#but the Unraveling just captures it best

[ranuunculus]

the Unraveling sounds so mechanical to me… not to mean that it is flat or rigid, but that it sounds like the EP is almost a contraption, the bass and drums like clicking and turning gears, the guitars are so grave and Kyo’s voice sounds like the whirring and almost wailing of a metal mechanism. In my mind I can only envision something like the inner workings of a clock.

[itsswritten]

butterfly kisses

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 1.7K (honestly it's just a little drabble)

Warnings: 18+, implied smut, lots of fluff, mating frenzy

Summary: Azriel just can't get enough of your wings <3

Wings Universe - More from this world.

Azriel wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky.

He had thanked the Mother every day since the bond snapped, and even more when you accepted it. When Mor had introduced you into his life only a couple of years ago, he never imagined this would be the outcome.

Azriel vividly remembered the first night he met you. It was another gathering at Rita’s, one of the many that had unfolded, now peace settled over the land. 

Mor with playful determination had pulled you over to their table, arm looped around yours– almost in a way that said she wasn’t going to let you escape. He had noticed the faint blush that creeped up your face to your pointed ears, merely from the proximity of your High Lord and Lady, and their inner circle. He recalled how you offered a shy little curtsy in their presence, that had led to the whole table stifling their laughter. Rhys kindly explained that such formalities were not necessary, especially not in Rita’s of all places. Azriel did his best to contain his mirth at the display, all the while chewing the inside of his cheek to stop the chuckle leaving his lips. He truly couldn’t get over how adorable you were, he'd found himself captivated by your endearing innocence. 

And that was only the start.

Mor explained how she’d met you in town one day and had essentially thrusted her friendship onto you, and it really didn’t take long for Azriel and his family to do the same. 

You were so sweet and caring, and slotted into Azriel’s life so easily that he found it hard to remember a time when you weren’t there at all. Your kindness towards the Archeron sisters, guiding them through the intricate transitions of fae life that they still at times struggled with. Nyx was absolutely enamoured with you, oftentimes seeking your company over his actual family. But they didn’t blame him, because they all did same. Your calm sweet nature was addictive to them all, especially Azriel.

Driven by an insatiable curiosity, Azriel found himself seeking every opportunity to unravel all your layers. He wanted to know everything about you. From your favourite foods, to the books that captured your attention.

His infatuation all made sense when the bond snapped. 

It was the last solstice.

Azriel had noticed how beautiful you were looking, as you always were. But you were clad in a breathtaking pale pink summer dress, the neckline delicately showcasing your décolletage. As you moved with a natural grace, the fabric billowed ever so slightly at the waist, accentuating your silhouette in a manner that held attention.

Or at least held Azriel’s attention. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

He watched you carefully navigate the chaos of the room. Nyx in one arm, giving Feyre some rest and reprieve in her pregnant state. Your other hand bringing in the cake Elain had spent all morning baking. Amidst the flurry of activity, you had been so close to dropping the cake. But Azriel's steady hand intervened just in time, grabbing the plate and taking it off you. Except in that moment your hands touched, grazed past one another in a way they had so many times before. 

But that time had been different.

It was Azriel’s turn to almost drop the cake. That all consuming warmth flooded his chest catching him off guard. A golden thread connecting itself to you. The mating bond. Finally.

And based on the bright red flush covering your cheeks, it was clear you’d felt it too. You’d fled the room then, overcome with emotion and what this new revelation meant. 

Though, it didn’t take long for Azriel to coax you round.

Ever the gentleman, he courted you. Taking you on the most thoughtful dates and spoiling you with bouquet after bouquet of flowers. He would leave little love notes and poetry for you to find. That it was really no surprise to anyone, when you decided to accept the bond.

That was only three weeks ago now.

Yourself and Azriel were deep in the mating frenzy. 

Rhys had kindly offered one of his private residences he had on the outskirts of Night. A smaller cottage, but with all the privacy you both needed. And Azriel had taken advantage of that privacy eliciting sounds from you that he would cherish forever and never tire hearing.

And then there were your wings. 

You had revealed them to him the first night after accepting the mating bond, and, Gods, was he done for.

Azriel had taken it upon himself, in the earlier months, to really vet you. His dedication to his role as Spymaster served as a guise for his self-indulgent exploration of you, delving into the intricate details of your being with a hunger that bordered on obsession. Not only had he discovered all the things you love, but he searched for details of who and what you were.

Finding himself holed up in the library at times, hours spent devoted to aquainiting himself to the type of fairy you were. 

He knew you had wings, was the type of fairy whose wings were the delicate kind. Most kept them concealed with magic. Yet, Azriel couldn't shake the thought that perhaps they were hidden not only for protection but also out of reverence for their breathtaking beauty. They were mesmerising. Enough to trap Azriel into some kind of trance. 

And perhaps possessively so, he was grateful not many males were privy to this part of you.

He was watching you now, laying on your front. Bare. Just how he’d left you when he took a moment to freshen up. You were giggling, your legs up and feet fluttering behind you while propped up over something.

“What are you doing, my love?” Azriel purred inquisitively, stepping closer towards the bed.

“Oh…Feyre was just checking in. Asking how much longer we might be,” he could hear you smile when you spoke, and watched as with the brush of your hand the magical parchment and ink disappeared that you’d been conversing with Feyre on.

“It’s not even been that long,”

“We’ve been gone three weeks–”

“And we’ll be gone 300 hundred more,”

You chuckled at his response, “Az, we do need to go back at some point. They need us.”

“I need you more.” There was no negotiating. Your family would be lucky to see you both before the next solstice at this rate.

Not that Azriel needed the frenzy to be satiated by you, but it truly was driving him. The primal need for you, overwhelming. The pair of you only stopped when you both fell into a slumber from exhaustion. And even then, there were many times you found each other in a sleep exhausted haze, tangled within and inside one another again.

The bed dipped either side of your legs, you were still on your front but could feel your mate over you. He had paused though, his eyes falling over your beautiful pink wings. The iridescent skin reflecting lights across the room. He had almost cried when he first saw them after you accepted the bond, mesmerised and overwhelmed by their beauty.

Getting to see this part of you, a part of you that was so private, stirred a gratefulness inside him. But there was something else too, a possessiveness that had slowly been creeping up his mind recently.

In the past three weeks, you had both done every possible maneuver, tried every kind of love making– fucking, screwing, mating. You’d even made him a crumbling wet mess just from playing with his wings. 

But he hadn’t touched yours.

No, they looked so delicate and soft, too beautiful to touch, that he hadn’t dared. 

You felt him situate himself behind you, his warm naked body lightly laying on you, his chest resting on your behind. His arms wormed their way under your hips to get comfy, and you splayed your wings flat against your back to fit him.

“Az?” you asked curiously, glancing slightly over at your shoulder to catch him in your peripheral.

He didn’t respond though, not with words. You felt his soft warm breath blowing on the membrane of your right wing, making your squirm under the touch. Your wing fluttering a little in the air.

“How sensitive are they? Too sensitive for me to touch?” You heard him behind you.

“Hm..” you tilted your head slightly to think, “They’re delicate, but you can touch them. Gently.”

You were waiting for him to wriggle his hand from out beneath you but instead you felt something warm and wet run against the bottom of your wing.

You couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping your lips at the soft touch. Azriel had taken it upon himself to use the tip of his tongue to explore this part of you, a part of you that was still very new to him. He felt you wriggle under him, and he shifted placing his full body weight on you so you couldn’t move.

His tongue traced the ridge of your wing, and he wasn’t letting up. Not when he’d made that sound from you. He wanted more of that. He moved and pressed his tongue flat against the delicate skin, evoking another moan from you.

“Does that feel good my little butterfly?” he purred, you could feel the smirk on his lips against your wing as he pressed a kiss on them.

You wanted to roll your eyes at his teasing, but it felt too good to do anything other than surrender to his touch.

“I want to hear your words,” he spoke a little more assertively this time, before swiping  his tongue along one of the tubular lines that spread like veins across your wings.

“Yes..” You huffed, before another moan slipped past your lips breathlessly. “It feels good Az…” You felt your body heat, your cheeks for sure rosy, grateful your mate could only hear not see the reaction he was having on you. 

He chuckled softly then, the vibrations from his lips skirting across your wings making them twitch.

“My sensitive little butterfly, ” the new nickname only made you squirm more, your core growing slick at his predatory attention.

Azriel moved his hand then, the one caught under your left hip, so effortlessly moving down to your core, cupping your wet slit as he licked the pink shiny membrane again. 

“Azriel…” you gasped, but his touch didn’t relent.

You knew this was only the start.

a/n: just some lovely little fluffy mating frenzyness! I just love these two, so I may expand a little more on the wings universe and their relationship if you guys would like to see that! Maybe some domestic bliss, or if there's any scenes you'd like me to write for them or parts of their story you're interested in then I'm happy to explore. Also this was written fairly quickly, so please ignore any typos, I only did a quick little check hehe - Lottie

p.s. also thanks to @thisiskaylin who inspired the nickname! She commented on the wings fic that butterfly would be the perfect nickname and I just had to use it <3

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

[cubeshapedlemon]

Atomic Baby

You, a wastelander are captured by an unfortunate group of men, your knight in dusty leather does more for you than you originally thought he would.

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Cooper Howard/ The Ghoul x f!reader

6.2k words

cw & tags: general smut, piv, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), cannon typical violence, unwanted (implied) sexual advances(not by cooper), brief alcohol use, use of pet names, heavy flirting, cannon typical drug use

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authors note: this is my first fallout fic! im hoping to write more! (check out my pinned post for more info) and my first nsfw one so i hope you enjoy. Tbh there are some moments where he is slightly ooc, just kinder than in cannon but whatever. There is a large possibility that this could become a multi-chapter at some point but it can 100% be read free standing. please reblog if you wish but do not repost or translate anywhere without my permission. anyway thank you! and let me know if you notice any mistakes or something i missed in the tags!

Waking up to three weaselly looking men looming over you with a rather sharp looking hatchet, not the best thing ever. Your little camp seeming to be ransacked already, you glare up. The one who seems to be the leader of their little group ties a rough length of rope to your wrists as the other two rifle through your bag. Hauling you up they force you to start waking.

The scorching hot sun beams down on your shoulders as you walk. The irradiated heat of the wasteland is never forgiving, especially not recently; even at night it’s been like sleeping in an oven.

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Walking, endless walking. It has already been about an hour or so since your capture. The winds picking up, trapping your lungs with dusty red soil. Phlegmy coughs and chortles follow behind you. At least they aren't at your side anymore, for the first half hour or so they would take turns shoulder checking you… or spitting at you… or tripping you… really anything those dirty bastards could think of. At this point their boredom with you is really coming to your advantage.

The greasy men are probably hoping to sell you or your organs for a few caps. Either one, not fantastic. Soil kicks up around you, forceful wind driving you to trudge forward with more effort. Glancing down at your wrists you start to feel some relief, the knot binding your wrists getting looser by the second. The dumb bastards clearly were no eagle scouts, their poor attempt at a knot slowly unfurling as you walk.

Looking forward again you have some hope. A dinghy looking town ahead of you. Walking closer and closer you see something in the town? Someone? Oh thank the lord someone. Maybe there is hope for you after all, I mean just weighing the odds, what are the chances that this random person is also chomping at the bit for some extra caps? Thinking about it now, they probably are. Well, a small chance is better than no chance.

Unraveling the last of the rope you propel yourself forward, running desperately. Your life -quite literally- depends on it. Your captors quickly realize and start chasing after you, you race forward, sights pinned on the figure in front of you.

