that you've been trained for, that you've worked for, that you've been loyal to, for me?" you asked, your voice breaking and trembling as you took a step closer to him.

Max's jaw softened, a little something in his gaze. "I already did."

For a long moment, the world outside seemed to fade, and the only thing in your existence was the both of you within that room. Your enemies were still there, in the doorway, but Max was resolute about what he was saying, his decision solid and concrete: he had already chosen.

And so had you.

"I can't promise you an easy life, Max," you said softly. "But if you're really willing to risk it all for me… then I'll fight for you."

Max stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours. "Then let's burn it all down together."

The room was silent and, for the first time in what felt like forever, you realized that no matter how hard the world fought against you, nothing could break the two of you apart.

The days that followed were chaos. Max's betrayal was not left unexposed, and the repercussions were brutal. But with you by his side, the two of you fought back against the storm, tearing down the remnants of both mafia families. It wasn't easy. There were losses, close calls, and moments where it felt like the world was trying to pull you both apart.

But you stayed. Together.

Max Verstappen had burned his past to the ground, but in doing so, he had built something new. With you. And in the end, it was that bond—the one forged in blood and fire—that kept you both unbreakable.

✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡ ⋆｡˚

i tried something different this time! let me know if y'all like it! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04

[aventurineswife]

Aventurine with a workaholic Reader who is usually pretty sturdy, but becomes more prone to exhaustion and illness during colder weather. (Like, sure, seasonal depression and all that, but especially with Reader not just mentally but also physically.)

Aventurine noticing Reader being swamped with work the past few weeks (even pulling more than just a few all-nighters) and one night, he comes home and finds them passed out on the couch, maybe slightly feverish and definitely not at all budging when they’re usually a light sleeper.

Softened by Silence

Summary: Aventurine notices that his partner has been pushing themselves too hard, working through the nights and risking their health. As their exhaustion worsens, he finds them feverish and vulnerable, lying on the couch in their shared apartment. Concerned and protective, Aventurine stays by their side, offering care and comfort in a rare moment of tenderness. Though he would never admit it, his feelings for them go beyond strategy and games—he genuinely cares, and for once, he is willing to let go of his calculating nature and simply protect them.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Aventurine, Vulnerable Reader, Exhaustion, Tender Moments, Caregiving, Slow Burn, Emotional Vulnerability, Character Growth.

Aventurine's office was the usual mix of grandiosity and chaos—papers strewn across the table, an ornate glass of whiskey reflecting the faint glow of the dim lights, and a faint smell of burned cigar that lingered in the air. Yet, nothing seemed to capture his attention tonight. His sharp eyes were fixed on the ticking clock on the wall, its rhythm beating in sync with the unease settling in his chest.

He had picked up on it weeks ago—how you had been pushing yourself harder than usual, working through the nights as if there was no end in sight. A familiar and, to him, unsettling trend had emerged: your exhaustion had grown more pronounced, your once-constant energy dwindling with each passing day. As much as he reveled in games of chance, this wasn't a gamble he was willing to let you play alone.

The weather had gone colder, biting at the skin with a chill that seemed to creep under the warmest layers. For you, this meant something more than the simple discomfiture of seasonality; it took tolls on your body and mind. A change of season meant heightened weariness, and that didn't just settle in your head but seemed to sink in deeper in your bones. As much as you could push through it, your immune system was giving in, leaving you more vulnerable to sickness day after day.

The stress of your work had only amplified it. He saw you for days—really, weeks—as you burned that candle at both ends, risking your health to meet and exceed deadlines and expectations. The long hours spent in a hunched position around your desk, fueled with coffee and ambition, slowly took their toll, which you didn't let surface, hiding well behind the stoic determination that you always carried.

But tonight, it had reached a boiling point. Aventurine went back to your shared apartment after another grueling round of meetings, his brain still reeling with figures and strategy. As he entered, the silence greeted him first—the absence of your presence, the murmur of your voice, or the clicking of your keyboard.

He narrowed his eyes as he walked further in. The dim light in the living room was flickering, and there you were—slumped on the couch, curled up on yourself, the faint sound of your labored breathing filling the room. You never were one to sleep through anything, let alone this deeply.

His heart skipped a beat as he approached you, eyes scanning over your flushed face. You were feverish, barely moving, curled up around yourself protectively, in a futile attempt to ward off chills. The sharpness, the composed look on your face, was nowhere to be seen. Only exhaustion, one that seemed far too heavy for you to bear.

He stood there for a moment, letting it sink in. You had pushed yourself past your limits, and now, it was clear that the universe had dealt you a hand you couldn't outwit. You were a force to be reckoned with, but even the sharpest of minds sometimes needed to rest.

Aventurine let out a quiet sigh, his eyes softening as he dropped to his haunches beside you. His hand hovered over your forehead, checking for the familiar warmth of fever. His fingertips brushed against the heat of your skin, and for a moment, his mask cracked—his usual confidence faltering in the face of your vulnerability.

The usual playfulness in his eyes had dulled, giving over to something deeper, almost protective. He reached down for the blanket that lay on the floor and then gently pulled it over you, handling you with fragile care. His eyes hovered on you for another beat, his mind running over a million different strategies in his head, none of which seemed appropriate for now.

"You always do this," he muttered softly to himself, his voice tinged with both exasperation and concern. "Always pushing too far. Never letting anyone help."

You didn't respond—of course you didn't. Your feverish state left you too far gone to notice, too far gone to argue. But that didn't stop him. He carefully adjusted your position, lifting your head just enough to place a soft pillow beneath it. The comforting touch of his fingers brushed against your skin, a gesture that was almost tender, though he would never admit it.

Aventurine sat beside you, never once looking away from your face as he loosened the tie at his collar, the tension of the day slowly draining from his body. His mind reeled with thoughts, but none of them were work-related. For once, the games and risks didn't seem so important.

He leaned back against the couch, watching you closely. "You’re no good to anyone when you’re like this, you know," he muttered under his breath. "You’re not invincible, as much as you like to pretend otherwise."

But in between the two of you stood a silence, comfortable, yet somehow awkward. The strategist that Aventurine was, he just couldn't help but ask himself what game you played with yourself by pushing the limits of your own capacities. But the truth is, you were more than just a pawn on a board. You were somebody he cared about, regardless of whether he said otherwise.

His eyes softened as you stirred slightly in your fevered sleep. The vulnerability you rarely showed was on full display now, and it unsettled him in ways he couldn't explain. He wanted to shake you awake, to tell you to rest, to stop being so damn stubborn. But instead, he remained silent, letting you rest.

Night kept stretching on, yet his watchful eyes didn't blink. Evening chills crept in, and for once, something that he could not vanquish with a well-timed strategy or even the right bet. This time, he would remain by your side—not as a calculating strategist but simply because he refused to let you face this alone.

Tomorrow would come with its demands and the cold realities of their world, but tonight, Aventurine would protect you, even if it meant taking a gamble on something far more valuable than any game he had ever played.

And for once, he didn't mind losing.