Stopping yourself just quickly enough, you slam into the figure, making them stumble back slightly. “Now what in the-” the accented baritone voice of the person says. Grasping onto the lapels of his jacket you stare up desperately begging,

“Please help me sir, these guys captured me. I think they're going to sell me or something!”

The man looks up for a moment, staring at the men just a few seconds away before looking back down at you, “What's in it for me doll?” he says, smirking down.

“Just please!” a short chuckle erupts from his chest, placing a hand on your waist he pushes you behind him.

“I gotcha, just stay behind me.” Your captors slow to a stop, attempting to catch their breath; one of the goons is the first to attempt speech through all the heavy breathing.

“Give her back, we found ‘er first.” He says in a whiny tone, clearly not the brightest bulb.

“Now why would I want to do that?”

“Well… uh” he struggles to find the words, dumbly looking to his superior. 

“Well what? Cat got yer’ tongue?”

The ring leader is the next to speak, lips parting in a sneer, revealing a mouth full of rotten teeth. “Finders keepers ghoul. It's rare you see a pretty little thing like her these days… thought we'd sell ‘er. Caps are hard to come by. You understand.”

“Well, I can't deny she is quite the looker,” the ghoul says, looking to his side over at you, eyes grazing over your face before looking up, staring holes through the head of the man in front. “But in terms of the ‘finders keepers’ I'm going to have to dispute that fellas’. You see… i'm not really in the business of sharin’ and she seems to have found me,'' he laughs, hand going to his holster, “so i'm keepin’.”

Between the effort of running and the ghoul's comment your face is quite warm. The tension between him and the men rises every millisecond. Praying that the ghoul is a reliable shot seems to be your only hope as the group gets more irritated by the second. The leader goes to speak again, clearly not taking the hand-on-the-holster hint from the ghoul. 

“I don't think so-” he says, drawing his pistol. The ghoul, already prepared, fires off a shot, beating him to his own, a bullet landing in the man’s shoulder. The leader stumbles, being taken to one knee. The goons caught by surprise go to draw their own guns, before another warning shot fires off, grazing the cheek of one.

Taking the hint, they drop their guns, hands held shakily as they lower to themselves to kneel on the ground. Clearly not wanting to take any chances. The ghoul walks over to the leader, the barrel of his gun pressed into the man's chin, forcing him to look up. The ghoul grins sarcastically.

“Well I know so. Now, why don't you pick your dusty ass up and get you, and your little…” He looks back at the two other men, “fanclub, outta’ here while I take care of that fine piece of ass you so helpfully lead into my arms.” He holsters his gun again, reaching into his pocket for a moment, “Some caps for your troubles.” he says, dropping a few caps on the ground before turning around and walking back to you.

“I- thank you.” you say dumbly, looking up at the ghoul. 

“Don't thank me sweetheart,” he says, scanning your body for injuries. His eyes lock on a laceration on your arm before looking back at you. “Let's get you stitched up now,” he says with a tone you can't quite place. You lift your arm to look at the wound for a moment, must've gotten it at some point during the walk.

Looking back up, the ghoul has already walked past you, most likely expecting you to follow as he heads towards a building a few meters away. Quickly you move to follow him, eager to get away from your former captors.

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You watch awkwardly as he rummages for a needle and thread, finally finding some, he threads the needle, Sitting down on the only chair available. He looks up expectantly with a barely-there smirk.

“Well, come take your seat doll,” he says, patting his thigh. “That there won't stitch itself,” he says nodding to your arm. A heat once again rises to your face as you shuffle over, sitting down on his knee, the wound facing him as your legs are thrown across his lap. You attempt to focus on the wall ahead of you, ignoring the fact that this is the only welcome touch you've had in a while. 

Soon you have something else to focus on as the most definitely not sterile needle pierces your skin. You look over your shoulder at the man, his hat tipped back lazily as he pinches the needle through his thumb and forefinger. A whip stitch quickly binding the laceration. He ties a knot before snapping the extra thread off with a nip of his teeth.

He grasps you at the waist and under your knees, standing, while setting your feet on the ground. “I believe that's all. ‘Should be able to gather enough things here to get you on your way,” he says, walking to the door.

“Wait! Could I come with you? I don't have much, but I could help you in some way... Carry supplies, cook, something,” you say, not ready to be alone quite yet. He gives an almost genuine smile, facing you again. 

“Well I don't find myself in need of a pack mule. I'll be on my way ma'am.” he replies, tipping his hat before walking out, seeming to already have his next location in mind. He walks confidently, out of the town into the infinite desert ahead.

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After gathering a decent amount of supplies in the surrounding buildings you stand in the middle of town absolutely stumped. There is nothing for you in this abandoned town you find yourself in and it's not like you've had the best track record with setting up your own camp recently. 

Wandering around a little more you find yourself where you met your knight in dusty leather. The other men now long gone, you stoop down and collect the things they left. Lucky for you they pretty much dropped everything they had, undoubtedly wanting to get away from the ghoul as quickly as possible.

Picking through their supplies you find that they left their guns and a decent amount of ammo, as you attach the holster to your belt you notice some strange little bottles; about four of them. Tiny cylindrical vials filled with a clear yellow-green liquid. Well, chems are chems you think to yourself, stuffing them inside a first aid kit you found inside one of the buildings.

After nosing around the supplies a bit more you decide you don't want anything else. What to do now…

Well, making your own camp is out of the question for now. You could follow the ghoul, he seems to be a decent survivalist, and the safest person you've interacted with in months. You could stay just behind him, he won't even notice. Just until he passes a more substantial settlement. Or you decide on somewhere else to go.

Deciding on that as a decent course of action, you follow the path marked by his footsteps. The sun is starting to get lower in the sky at this point, it's important to start moving before dusk falls.

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You have been following the ghoul's path for about two days now, trailing behind him. Being just close enough to where you can see when he settles down for the night, taking it as a sign to wind down as well.

As day two starts to end you see him in the distance, he starts to set up his camp for the night so you do too. Two days completely filled with travel can really take a lot out of a person, you soon welcome the sleep that takes you.

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“Well, hello there little lady.” you hear a familiar voice say, spooking you awake. Your eyes open to be greeted by the face of your savior from a few days ago. He's standing over you, eyes boring into yours. “Now what do you think you're doin’. Following me around these past few days, thinkin’ I wouldn't notice.”

“I- I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, I just didn't know where to go… and I figured following behind you would be a safe bet. Just until we passed another settlement! That's all I swear!” You rush to speak, trying to rationalize your thinking to him.

“Is that so? Well I hate to break it to ya’ darlin’ but the next town is about a 3 day walk away,” he informs, standing back to his full height before stepping away. You groan, rubbing your face forcefully in frustration. What the hell are you supposed to do now? Sitting up, you lazily start to collect your things.

Taking your sweet time, you scoot towards where you had placed your pack for the night. Leisurely taking a sip of water and a bite of some jerky you snagged in town. Now you really had to think about what you were going to do. You doubt he would let you continue following him, and clearly he had some 6th sense for this type of thing so secretly doing it isn't in the cards.

“Get yer’ ass up! We're burnin’ daylight out here.” the ghoul yells. Confused, you whip your head around to look at him. He walks towards you. 

“What?” you say stupidly. 

“We need to get a move on,” he states, squatting down to meet your eye level. “If we move at your glacial pace we'll never get there.” he remarks sarcastically. Standing once again he goes to collect the last of his things, yelling to you again, “Now! and I ain't carryin’ any of your shit so don't even think about bitchin’ about it.” 

With a huff, you stand dusting yourself off before grabbing your pack and trailing behind the ghoul.

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The first day of travel was mostly uneventful, walking, walking, and even more… walking. Though you quickly learn that he doesn't talk much. And he walks quite fast. While you were certainly an effective and efficient walker, you were still left in the dust.

One of his large strides was equivalent to about one and a half of yours. Walking behind someone for miles is not exactly the most engaging activity, but it gave you plenty of time to think. And oh boy did your mind have some things to say.

As you walk your mind starts to wander. ‘my view of him from behind wasn't all that bad,’ you think to yourself. ‘He walks with a confidence that would make anyone quake in their boots, including me. Just possibly in a different way.’

By the end of the day you were spent. Sitting down by the fire, the sun finally setting, eating whatever scraps had been left over in your bag. Not exactly the most exciting dinner in the world, but in this day and age boring and uneventful is a blessing.

It's l quite awkward, sitting across from him. He has such an intense gaze. The exquisite hazel of his eyes is something so uncommon, especially for a ghoul. He seems to be doing well for himself, as close as one can be in the wasteland that is. But with that it makes the feeling ever stronger.

The way he bores his eyes into you makes you feel like he can hear everything you have been thinking all day.

Looking at you like you're something to eat.

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The second day seems to be turning into much of the same. Infinitely more walking ahead of you. Though there is something different in the air today, something new that you can't quite place.

As you look past him you hope you can see anything different, anything new. At this point you would celebrate for a tumbleweed. Though there is still much to think about.

You come to realize how little you truly know about your traveling partner. I mean, you met him not even a week ago and now you've committed to a good bit more time with him and you don't even know his name. He hasn't spoken much to you since your journey started, or really at all that you can remember.

What a shame. His voice is something that continues to echo through you. His deep baritone with that saccharine accent. While he doesn't talk much, it really is a treat when he does. When it comes to the short conversations he has with you, you can't help but get giddy at the pet names he calls you. 

Now that you think about it, he doesn't know your name either. Quickening your steps you catch up to walk next to him. Looking up you see him eye you suspiciously. Suddenly feeling a bit insecure you look back down. Who are you to think that he would want to speak with you? Well, what the hell, why not?

“Hey!” you say, attempting to sound casual, failing horribly. Sparing you some embarrassment, he doesn't seem to react at all, eyes directed forward. “I was just wondering, it's probably stupid, you don't have to answer obviously. But uh, you know what? Never mind. Sorry.”

Wow, really smooth. Admitting defeat you slow your pace back to your normal one, starting to fall behind him once again; that is, until a leather-clad hand finds itself on your hip. Rushing you to once again, meet his steps.

“Just spit it out babydoll, if we're gonna’ be stuck together, I suppose you can get a question or two,” he conceded. His hand pulls back to his side, a bit leisurely crossing the small of your back. Not that you were going to complain, a welcome shiver running through you.

“Well, I was going to ask your name.” That seems to have gotten his attention, his head turning so he can fully look at you now. His eyes roving over your face as if looking for a lie. 

“My name? That's what you want to know?”

“I mean… yeah? I just thought if we were traveling together I should know what to call you,” you explain, once again feeling insecure. He turns his head forward once again, an unreadable expression taking over his face. 

“Is that so?” Understanding this to be rhetorical, you stay silent, deciding instead to focus on walking.

Quite soon though, you find yourself stopping. While the sun is getting lower in the sky, normally you would have another hour or so until you would start to settle down. Confused, you turn to ask; He beats you to it.

“There's some decent huntin’ and some clean water 'round here. Stay and set up house.” Wordlessly you nod, placing your bag on the ground. You walk a few meters away, collecting some sticks for a fire as you hear his heavy footfalls go in the opposite direction.

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Just as the sun starts to set, and you finally get a decent fire going you see your partner walking towards you. Some sort of meat that he already seems to have butchered in his hand. 

“Darlin’ would you cook this up,” He says, not really waiting for an answer, handing you the game. “I have got to get off my feet.” He goes and settles down, resting his back against a large rock in the general vicinity of the fire. Rummaging through his bag he grabs out a small vial, identical to the ones you snagged days previously. He attaches it to what looks to be a repurposed Jet inhaler, taking a hit.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Quit your starin’,” he hollers. Taking the hint, you avert your gaze and spear the meat onto an extra stick.

The meat roasts somewhat unevenly but who can complain at this point? While doing the mindless task you can't help but look up at him. Still leaning up against the rock his head is back now, dusty cowboy hat tipped over his eyes. He really is quite handsome. Ghoul's don't exactly get the best rap when it comes to anything, especially looks. You decide that people would change their minds if they met him.

Looking down again towards your work you decide it looks done enough. Separating just over half of it you place it onto a handkerchief, walking it over to him, placing it on his lap. He goes to move his hat back, giving you a nod before you go back to your spot across from him, the heat of his gaze following you.

Sitting down you prepare for another silent dinner. Digging into your food, you hear him clear his throat, causing you to look up. “Cooper,” he says, “Cooper Howard.” You smile, a real genuine smile, giving him your name as well. A small grin finds its way to his face. So subtle you almost missed it. There was truly something in the air today.

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Waking up the following day you feel like shit. Clean water has been pretty sparse causing your head to pound like a drum. Sure there was some clean water near here but even the idea of standing up sounded unappealing. Deciding it’s best to get it over with sooner rather than later you sit up. 

You start to dig through your pack trying to find your canteen with no success. Confused, you look around, still no canteen. “Cooper?” you yell, not seeing him in the immediate vicinity either. 

“What is it, doll?” He yells back, coming into your field of view, strutting as always. 

“Oh thank the gods. For a second I thought you left me behind,” you sigh with relief.

“Now why would I do that?” A sarcastic tone infesting his speech. Rolling your eyes, you speak again. 

“Have you seen my canteen anywhere? I can't find it. Thought I'd refill it with the clean water you were talking about last night,” you add, standing up and dusting yourself off. Cooper responds by reaching into the pocket inside his jacket, pulling out your canteen and shaking it. The sound of fresh water splashing inside.

Unscrewing the cap he walks up to you, so close you two are almost chest to chest. “Drink up,” he says, lifting it, waiting, like he expected something. And who are you to deny his expectations? Lifting your gaze from the container to the depths of his eyes you open your mouth obediently. He rewards you with a slight smirk, tipping the opening towards your lips.

Despite the increasing tension between you, you are genuinely thirsty. You gulp down the water desperately between heaving breaths. Seeing that you had gotten enough, he screws the cap back on, wiping away a leftover drop on your lip with his thumb. 

“Well ain't you just a prize,” he remarks, so quietly you think he didn't mean for you to hear it. With an almost imperceptible smile on his face he steps away, “ You better start gettin’ a move on little lady. If we walk fast enough we can get to town by supper.” You watch for a second as he grabs his bag, throwing it over his shoulder.

Shaking the leftover tension you do the same, the idea of sleeping in a real bed tonight pushing you forward.

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Unfortunately, the heat truly has been overwhelming today. Notably, Cooper has slowed down just enough to match your pace today. Maybe you're truly starting to crack that hard outer shell he keeps himself in.

After about an hour of you fanning yourself, tying your hair up, then taking it down and putting it up in a different way you give up. Deciding that you would rather just be scorched than fiddle with your clothes or hair every fifteen seconds. 

Soon after you come to this decision, Cooper silently lifts his hat off of himself, placing it on your head. The slight shade of the brim gives you some relief from the unending heat. Gratefully, you look up at him, he doesn't seem to think his action is anything of interest. His eyes still facing forward, face still pulled into a permanent scowl.

You look back down, “Thank you,” you say absentmindedly. 

“Don't mention it,” he replies, his tone flat. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you for the rest of your travels. Every once and a while you would sneak an admiring glance or two. A few times you could swear you felt his gaze on you, but of course you have no proof of that.

☆          ☆          ☆

After several hours of travel you and Cooper find yourself in a rather nice little town. Nice for a town in the wasteland, that is, not that you can complain. Looking around you see several amenities, a decent looking saloon, a trading post, and a shabby motel being the ones that catch your eye.

You suspect that Cooper is more relieved than he is letting on, taking a deep breath, he allows himself a moment to take it in. “Come on now, let's get a room,” he says, stealing his hat off of you, placing it on his head once again. Both of you eager, you head to the desk of the motel. 

Not caring to speak to anyone, as you two walk in Cooper silently drops a handful of caps onto the desk, grabbing a random key (and its spare) from the wall with the other hand as he does. You give a respectful nod to the person behind the desk before swiftly following him.

After passing a few rooms, your traveling partner looks down, matching the number on the key to the one on the door. Unlocking it, you are greeted by a could-be-better room. But who has time to complain? It's a place to rest your head and keep out of the elements.

“While all this is nice and all, I need a drink,” Cooper declares, setting down his bag and grabbing some caps out of one of the pouches. 

“Ok, I think I'm going to get myself cleaned up here first, I'll meet you in a few.” making a sound of acknowledgement, Cooper leaves, tossing you the extra key, the sound of the lock clicking into place as the door closes.

Sure there wasn't anything fancy like running water here but they were kind enough to have a bottle of talc and a rag in the bathroom. Gratefully, you clean yourself up as much as you can before heading to the saloon.

☆          ☆          ☆

Walking in, you scan the room. It's packed with all kinds of people, all jabbering on with their own group, all sipping their alcohol of dubious origin, not that you can complain, you're about to do the same thing. Looking around again, closer this time. Looking for a specific ghoul. There he is.

He sat himself at a small booth, a round table in front of him. An empty glass -presumably his own- set atop. His legs are spread lazily, the brim of his hat creating a shadow over his eyes. It truly is despicable how beautiful he is.

Snapping yourself out of what is probably a desperate looking stare, you head over to the bar. You dig out enough caps from your pockets for two of whatever cheap whiskey you could get your hands on. “Two of whatever's cheapest,” you say leaning over the bartop, dropping enough caps for both, plus tip, on the counter. Nodding, the barkeep collects two glasses, pouring with a rather heavy hand, before handing them to you and snatching the caps.

You look over to where Cooper is once more; he's looking at you now, an intense indescribable air around him. You fight to not smirk at the fact that you caught him staring, you grab the drinks and head over to his table, challenging him with your continued eye contact. “Now where have you been all my life?” you hear an unfamiliar whiny voice say. Instantly your mood is ruined, with a scowl you turn towards the voice. It belongs to a plain looking man, a much too confident smirk on his face.

“As far away from you as I could manage,” you quip, rolling your eyes and making your way to your table. Hearing him get up from his chair, following in your direction you turn to face him again. “I'm here with someone don't even try,” you warn, though of course he doesn't take the message. 

“Well I don't see him ‘round here,”

“You sure you don't?” You hear that familiar accented voice say behind you while wrapping his arm around your waist. Cooper stares down the man in front of you. 

“A ghoul?” the man says, looking up towards him briefly before continuing his eye contact with you. “I can fuck you better than a goddamn ghoul I'll promise you that. You make that switch I'll show you a good time,” the man claims, stalking towards you with a dangerous leer on his face.

“Oh, I guarantee you can't,” Cooper gloats, flashing the gun at his side. Without a second thought he grasps your jaw firmly, turning your head to face him and he locks his lips with yours. Taken aback, it takes you a moment to kiss him back, but he quickly deepens the kiss. He runs his tongue on the seam of your lips. You quickly obey, opening your mouth to the welcome intrusion. With how intense the kiss became you couldn't help but let out a whimper, which he rewards with a firm squeeze of your waist.

You separate after what seems like an eternity, Cooper looking at the man in front of you. “Betcha’ believe it now don't ya'?” he smirks, leading you back to the booth. He grabs both of your drinks, setting them down on the table before sitting down. Feeling some confidence after what just transpired, you sit down on his lap, one of his legs settled between yours. Teasing a bit, you shift your hips against his a few times as if settling in.

“You keep doin’ that you're gonna get yourself in trouble,” he warns, grabbing and handing you your drink before shooting back his own. With a smile you lean back, resting against him. 

“I'm ok with trouble,” you tease, taking a sip of your drink. Making a sound of contentment, Cooper runs his hand up your thigh, squeezing as his hand trails close to where you truly need him. You let out an unintentional whine at this, attempting to cover it up with a hefty gulp of your drink.

“Are you know? Well trouble is what I got darlin’,” he claims, bouncing his leg that you are perched on. His thigh rubbing deliciously on you. “Just say the word.” Finding all the sensations to be far too much you give in to his teasing. Rocking your hips back on him again you bring your lips to his neck, kissing up slowly, ending on his jaw. 

“Please.”

Releasing a satisfied groan he gives you a relatively chaste kiss compared to earlier, he adjusts you and sets your feet on the ground, pulling you and him up to stand. “Lead the way pretty girl,” he purrs, delivering a swift smack to your ass as you scramble to get to your room.

☆          ☆          ☆

As soon as the door is closed and locked behind you two, you are forced against a wall. Clearly attempting to keep some sort of control over himself Cooper takes a deep breath. “Darlin’ I'm serious, you ain't gettin’ rid of me after this. You sure you want this? just say so and I’ll leave.” The pathetically desperate look in his eyes makes you even more eager to give him your answer 

“Please Coop, I need you.”

Not needing any further confirmation, he once again locks his lips with yours. Opening your mouth right away, the kiss deepens quickly, both of you desperate to get a taste of each other. Cooper rips off his leather gloves, needing to feel you on him directly. That still not being enough, he paws at your top roughly, pushing it up. Parting for a moment he pulls it over your head, unclasping and removing your bra just after.

“Well ain't you the prettiest little thing,” he breathes, running his hands up your body to cup your tits. Stooping down, he sucks a dark bruise into the side of one, looking satisfied with himself as he does so. 

“Coop,” you whine, starving for more. He falls completely to his knees now, delicately taking off your boots, eye contact steady. 

He next moves to unbutton your jeans. He moves frustratingly slow, clearly enjoying your huffs of annoyance. Pulling off your pants and underwear in one, he grabs your hips harshly, pushing them into the wall. Without delay, he places your thighs over his shoulders, diving into your core like it's his last meal. He runs his tongue from your entrance to your clit, sucking it into his mouth harshly before releasing. Desperate for more, he plunges his tongue inside you once again.

The sudden intrusion forces a deep groan out of you. In need of a perch, you wrap your hand harshly around the back of his neck, knocking his hat off in the process. “You are just about the sweetest thing I've ever tasted,” he coos, placing a messy kiss on your inner thigh. 

“Cooper, please. I need you,” you beg, desiring everything he can give you.

“Well I can't say no to that, can I?” he jokes, wrapping your legs around him as he stands. Holding you by your waist he makes his way to the bed. He swiftly tosses you atop, you bounce slightly, watching as he stalks towards you with an indescribable hunger. The heat of his stare intense, you desperately clench around nothing. 

Kneeling on the bed now, Cooper runs his fingers through your folds, your wetness coating them. Slowly, he works a single finger inside of you, thrusting it in and out. “Fuck- Coop,” you moan, blinded by pleasure. He works another finger in, continuing the same pace, curling his fingers to hit that perfect spot every time. Working you open, preparing you for what was next.

“Good girl, so desperate for me, just a bitch in heat.” Lacking the proper brain function to respond, you whimper at his comment. Your eyes rolling back in pleasure. “Oh you like that don't you? You like being my needy little thing. The little slut I get to use.” his pace increases, fingers rubbing immaculately inside of you. The low buzz at the bottom of your stomach beginning to bloom, your hips unconsciously bucking down to meet his thrusts. 

“Please, please please,” you beg, not quite knowing what you're begging for.

“I gotcha’ doll. Let go,” he assures, moving his thumb to rub quick circles on your clit. As if commanded, you let go right away. The pressure inside of you bursting with a moan, hips bucking wildly out of your control. Clenching desperately around his fingers. “That's it… that's my girl.” Your body comes down after a few seconds more, thighs twitching with the residual energy. Cooper delicately removes his fingers from you, a small whimper of overstimulation coming from you.

Placing them in his mouth, he laps up any of you he can get. “Sweet as honey, you are,” he teases. Letting out a breathy laugh at his comment, you fist your hand on his collar, pulling him in. The kiss is passionate, tasting yourself on him only spurs you on further. Your other hand trails down his body, finding the tent in his pants you give a teasing rub. His hips stutter forward briefly, making you smile into the kiss.

Your nimble fingers undo the button on his pants, the zipper following. Breaking the kiss you look up at him, silently asking for permission. Giving you a short nod, Cooper further pushes himself into you, bordering on grinding at this point. With a grin you take him out of his pants. You give a few experimental tugs, feeling the weight of him in your palm. His hips stutter again, “You better quit your teasin’ ‘fore I make you.” As enticing as that sounds, you listen. You rub him against you a few times before lining him up with your entrance.

Slowly, he starts to push in, your heat inviting him in. “F-fuck,” he whimpers, pausing for a moment. “I'm sorry baby, you just feel so good.” Pushing in farther, he bottoms out. He grinds into you, desperate to get as deep as he can. 

“Please, Coop, please move,” you whimper out. 

“You are so pretty when you beg. You will be the death of me darlin’,” he says, pulling out about halfway before slamming back in. He quickly sets a brutal pace, hips slamming into you quickly and harshly. The low buzz in your stomach quickly returns, every ridge of him rubbing deliciously inside of you. It's not long before you become a puddle of whines and moans, the low buzz bursting once more, stars exploding behind your vision.

His pace does not falter, his hips still moving at the same brutal pace. In fact, he finds this the perfect opportunity to start rubbing quick circles on your clit. Anything he can do to get you to go, needy to see it again.

“Come on now, you can do it one more time for me can't you?” not believing it can happen so soon again, you shake your head, pathetic whines falling from your lips. “Yes you can, come on. I'll follow right behind. One more for me, pretty girl,” he assures, his tone starting to sound as whiny as yours. The next one comes up faster than the others, beginning already so close to the precipice.

“Fuck, Coop im going to-”

“I know sweetheart, let go, come for me.” Your body takes that command wholeheartedly, you lock your legs around his hips, forcing him deeper as you fall over your precipice, his pace truly faltering, thrusts now short and sloppy. “Fuck, darlin’ im gonna’,” he attempts to say. 

“I know,” you say between whimpers of his name. Before long he joins you in bliss, filling you to the brim.

He rests his head on your shoulder briefly, pulling out after a moment and righting himself in his clothes. Rolling over onto the bed moments after. Cooper tiredly pulls you against him, not a care in the world at the moment. To be honest you didn't either. The Rad-Away would just have to wait.

[sturnioloshacker]

sex in seattle - a vinnie hacker smut

a/n: requested by anon; lowercase intended 

cw: praise kink, dirty talk, blowjob, sex, orgasm denial, smut. this is an nsfw short, everything written is fictional. interact or don’t interact, i’m not your mother

summary: vinnie is thankful for having sex in his room with you, but not thankful for being caught in the act

the front door of vinnie’s childhood home opens and we’re both greeted by his parents maria and nate with opens arms and big hugs. this year, i’m celebrating thanksgiving with vinnie’s family and friends. It’s always nice to have a bit of a change which is why i’m currently in seattle with the best boyfriend in the entire world and his family and closest friends. we walk in and it feels so cozy, warm and full of love. 

“the turkey is still in the oven so make yourself comfortable, love”, maria warningly says.

“thanks, maria.”

i go to sit next to vinnie but instead i’m pulled by my hips and into his lap. not that i’m complaining though! while everyone is busy preparing the table and setting up the food, vinnie starts to act up. he starts bucking his hips up, the friction becoming too much all of a sudden. 

“vincent, what are you trying to accomplish here?”

“baby, please, i need you now”. he whines softly in my ear.

“bub, we’re here with your family and friends. we can’t just go and have sex like we do back at home in la.”

he whines again as i get up from his lap to go and see if his family needs help with anything. being told that everything is under control, I’m suddenly spun around to face my boyfriend. 

“how about i give you a tour of my room?” he smirks, taking me by the hand and leading me to his room.

this boy i swear to god, always so horny!

he takes me in first before closing the door behind us and pushing me up against it. he quickly follows my movement, capturing my lips in his for a steamy and sensual kiss. little moans and gasps escape my lips as he squeezes my ass and presses his chest against mine, allowing his tongue to explore my mouth and graze my lips. i slowly drop to my knees and i’m level with his growing boner. i press a quick kiss to his clothed dick before hooking my fingers around the waistband, pulling them down to find that he chose to go commando today. good lord. I wrap my hands around his length, giving him a couple of strokes before taking him in my mouth.

“god i love the way you wrap that pretty little mouth around me, princess. so pretty.”

i giggle around his cock, the vibrations sending shivers up his spine. i speed up my movements, making vinnie throw his head back in pleasure, the intensity getting him close to the edge. He grabs my head and pulls me off, his breathing rapid. 

“as much as i wanna cum in your mouth, i would love to cum in that cute little pussy of yours.”

he helps me up from the floor before picking me up and throwing us onto his bed. he presses a quick kiss to my forehead before aligning himself with my entrance. he pushes in all the way, bottoming out once he’s fully inside and making us both moan in pure ecstasy. i quickly adjust and give him the nod of approval for him to start moving. 

“oh vin, that feels so good, please don’t stop.” i moan out.

“not stopping, pretty baby. not until you cum all over my cock.”

i can feel us getting so close. i clench around vinnie’s girth, feeling him twitch against my walls. my heart beats faster and my breathing becomes erratic as i feel the knot rapidly unravelling in my stomach. i cry out as my orgasm washes over me and i cream all over vinnie’s cock. i grind against his cock as i ride out my orgasm, getting him close to the edge. 

“fuck, pretty girl. you’re gonna make me cum so hard.”

“cum inside me, pretty boy. i need to feel you inside me so bad.”

“hey guys, you almost done with the room tour? dinner is read- JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK?!”

vinnie and i both scream in fear as we whip our heads to the open door where his brother reggie stands, mouth wide open and hands in his hair. We quickly cover ourselves with the blankets and sheet underneath us, trying to hide our bodies from the younger brother.

“knock next time, dipshit! how much did you see?” vinnie asks, fear exiting his body. 

“um... just that last bit. fuck, now i’m scarred for life. anyway, dinner’s ready when you two are.”

reggie shuts the door and vinnie turns to look back down at me.

“i just lost my orgasm. shit, i’m sorry baby.”

“it’s okay, bub. i’ll give it to you later on tonight, promise.”

“this is one of the many reasons why i love you so much. happy thanksgiving, my pretty.”

“i love you so much. happy thanksgiving, handsome.”

[xsleepinggoodx]

Mikey x reader short drabble!

timeskip: 19 year old Mikey. Yknow that one Mikey before manila? The one with the short blond hair? That one!🥰

Slight NSFW warning!

………………………………………………………………………………

You and Mikey were in the most heated make out sessions you ever been in. In his garage room, in his bed, on his lap, and door locked. The tension was real. His shirt was off and his veiny arms were around your waist, squeezing every so often. Your hand cupping his cheeks as you both fought for dominance—he wins every time though.

You letting out whimpers every so often as unravels you. Your hips grinding from time to time. You guys done it before, but not really often. You’re busy with college as he is he. He spends time hanging out with Toman, you’re there too ofc, but every so often, you two share intimate stares. He’s drilling his eyes on you when you’re laughing with Baji or Mitsuya. You’re admiring him as he tells a funny story. Again, the tension is there but you guys simply didn’t have alone time together, especially not sexually.

Now you guys finally were able to hang out, alone. Telling him stories from your college as he listens, replying with similar stories, him telling you crazy moments from his fights with Toman. Playing games with him, reading together. But it just got so heated, his loving gaze on you as you read the book and when you finally looked at him back, he pounced.

That’s how it led you guys here, tongues wrapping around each other as saliva drips down your lips. When you final let go for air, panting heavily with your lovesick eyes, he smiles lovingly as he catches his own breath.

“You said you had a bad day?” You asked, tracing his collarbone.

“I already told you about it, I really don’t wanna think about it.” He pouts, already rolling his eyes.

He told you about how annoying this one gang was, the leader trashed his bike terribly. Now it was in Draken’s motor shop in repair, he couldn’t ride it for a week.

“How bout I help you relieve some stress?” You asked innocently. “You always help me…I wanna make you feel good..” you said, your eyes resting. He

He looked confused but then it finally clicked.

“Baby, you don’t have to-“ he started before he got interrupted.

“But I want to, I wanna make you feel good..please~?” You stared at him, with your begging eyes. Oh your eyes, only if you knew how much he adored and admired you.

He nodded slowly. “Please baby, I need you.”

You giggled as you got on top of him, your hips sitting on his. His head looking up at you as you captured his lips again, before trailing your soft lips down his chin, neck, finally his chest. You sat up and clutched the hem of your shirt.

“Do you want me to take it off?” You said, teasingly.

“You really don’t have to.” He said hesitantly.

“Mikey~~” you teased as you giggled.

“Yes please” he begged shamefully. You knew Mikey was good with his words, getting him to beg was always tough, but you knew how to melt him. That’s why he loved you so much, you always challenged him. Which is not something he received often. You smiled as you chucked taking your shirt off, revealing your baby pink bra. The bra stap perfectly falling off your left shoulder.

You smiled as he admired your face, then his eyes traveled down, admiring your goddess-like body. He always knew he hit the jackpot, but now it’s official. He couldn’t help himself as he rose up and kissed you, trailing down your chin, then to your neck. Leaving hickies behind. You let out a soft hum as he continues, nipping your sweet spot, his hands where they were once on your waist were now softly cupping your breast.

He grinds his hips on yours, earning whimpers from you.

“Fuck, I love you so much, baby” he said, his voice muffled from his attacks on your cleavage. You softly scratched your fingers through his messy golden hair. Rewarding yourself with his kisses.

“I l-love you too~” you said. Love honeyed your voice. You were definitely down bad for him. The best part is that so was he….

…………………………………………………………………………….

Enjoy everyone, sorry I didn’t go all the way. I’m not confident in my NSFW writing skills🫣

[mondaymelon]

— “𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞…” ♡

໒꒱ || :feat~ xiao, kazuha, heizou, wanderer x gn!reader:

໒꒱ || cw: fluff <3 modern!au, the two of you live together, established relationship, wanderer has anger issues, reader needs an oscar !!

⤷ jokingly ignoring your anemo boyfriend ♡

“...Did I do something not to your liking?”

XIAO’s frantic, even if it doesn’t show on his displeased expression. And his worries aren’t without reason - you’ve been ignoring his presence since he came home from an outing this afternoon. It’s already evening, yet you still haven’t uttered a word to him, only occasionally sending him complicated glances that he can’t even begin to unravel. He knows your heart well, that much is true, yet right now his senses have been cast into an abyss of confusion.

You cast him a sideways look. “No, nothing.” Even as the male visibly brightens at the fact that you’ve finally acknowledged him, you still seem as offset as before. It’s rather laughable how this entire matter is bringing him back to when the two of you first met, when he still acted so bristlingly cold to you, and how your warm disposition had melted that away… the light scowl on your face proved to serve that he had made a mistake.

What kind of mistake? Perhaps he’d never know. Xiao thought that he had been acting well recently, hadn’t lashed out with his sharp tongue or started a dispute with a particularly foolish person, yet perhaps he had slipped without his knowledge, and you had been there as his silent witness.

“Nothing? If I’ve done anything to upset you, please, tell me what it was.” 

“I said it’s nothing.”

The frown on his face only deepens. Were you testing him? “If I hadn’t done anything wrong, then why won’t you look at me?” You only remain silent, and while Xiao isn’t hurt, the adeptus is utterly clueless about what to do in a situation like this. His voice grows soft, leaning closer to you and staring into your eyes even as you evade his.

“Please look at me, love.”

It’s hard to utter those words, especially when his instincts are failing him, yet the male jolts as you let out a laugh.

“Ahahaa- Xiao, what are you- Aha-!” You stop for a breath, still laughing quietly. Great, now Xiao is even more confused. Why were you laughing? Was it because of him? Either way, he’s just glad that he’s rid the scowl on your face.

“I’m sorry, but… just what do you mean?”

“Nonono, I’m the one who should be apologizing.” You shake your head slightly, smiling. “I thought it’d be funny to prank you, but I didn’t expect it to be that effective…”

Xiao blinks. “So…”

“It was a joke.”

“Ah. Is that so? However…”

You blink, and you can feel his presence behind you, his whisper tickling your ears as he speaks. His voice is low, a near growl as his sturdy arms pull you closer. “That lost time. When you evaded my gaze and affection.”

“You better make it up to me.” ♡

“Are you sure you’re alright, dearest?”

You can see the sincere concern reflected in KAZUHA’s crimson eyes. He’s keeping his distance, yet he knows something is off, and it makes him unreasonably uneasy. The way you’re acting now isn’t something he hasn’t seen before. Kazuha’s been through much, and he knows what hurt looks like. It’s hard to stay silent, but he knows that he won’t be able to reach you at the moment. Sometimes, walls that were put up could only lower over time.

“I’m fine.” As if that were true - then why was your voice so cold? The male’s heart aches as he watches you disappear into your room, the door closing shut behind you. Ah, even writing a poem wouldn’t be able to capture his feelings right now. Kazuha wants to take you in his arms, to embrace you, to hold you tight as he whispers to you that everything will be okay. Yet even for the person who understands you best, he knows that what you need is rest, not whatever else he could provide.

He sits in front of your door, his head leaning against the wood. He’ll wait until you’re ready to talk to him, even if that time wouldn’t come soon. It’s silent, that is, until he hears a faint sound. Laughter? His face visibly brightens, only to grow confused as he hears the words, “Holy shit, I am one very good actor-”

He calls out your name, a stunned expression appearing on his face as your door swings open, your surprised eyes meeting his. “Ah, were you lurking there?” There’s a visible grin on your face as you let out a little laugh. “I should’ve expected that much, you wouldn’t simply brush away the incident like that, would you? Ah, to think the prank would be found out so easily…” You let out a playful sigh.

“Wh- What is… all of this?” His expression is one of distant amazement, crimson eyes wide as he glances at your beaming self. Sure, he knew that your disposition was often teasing, but to go this far…? He lets out a good-natured laugh at your antics, a warm smile gracing his lips. He’s not upset - he can’t be, not when he’s glad that you’re able to laugh like this without hindrance. “It’s always something with you, isn’t it?” He chuckles, drawing closer and leaving a light peck on your forehead, sweeping away your hair with a soft touch. “Hm, but this is rather unfair, isn’t it?”

His eyes adopt a sense of contentment as he watches your expression grow perplexed. “Huh?”

“To play such a cruel trick on me, without second regard… no matter.”

“You’ll just have to make it up to me, dearest.” ♡

“Huh? What’s up with you today??”

The moment you avoid his all-knowing gaze, HEIZOU’s already thinking up of every possibility. Someone annoying at work? He had heard you complaining about obnoxious commissioners far longer than he cared to remember. Or maybe someone had taken one of your bounties, and now you were at a loss of mora? Or perhaps the person in question was someone different entirely… himself.

“Nothing.” Your reply is short as you merely give him a quick glance as you step through the door. It’s apparent that you’re trying to weasel out of his sight as soon as possible, with the way you’re frantically undoing your shoes without so much of another word.

But he certainly hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? No, of course not. How could you possibly find an annoyance in his ever-charming smile? Ah, but then again, it’s not unreasonable for the person at fault to be none other than himself, but with the way your eyes hold just the slightest shred of mischief… oh. Oh. Ahaha, you’re proving to be rather amusing, aren’t you? To think you’d dare pull such a slight on someone like him… a half-done case like this is easy to unravel. But no matter, he’ll play along, just for his own entertainment.

“Awww, love, did I do something wrong?” He blinks his sparkling green eyes up at you, fluttering his lashes. Glittering tears pool at the edges of his eyes. “C’mon, you can tell me what happened…!”

You blink, utterly dumbstruck. “Heizou, what the fuck.”

“D-Don’t avoid me, alright?!” He whines, clinging to your shirt desperately. “I-I don’t want to be alone…!!” His large doe eyes, growing even larger under your gaze, are glossy with tears.

In all honesty, you should’ve expected this. But perhaps a small part of you wanted to believe that Heizou wouldn’t just figure all of it out off the bat… he knows you far too well to nod along with concern.

“Wh-Why aren’t you talking? Do you hate me??” Heizou’s blubbering, close to breaking into tears. Fuck, he was an even better actor than you were, how was this level of satire even possible?? What kind of detective cases is he having to go through if he needs these kinds of skills… you sigh.

“Damn Heizou, you could’ve at least pretended to fall for it.” You huff, sitting down on the couch before shifting to the side to make space for the male. “You’ve gone and ruined my nightly entertainment.”

He blinks at you, then laughs, quickly changing out of his facade. It’s startling, how he’s able to switch characters so easily, almost like he’s taking off one mask and simply putting on another. “I would’ve been a fool to fall for that shoddy performance.”

“A fool? Don’t flatter yourself.” You let out a joking exasperated sigh, leaning into his shoulder with a pout.

“But perhaps I am one?” He hums thoughtfully, ruffling his hands through your hair. “After all, you certainly are, and I am your lover, so… what is it they say? Like meets like?”

You puff out your cheeks, face growing red. “Heizou, I’m not a fool!”

He chuckles, eyes twinkling as he grins. “I know. However, I fear the same could not be said about me…” He shrugs his shoulders, sighing dramatically, yet you can hear the impending mischief in his tone.

“Or… perhaps I’m a fool for you? ♡

“Hey, did you just ignore me??”

All you did was brush past him at the doorway, yet WANDERER is already bristling, eyebrows drawn up in a scowl as his gaze burns into your back. “Oh great, so now you aren’t even going to respond to me, are you?? Fun. So funny. I hope you feel proud of yourself, dimwit.” His rage only continues when you remain silent. “What, did I do something wrong? The fuck, answer me!”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” You manage to add a note of sarcasm into your voice, inwardly cheering yourself on at your sheer acting talent. “I’m just tired today. Don’t talk to me.”

His indigo eyes widen at your words. “Hah? Wh-What do I have to do with that? That doesn’t give you the right to-!” He catches himself before he falls into a fit, knowing surely that in the heat of the moment, something would likely be broken and thrown out the window, which had just been fixed last Thursday. He lets out a sigh, one of exasperation. “Why must you be so idiotic?”

He supposed he was the idiotic one to expect a response.

“Alright, I see how it is. We’re going to play this game. Very well.” He confidently strides up next to you and pulls up a chair, watching your pencil draw words about who knows what. Wanderer is someone stubborn, that much is apparent, and he’s not one to back down. And you’ve just presented him with an opportunity to flare that tenacity of his. Of course, he wouldn’t be lying if he hadn’t said that he wasn’t at least the slightest bit concerned about what had happened to you, how could he not? 

Ah, but at the same time, he had threatened everyone in your classes and workplace not to lay a single finger on you, so who would have possibly dared to defy his command? If that was the case… you instinctively flinch, glancing at the male in your peripheral vision, whose eyes have grown cold as the air trembles at his sudden release of bloodlust.

He’s definitely misinterpreting this, isn’t he? You grumble, catching his attention for a brief moment. “Nevermind, I don’t think I can pull this off…”

The blank expression on his face is almost worth the scolding you’ll get after his realization. “...What?”

“You’ve been… pranked?” You give him a sheepish smile. “I thought it would be funny to ignore you for a day, so-”

“You what?” Shit, his bloodlust hasn’t disappeared, just switched recipients. You let out a shaky laugh as he glowers at you, clearly enraged. Ah, you’ve certainly dug yourself into quite a deep hole, haven’t you? But it shouldn’t prove to be a problem…

“Don’t be so mad at me, alright? I just wanted to poke some fun!” You press your lips into his cheek before he can get a word in, smiling against his smooth skin. “Mwah! There, my apology!”

His silence is a terrifying thing, but soon enough his lips move to form words, mumbled out and hard to hear as his cheeks ever so subtly grow red. “...t…en…”

“Huh? Sorry, I couldn’t-”

“Not enough. Kiss me again, and just maybe I’ll forgive you.” ♡

(a/n) wouldn't it be so silly if i posted at least every monday so my blog name would actually make sense. so silly. so unbelievably improbably inconceivably impossibly unthinkably unimaginably silly !!!!

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123

[writer-freak]

Unravel me | Vi x reader

Kinktober week 1 - lingerie, piercings and edging

Words: 1.5 k

Warning: NSFW, reader has a pussy, but no pronouns are mentioned, and also nothing about if reader has breasts, reader wearing lingerie, Vi has nipple piercings, english isn't my first language

A/n: First time writing smut for Vi and I hope I didn't disappoint, I based the nipple piercings on a fanart that I had seen, and I became obsessed. Hope the smut is fine, I am still practicing.

Thank you for reading and Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated and really motivate me to write more <3

The night air was crisp, as Vi led you by the hand through the quiet streets. It had been a long day, but now it was just the two of you. She’d taken you to your favorite place to eat, treating you to a delicious meal. You could still feel the warmth of her arm wrapped around your waist as you strolled together, exchanging soft words and laughter.

“Had a good time tonight?” she asked, her voice low and playful as she gave you a sideways glance.

You nodded, feeling your heart filling with affection. “The best.” Vi’s lips curved into a lopsided smile. “Good. That’s what I was aiming for.” She squeezed your hand, her thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “But, the night is still young.”

You couldn’t help the shy smile that spread across your face as you glanced up at her. “Yes, it is.”

By the time you both got home, the anticipation between you was palpable. You excused yourself to the bedroom, telling Vi to wait in the living room for a surprise. Her curious gaze followed you, but she complied, settling on the couch legs spread with an amused expression.

Once inside, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you quickly changed into the lingerie you’d bought just for this occasion. It was delicate, lacey, and accentuated every you liked about your body, making you feel both exposed and empowered. You gave yourself a final glance in the mirror fixing your hair a little, feeling your heart pound in your chest, before stepping out of the bedroom.

Vi looked up as you entered the living room, and her eyes widened in surprise, her mouth falling open slightly. “Holy shit,” she muttered, her voice thick with awe and desire. She stood up, her eyes never leaving you as you slowly walked towards her. “You look… wow.” You smiled, feeling a rush of confidence from her reaction. “Like what you see?” you teased, stopping just a few inches away from her.

“You have no idea,” Vi murmured, reaching out to gently pull you against her. Her hands roamed over the soft fabric, her fingers brushing along the lace as if she were trying to memorize the feel of it. She leaned in, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, her tongue sliding into your mouth as she pulled you even closer.

The kiss quickly grew more passionate, her hands wandering over your body, exploring and caressing every inch of exposed skin. You moaned softly against her lips, feeling the heat between you grow as her hands slid down to cup your ass, pulling you flush against her.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” she murmured against your lips, her voice husky with desire. She kissed you again, more fervently this time, her tongue teasing yours as her hands roamed higher, sliding up to touch your chest through the delicate lace. You gasped, arching into her, your own hands tangling in her hair as you kissed her back just as eagerly.

Slowly, she guided you back towards the couch, her lips never leaving yours as she lowered you down onto the soft cushions. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes dark with desire as she took in the sight of you laid out beneath her, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath.

“So perfect,” she murmured, her voice almost reverent as she leaned down to press a kiss to your throat, then lower, her lips brushing over your collarbone before she dipped down to capture one of your nipples through the lace. You gasped, your back arching off the couch as her teeth grazed the sensitive peak, her tongue flicking out to tease it further.

“Vi…” you breathed, your hands fisting in her hair as she lavished attention on your nipples, her mouth hot and wet against your skin. She moved to the other side, giving it the same attention, her hands slipping under the lace to gently pinch and tease your nipples.

Her mouth moved lower, kissing and nipping at the soft skin of your stomach before she pulled back slightly, her hands sliding down to rest on your thighs. She looked up at you, her eyes blazing with desire. “You want this?” she asked, her voice low and serious as she squeezed your thighs gently.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as you looked down at her. “Please,” you whispered, your voice a breathless plea. “I want you.”

Vi’s eyes darkened, and she leaned in to kiss you again, your hands sliding up to slowly peel off her shirt, revealing the hard lines of her muscles and the glint of her nipple piercings. Your eyes widened slightly as you looked at them, your mouth going dry as you reached out to touch them. No matter how often you see them they always leave you breathless.

She sucked in a sharp breath as your fingers brushed over the sensitive metal, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she looked back at you, her lips quirking up in a small, teasing smile. “You still obsessed with them?” she asked, her voice strained as you continued to explore, your fingers lightly tugging on the piercings.

“Of course I love them,” you murmured, leaning up to capture one in your mouth, your tongue flicking over the hard nub as you tugged on the piercing with your teeth. Vi groaned, her hands tangling in your hair as she held you there, her hips rocking slightly against yours as you continued to tease her.

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me crazy,” she muttered, her voice thick with desire as she pulled you back up to kiss you again, her hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly. She kissed you hard, her teeth nipping at your bottom lip as she slowly, almost teasingly, ground her hips against yours.

You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, the slow, deliberate friction making you whimper into her mouth as you bucked up against her. But just as you were getting lost in the sensation, she pulled back, a wicked smile on her lips as she looked down at you.

“I think I’m gonna take my time with you,” she murmured, her voice a low, seductive purr as she slid a hand down to cup you through the lace, her fingers pressing against your aching clit over the material. “Keeping this on and making you beg for it.”

And that was exactly what she did. For what felt like an eternity, she teased and tormented you, her fingers brushing over your clit in light, feather-soft strokes that made you arch and whimper beneath her, your body trembling with need. Never touching you directly she’d bring you right to the edge, your breath hitching as you felt your orgasm building, only to pull back at the last second, leaving you gasping and begging for release.

“Please, Vi,” you whimpered, your voice shaking as you looked up at her, your eyes pleading as you squirmed beneath her your wetness by now had soaked the couch. “Please, I need you.”

Vi’s eyes softened slightly, and she leaned down to kiss you gently, her fingers slipping under the lace to finally, finally give you what you’d been begging for. Her fingers slid inside you, curling up to find that sweet spot that made you see stars, her thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit as she kissed you deeply, her tongue tangling with yours.

It didn’t take long. The pleasure hit you like a wave, your body trembling as you cried out, your nails digging into her shoulders as you came apart beneath her. Vi didn’t stop, her fingers moving faster, and deeper as she pushed you through your orgasm the squelching echoing in the apartment, as her name spilled from your lips like a prayer.

When you finally came down, your body limp and trembling with aftershocks beneath her, she pulled back slightly, her fingers still inside you as she looked down at you with a soft, almost tender smile admiring her work. “You okay?” she murmured, her voice gentle as she pressed a kiss against your cheek.

You nodded, feeling a lazy smile spread across your lips as you looked up at her, your chest still heaving.

“Better than okay,” you whispered, your voice soft and breathless as you reached up to pull her down for another kiss. “I love you.” Vi’s smile widened, and she kissed you gently, her fingers slipping out of you as she gathered you in her arms, holding you close. “I love you too,” she murmured against your lips, her voice soft and sincere as she held you close.

But before you two could settle down You took off her pants slowly, your fingers grazing her hips as you worked them down, deliberately dragging out the moment. Leaning up, you flicked your tongue over one of her piercings again, feeling her sharp intake of breath before you whispered with a smirk, “Now let’s see if you can keep up.”

Divider by: @anitalenia

[satrs]

ɪ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʙᴏʏ!

ᥲ/ᥒ ꜝꜝ ✎ saw that one edit on tiktok the other day and man... I just have to do this (idk abt the wordcount I just wrote this with my kitty and yeah, This happened)

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ; needy guys and their dom gf!

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ; ISAGI YOICHI. ITOSHI RIN. NAGI SEISHIRO. SHIDOU RYUSEI. dom!fem!reader.

TAGS; subby guysss. dirty talk. thighjob. overstim. nicknames(mommy, baby, good boy, bad boy, whore, brat). bondage. cumming in pants. dry humping.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+(proplayers)!

ISAGI YOICHI.

He was in a fit of complete bliss and tantalizing pleasure, hips stuttering with every stroke through your plush thighs. "I wanna' cum. Pleasepleaseplease let me cum."

You looked up at his vulnerable form, his cheeks dusted in a pink cloud of blush and his hair all over the place, mouth agape with his tongue pocking at his lips. "Please."

Your hand reached up to caress his cheek, cooing at the man above you. "I'm not holding you, go ahead." He let out a sigh in relief, his hips beginning to stutter and falling out of rhythm, head falling forward. "But if you do," His head snapped to your face in shock once you sneaked your hand around his neck to pull him to your level, "I'll ride you until you pass out."

He yelped, so close to his release, trying to contain himself with his eyes shut, biting his lip. "Good job. Just a little more and you'll get to cum." You clenched your thighs around his sensitive cock, robbing another cry of pleasure from him.

A meal flew past his lips at your words because he knew that was a lie. Your teasing smirk was only proof of that.

ITOSHI RIN.

"Say it." His ego was still having the upper hand, way too prideful to submit to you. "You think it's smart to act like a brat now?" Your clothed cunt grinding against his painfully hard cock as he tries his best to not fall into your sinful antics.

"Well, if you're acting all petty, then you won't mind if we stop right here, right?" This made his eyes widen once you slowly retreaded away from him and a low mewl escape his lips, his tongue clicking in defeat as he swallowed his pride, whispering in a low voice. "Please, make me cum."

"That's more like it." The sinister grin on your face showed no good, your hips back on his as you grind more firmly on him, the friction the both of you receive from it pulling moans and groans from you.

"Fuck." Rin's head fell back, nearing his release. "Let me cum inside. Please." The grin on our face only grew, your movements increasing as you felt his cock twitching through the fabric of clothes. "Nuh, uh. Only good boys get to have what they ask for." you leaned down, lips attacking his neck as you let your fangs graze his skin, "But bad boys just take what they get."

Your movements increased, pressure on his cock growing as he panted heavily, your clothed cunt rubbing against him so deliciously that he can't help but cum into his pants with a loud cry, embarrassment soon washing over him.

"Now what boy do you think you are, Rinnie?"

NAGI SEISHIRO.

"Shhh, Sei'. I thought you’d stay quiet? How come you're still so vocal?" Your teasing voice went straight to his dick, aching length twitching in your hold as you tightened your fist right under his tip, capturing the leaking pre with your thumb. "Did you lie to me?"

His eyes snapped open, moans interrupting him from speaking properly. "N-no! You're just- fuckkk teasing." You grinned as you popped his tip into your mouth, tongue twirling around it. "I'm teasing you? You're so mean. I just want to help, and you repay me like this?"

He shook his head in disapproval, moans growing in volume as your movements increased, the other hand fondling his balls. "I-I'm so-sorry. No more, please, don't wanna' cum yet."

"Look! You even got requests now." you mocked him, chuckling as his dick twitched in your hold, first spurts of his cum already leaking from his tip. "You'll take what I fucking give you,"

He unraveled underneath you, moaning mess as you continued stroking his dick, his cum now serving as a lubricant. "Do you understand?"

His thighs shook in overstimulation as he threw his head back, the thought of sleep now fully leaving his mind as he frantically nodded as an answer.

SHIDOU RYUSEI.

His cock twitched alive once you got on his lap, tying up his hands above his head, bottom lip captured between his lip once you aline his angry tip to your entrance, mind spinning once your walls hugged his entire length.

" I can't take it anymore, I need to touch you, baby." You ignored him struggling with the restraints around his wrist, tied to the bed, his hips stuttering up into yours at your torturous slow speed.

You had to bite back a laugh at the young man's pleas, changing your slow bouncing to steady grinding, humming in pleasure at the feeling of his mushroom tip nudging your cervix. "Liar." Your hand harshly took his chin in hand, your rough movements causing a shameless moan to leave his lips, brows wrinkling in pleasure.

His whine was answer enough for you, your hand sneaking down to clasp around his neck. "You love this. Don't lie to me. You love it when I treat you like the bitch in heat you are." Oh, yes, he did.

He loved it. He loved it all. From the way your tender fingers roughly grabbed him by the throat, to the way you would milk him dry until he didn't know what's right and wrong anymore.

"Already too fucked out to answer me, Ryu'?" This snapped him back into reality, eyes appearing from behind his sockets again, panting as sweat formed on his forehead from the way your hips moved on top of him just right.

"Y-yes, love it- fuck! Love it when you're rough with me."

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[yurinaa-world]

Could I request Blade, Welt, and Dan Heng with a who likes drawing and painting them?

"𝓓𝓻𝓪𝔀 𝓶𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓱 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Blade, Welt, & Dan Heng x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who likes drawing and painting them

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling mistakes

💫𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓃 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈"

“Could you at least try to smile?”

Your 10th critique about him. You loved drawing him all the time and now you’ve made him into your subject to draw. But you don’t seem happy at all, squinting at him, in hopes that he listens.

“I’m not smiling.” He groans, refusing your demand—honestly, in your eyes, a smile might fix the only atrocious pose he does all the time—arms crossed, while accompanied by a blank-looking face. “Come on! You would look perfect with a smile on your face!” You rebuked. You didn’t bring out all your best supplies just for a basic sketch of him you do all the time! This has to be perfect!

“Hmph.” 

That meant no…

Then you’ll play dirty yourself. 

“I thought you loved me!!” You began to fake cry and looked away to make him feel bad. “If you loved me enough, you would at least smile for me. I’m only painting the man I love dearly out of my free will and time.” Every word you spoke made him out to be a terrible person, and until your last breath, he did not hear the end of it.

“Fine…” 

He had enough of your anger directed towards him, as he sighed, the ends of his lips shakily spreading wide and revealing an ugly and awkward-looking smile—which makes him look like you’ve got him at gunpoint— “Uh, forget I said that, you don’t have to smile,” those words alone leave him instantly frowning and glaring at you.

“I was just joking earlier!”

💫𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒩𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈"

“Are you going to line those sketches?”

You jump the second you hear his voice from behind you, a bit flustered, closing it and pressing your sketchbook right against your chest to hide the drawings of him, though it’s clear he’s already seen it. “Well…Well, I'm not sure yet.” you sputtered, watching him sit beside you while you were embarrassed by the fact he saw your sketches of him.

“Could I see them? Your sketches look beautiful from a distance, you want me to see them, that is.” 

“Uh…” Gazing back at his hopeful eyes while he awaited your answers. It wouldn't be harmful to show him, since already seen everything.

“Uh, sure, they aren’t that good though.” 

Shakily handing him your sketchbook in his, his hands flipping through the pages while looking at every one of your drawings with a distinct eye. It feels like an inspector is looking through them (if you’re being truthful). Watching his expression every time he flipped through a page; nervousness pools its way into your stomach.

“These are incredible, you’ve left me speechless.” Even the way you drew him; made him look far better than he does in person. The way you draw, each pencil stroke having its place when during a messy sketch, your hands are truly gifts.

💫𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔 "𝐼𝓂𝒷𝒾𝒷𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇 𝐿𝓊𝓃𝒶𝑒"

He could feel the tips of his ears go red as he awkwardly posed for your painting. Your detailed gaze looked at him; it felt like you were looking through him. You could even get up to capture a certain detail on his clothes.

Please don't notice. Please don't notice. Please don't notice.

He keeps repeating that phrase in his head. Your fine eyes looking up at him make him freeze even more. You make him feel so see-through as if you were trying to unravel his deepest secrets.

“Dan Heng, inch your head up a little.” you move away from your canvas to look at him, signalling with the tip of your paintbrush in your hands, yet you frown at him when he inches his head a bit too high up, which makes him freeze up—unsure where to move his head.

“A little down,” 

“No, no, that too downwards,”

“Now you're too high again, wait a second.” You sigh, putting down your paintbrush and pallet somewhere off the side, before quickly reaching to his side, gently cupping his chin, and lifting it to your desired height and position. He could feel his sweat dripping down his forehead as you quickly fixed his appearance once again; maybe his ears might go red with the close proximity you have with him.

“There you’re perfect now, Do not keep that position for me please.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[pearl-nouveau]

A Woman's Purpose - Cregan Stark x Reader [chapter two]

summary: After your grandsire's death, you fly to Winterfell with Jacaerys and find yourself nervous to treat with Cregan years after your heated moment together.

warnings: none i think

a/n: short chapter, just felt like a good stopping point. anyone want part three,,,?🤗

The actions of Alicent and her eldest son did not shock me, but they deeply wounded a sense of hope that I hadn't realized was still deep within my soul. I would always remember Cregan praising my kind heart, but sometimes it felt like a curse. I had believed at my core that our family could find it within themselves to forgive, to come together, to support my grandsire's wishes and put a woman on the Iron Throne... I had believed that Alicent had a spine, that Aemond had humility, that Aegon had a heart. And Heleana, my poor, dear aunt whom I considered a close friend - it pained me to think of her caught in the center of such a mess. I longed to see her and I longed to see my mother on her throne. 

I thought back to the dinner we had before leaving for Dragonstone again. We had been merry, since Jaecerys and Lucerys were newly engaged. I was happy for Jace especially since we had talked so often of hoping for happy marriages, and Baela was a wonderful girl who he already adored. It pleased me that there was a possibility for love between the two of them. 

Aegon had drunkenly wandered to my seat and leaned towards my ear. 

"Poor niece... Your only purpose to be married off and still yet to be engaged. You'll be running out of options soon." 

His amusement sickened me and I continued to pick at my food, trying to ignore him, but he continued. 

"If you don't pick you'll end up with some elderly lord with a thumb for a pecker. Best swallow your pride and pick someone to claim you. Can't be your own woman forever, girl." His breath reeked of alcohol. 

Jacaerys had noticed his advances and stood to intervene, only for Aegon to direct his attention towards Baela, which began a whole other mess leading to the night quickly unraveling. 

It had made you think about marriage, not only as a duty, but as a tool. It had always been an important fixture in politics, but after everything that has happened with the throne, I knew that it would be even more urgent for me to take a husband. I lay in my bed at Dragonstone, resting my eyes, considering the current predicament of betrothal.

When it came down to it, there was no one I wanted to imagine myself marrying except for the Northern man who had captured my heart so many years ago. I feared, however, that it was too late. I had already refused him, in a way, one time. In addition, I had humiliated myself with his advances and then fled. He very well may hate me; find me to be a tease, a whore. I shuddered to think about it. 

At that moment, Jacaerys barged into my room. 

"Sister," breathlessly he addressed me, "mother has requested us to go to Winterfell and treat with Cregan Stark." 

There was a hint of a smile on his face, although we both knew the task was serious. I had no immediate response to him, so he elaborated.

"I suggested that you come. I believe you should see him. Besides, it is the perfect excuse to go."

I turned away, suddenly emotional. I wiped at my face. "Perhaps he has already taken a new wife," I shook my head. "We only need one representative of the crown."

"You're coming," He said finally. I realized it was no longer a request, but an order.

"Does mother know?"

He shook his head. "This is for you to figure out. No interferences." I raised an eyebrow at him. "Except for mine, right now. I would hope that if we are to enter the Hell of war we can find at least some happiness within the chaos."

His words made me want to weep, realizing how much he has grown and how much more he will have to in the coming years. How much all my siblings would grow. I feared for the lives of my loved ones. Instinctively, I reached for my brother and pulled him to me. He hugged me back tightly. 

"It'll all be okay, little dragon," his old nickname for me made me chuckle into his shoulder, "tomorrow, we ride for Winterfell."

That night, I dreamt of Cregan. Brief, hazy glimpses of moments we shared in the past. Moments that made me fall in love with him. 

I saw him poised in front of Vermithor, no fear in those stormy eyes, his hand outstretched to stroke my beautiful dragon's scaled face. He had respected the authority of my beast, and Vemithor in turn had leaned into the Lord's touch. That moment had brought heat to my stomach and tugged at my insides. The Bronze Fury was not easy to befriend. 

I saw him across the altar in the sept where I took him on a tour, his head bent in prayer, dark hair framing his face. He had caught my eye and held it, unblinking, keeping it until I looked away.

I saw in the golden hour in the training yard, his gaze finding me between every attack. He moved like ice against his sparring partners: cold, calculated, hardened. No one bested him. When we walked to dinner together afterward, he walked behind me, and I had suddenly felt a tug at my hair. He gently pulled the ribbon holding my braid together - a braid commanded by my mother - letting my hair fall down my back. I like it down like this, he told me, wild and free, like you. 

Morning was unwelcome because it ripped me from the warmth of my dreams with him, but the realization that I was soon to be headed for Winterfell thrilled me. I quickly dressed and packed with my handmaidens before finding Jacaerys in the hallway. He said nothing, grasping my hand and nodding solemnly. We moved to the dragon pit together and prepared Vermax and Vermithor. When we exited the cave, I saw my mother and younger siblings watching on from above. 

"We should say our goodbyes," I told Jacaerys, "the Gods only know when the next time we will all be together is."

Jace nodded, and we joined with the rest of our family. I kissed each of the little ones on the forehead, pinched their cheeks, sniffed their baby skin, making every attempt to remember them as they were in case I was struck from the back of my dragon. Lucerys stood tall when I came to him, like the proud little fighter he was, and I gave him a tight hug and a squeeze of luck for his own journey. I worried for him dearly, but Lucerys was perhaps the most smart and capable of us Valeryen children, even at his young age.

"Good luck, raqiarzy," I spoke into his hair. He was nearly as tall as me at that point. "I shall see you soon."

My mother gazed at me with that look she always wore as I moved to stand in front of her. So diplomatic, so very regal. Sometimes I wished she would soften and just be my mother for a moment. But now, finally involved in diplomacy, who was I to her? Still her daughter, or some cancerous growth jeopardizing her claim?

I felt her arms around me. "Be safe," she whispered into my ear, "I love you, my daughter."

Tears filled my eyes and I hugged her back. I thought about all of our fights about my marriage. Who was I truly fighting? We were both shackled by tradition, still, I realized. Her claim had been an abstract future and now it had all come crashing down. She was still fighting the same battles against men that she believed to have won as a girl my own age. None of our past disagreements mattered now. Happiness and freedom were no longer mine to take for myself; they may be ripped from us all at any moment. 

My mother and I separated and she placed a kiss to my brow. Her stoic demeanor had faded and I could see wetness in her eyes. Jace offered me his arm and I reluctantly took it, turning away from my family and trying not to think about our uncertain future. 

The journey to Winterfell was long and cold, as many journeys on dragonback are, but I was comforted by the presence of Vermax and Jacaerys gliding back and forth below me. Our dragons, very different in size, flew quite differently. Vermax was nimble and slight, disappearing between clouds and darting in and out of sight easily. A formidable stealth opponent. Vermithor, on the other hand, was enormous and flew with simple, powerful strokes of his golden wings. He was fearsome, and I found him to be the most beautiful creature in the world. As terrifying as he was, our bond was strong. He never raised a tone at me; he grumbled and purred in my presence only, and awaited orders with undying loyalty. He had been my dragon since the time I was ten and four, and our relationship only strengthened by the day. 

The sky greyed as we flew further North and the air began to chill. I shivered not only from the cold but the impending reunion I was to have with Cregan. I had no idea what to expect. I had considered opening his letter but it was still too frightening to me. It left me even more unprepared for a conversation with him. 

When we reached Winterfell, Jacaerys and I circled Vermax and Vermithor a few times to signal our landing. We made no sudden moves towards the castle and its surrounding fortress, and landed in an isolated field. The wind whipped my long hair out from the veil I had tied around my head. It floated around my head like a halo as I squinted in the heatless sunlight. 

"Someone rides this way," Jacaerys called from the back of Vermax. He began to disembark and I glanced over to where he looked. A rider on a black horse, eighteen hands tall, came galloping towards our dragons. Vermithor let out a roar of distaste. He didn't like people coming near him - or me. I calmed him with coos in High Valerian and began to slide down his wing. The rider had stopped next to Jace and gotten off the horse.

As I crept closer, I knew it was Cregan. His stature was unmistakable. Tall and dominating against the bleak horizon in his furs. Gods, I had never seen him in his heavy Northern furs. It made me want to crawl within them, to feel the heat of his body around me. Coming closer, I saw him clap Jace on the shoulder with familiarity, and then turn his gaze to me. With no hesitation, he came towards me. I saw behind him Jace getting onto his horse, the ghost of a brotherly smirk on his face, and kicking the horse forward towards Winterfell. 

"What-" I began to question as Cregan came within arm's length of me, unable to finish as he pulled me to his chest in a tight hug. The furs were just as warm as they looked, and I melted into his arms. It had been so long since I smelled him. Like sap and smoke and ale and somehow roses. My arms snaked under the cloak and I could feel the hardened muscle of his body through his shirt. And then I realized - he was hugging me, as if he missed me, as if...

"I've missed you, my princess." He spoke into my hair. 

"You aren't angry with me?" I breathed into his cloak. He pulled back and took my chin in his calloused fingers, his face laced with confusion.

"How could I ever, my girl? You didn't read my letter?"

I flushed. "I was embarrassed. I thought you would have wanted me to keep quiet after I... lost control like that." He barked out a laugh, which would have made her feel ashamed had he not paired it with a gentle kiss to her cheekbone.

"I'll show you what losing control really is, someday," he kissed her cheek again and hummed. "Darling, I wrote you that letter and apologized for leaving so quickly... had it been up to me I would have stayed until you chose to see me again and asked for your hand right there. I had to get home to my son and my duties here but you have never left my head." Now it was his turn to flush as he recounted the contents of his letter. "I... I had begged you to someday consider me to be your husband if you ever found that marriage was something you wanted. None of my advisors could convince me to take another wife until I knew that there was no chance. I have held out hope for years, I have taken no other lover, and I beg you to end my agony and provide an answer," he dropped to his knee as if his body were giving out on him. "Is there a chance? Someday, that you would allow me to love you as I already do?"

It all became clear to me that my world was soon to fall apart, and standing in front of me was a man who was promising to stand by my side in the worst of times. As my family is torn apart and our power in the realm shattered. A smile crossed my face.

"You mean to tell me that the most eligible Northern Lord has been withholding his services from the ladies of the North, all because a faraway dragon rider was stuck in his dreams?" 

My teasing lilt was enough for him to look up at me and grin, standing to his full height towering over me. He grasped at my waist with one hand and cupped my face with the other. 

"They've been left wanting, I suppose." My Lord Stark said contemplatively. 

"As have ladies in the South." I told him, surprised by my own boldness and pleased by the delivery. 

He wasted no more time in capturing my lips, kissing me as if he were starved. He kept taking breaths to stare at me before continuing. His lips moved lovingly across my neck, my jaw, my throat, hungry to taste every inch of skin. After a while, I pressed against his chest and examined his face. It was even more beautiful up close than I remembered. His face an oval with hardened edges. Strong brows and thick pink lips that I was free to kiss. His hair pulled back haphazardly to keep from blowing in the wind. He kissed me one more time, this one softer than baby's breath, and held my head in one of his strong hands before nodding towards Winterfell in the distance.

"I let Jacaerys take my steed so we might walk together." He gestured back to the dragons. "Whatever they eat I will have brought to them."

"They'll eat anything. Even you," I poked his chest. 

"You just tell me if Vermithor ever starts feeling jealous. I shall begin to steer clear." 

We walked together, slowly, catching up after the last couple of years. I asked of his son and he told me that Rickon was nearly three years old. He stopped me for a moment. "I've already an heir. If we wed, I shall not force you to bear my children. You will never be just the mother of my children. You will be my wife." 

I smiled at that, saying nothing. Children hadn't crossed my mind. I supposed I was not ready to think about it. The way he spoke so definitely about our marriage gave me pause. 

"Cregan, I-" my words faltered, but I persisted. "I think you ought to know that I didn't come here just to see you." 

He chuckled. "I figured as such when you brought your brother and two dragons."

I blushed. "We need you and your army to stand by my mother. My uncle has taken her throne. My grandsire's crown was scarcely off his head before Aegon took it. My mother raises an army to stand against him. I am not a bargaining tool, I will not marry you for an army-"

"-I would never presume to trade you like an animal. The North will see your mother, the rightful queen, on her throne, you have my word. I want to marry you because I fell in love with you in King's Landing those years ago, and I wish for you to be free as you want to be. If marrying me is not how you will find your freedom, I will accept your answer." The concept seemed to pain him. 

Would marriage truly shackle me? Being with Cregan felt like being on dragonback for the first time. It felt like gliding over a lake of glass water, your arms outstretched. I had fought and fought for so many years to be free, but free from what? I now saw in front of me a new kind of freedom, away from the clawing hands that surrounded the crown always. I saw a man who chose me and respected my happiness. I looked around at the rolling hills and distant mountains. The cool wind on my face. Bustling people entering and exiting the gates of Winterfell. Perhaps I imagined it, but I heard laughter. Children. I closed my eyes for a moment and felt peace.

I opened them again to see the hopeful face of Cregan Stark awaiting my words. If what he said was true, would he remain here in front of me for the rest of my life, always waiting to grant my next wish?

I smiled. Reached out to him. Snaked my hands around his neck, brought his face close to mine. 

"I choose me," I told him quietly. "So, I choose you."

We sealed the betrothal with a kiss. 

[hheaven-sentt]

devotion

summary: because love doesn't quite capture it | leon kennedy x partner!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: depictions of injuries, angst if you squint, mentions of alcohol consumption, yearning, mutual pining, partners to friends to lovers

notes: BACK FROM THE DEAD W A VENGEANCE. my semester has finished and my second one doesn't start until january so i will be posting for once. college is kicking my ass like all the time so it puts everything else on pause for me anyway ily all | ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dress feels itchy against your skin. You don’t want to go to this event, so you can’t imagine how Leon feels. He doesn’t even like when you thank him for doing the dishes, so you wonder how he might behave up on a stage to receive a medal. You stretch behind you, reaching for the zipper. Wordlessly, Leon turns to you and zips it up himself. Of course he does; that’s just Leon.

“This is weird,” he says. It’s barely a whisper, breath dusting over your shoulder as he says it. You nod with a sigh.

“I wouldn’t say weird,” you return. You watch his eyes in the mirror. They hover somewhere on your forehead. “Not normal, but not weird,” “I think it’s weird,” he says, and steps away. You nod again, because what else can you say?

Working with Leon has its ups and downs. He’s too quiet some days, and you have to fill in the gaps yourself. Or he’s too loud–sometimes without even saying anything–and you have to figure out how to deal with it. Or he’s just Leon; he laughs and jokes, he helps cook dinner, he doesn’t talk about work. You like those days the best. Had you seen these versions of Leon when you were assigned to him almost ten years ago, you would’ve laughed. Ten years ago, you couldn’t imagine being this close to someone, to care as much as you do about someone you’re paid to be around.

You suppose there’s layers to it, layers you haven’t fully unraveled yet. You know only a few things for certain: Leon is your partner, he is also your unofficial roommate, and you care about him more than you care about others.

“Are you ready?” he asks. He’s standing in the doorway of the bedroom, the light from the hallway making him look like an angel descending to relay a message from God. You swallow and nod.

“Just need my shoes,” you say, moving to the bed and sliding your shoes across the floor to be in front of you. Leon bends down without a word to help you fasten them.

When he looks up at you, he looks less like your partner and more like someone you’re meant to love. An ache resonates within you, a need to reach out a brush your fingers through his darkened hair. He shifts his gaze to your upper arm. Gingerly, he runs the tips of his fingers over a scar that spans from your elbow to your clavicle. It’s ugly and red, courtesy of the nasty burn you’d sustained there a few years ago. The ridged skin is unfeeling as Leon skirts his hand across it, tracing it from your elbow to your shoulder.

“I remember when you got this,” he says absently. His fingers dance across your skin, and you wish the scar didn’t run so deep so you could feel his ministrations. “Thought I’d lost you,”

He says nothing more, just stands up and offers his hand to you to help you off the bed. You take it, and he hauls you up with ease. He twists out of the room like a ghost. You follow him, like you always do.

The scar is one of a few you’ve come to own. You remember the day you got it, too. For whatever reason, you replay the moment in your head over and over in the taxi on the way to the gala. It makes your skin burn.

It was supposed to be a normal day, a normal mission. Go in, extract, get out. Three simple steps that you had done a hundred thousand times before. Leon stood beside you, always offering to enter a room first. You’ll admit, years removed from the situation, you should’ve been more careful, should’ve listened to what he was saying. But you were so angry at him. You felt weak, unnecessary. You remember shoving past him and through a door you hadn’t known was connected to a trigger. Almost as soon as your boot touched the concrete on the other side of the threshold, your hearing went out. It felt like you were standing miles away from a nuclear blast, and you had felt the effects of the delayed shockwave. You were knocked to the ground in an instant, but you didn’t feel pain–not yet at least. When you woke up in the hospital a day later, Leon was asleep in the chair beside you.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he’d said. You vowed not to.

“Do you think they’ll at least have an open bar?” he says now, drawing you back into the world. You turn away from the window of the cab to look at him. He’s staring at his hands, forcing a small smile.

“They better,” you say, reaching over and settling a hand on his shoulder. He looks at you. “It’s the only reason I’m going,”

This turns his smile genuine, and he even offers an eyeroll. You squeeze his shoulder, bracelets jingling with the motion. His eyes are on you, and you feel as hot as fresh sin. You hate this; hate that he makes you feel this way, hate that he is so beautiful, hate that you can’t seem to shake this deep seated love you harbor for him. You miss him when he looks away and you remove your hand.

The gala is overwhelming. Leon stays near you, hand hovering near your own. You wish he would reach out and take it. You debate the consequences of doing it yourself.

Breath hot on the shell of your ear, Leon whispers, “You think our taxes went into this?”

You suppress a laugh, tightening your lips into a thin line to fight a smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised, but I’ll pretend like this was all donated,”

“You can consider taxes a donation if you really think about it,” he says, gliding across the floor with you toward an empty table. You snort.

“I think that depends on what your definition of donation is,” you say. He pulls out your chair for you before pushing it in, then takes his own seat beside you. His legs are angled toward you like he only plans on talking to you.

“I think you underestimate my ability to bend definitions to suit my needs,” he says. You laugh again.

You like this version of Leon, and you know that it won’t last very long so you should hold onto it while it’s here. An old jazz song rings out from the speakers across the hall, and the lights catch his eyes just right. They’re really blue, as true blue as blue gets. They’re your favorite shade of blue. If you could paint your living room that color, you would. It’s a soft blue, like the crest of a wave blue, like the sky just after dawn blue, like two perfect oceans set into his skull. There’s a hairline scar that runs between the crows feet of his left eye, one you ache to reach out and trace.

That’s the best way to describe how you feel when you look at Leon: aching. It’s desperation, an aching need to touch and hold. It’s not exactly love, but you don’t have another word for it. Maybe devotion? Looking at him feels like the first time a child sees a kitten. You’re like me, soft and lovable, and we should stay together.

“Have you listened to anything I’ve said in the last few minutes?” Leon asks, putting a hand on your knee that brings you back to the gala. You suck in a breath and shake your head. He smiles wide. “Quit staring at me, makes me feel like I’ve got something on my face,”

“You’re pretty,” you say before you can stop yourself. Maybe pretty is the wrong word, but you don’t know what the right one would be. He’s handsome, sure, but handsome doesn’t encapsulate the way his lashes flutter against his cheekbones or the way he blushes when you smile at him. “Sorry,”

He’s grinning now, giving your knee a squeeze. “You flatter me,”

An hour later, and he’s being called up on stage by your director, who intends to decorate him. You’re beaming with pride, even though you know Leon is dreading this moment. He stumbles across the stage. Cameras are flashing, and you can almost see Leon cringe between photos. He’s off the stage a few minutes later, heading straight for you. You grin more, knowing that he’s choosing to seek solace in you, in your company. He wraps you in a stiff hug that loosens as it endures. You laugh into his shoulder.

“Don’t let me do anything heroic ever again,” he mumbles, burying his face into your neck. You bark a laugh.

“Yeah, okay,” you agree. “I’ll make sure to step in next time,”

In an act that surprises you, Leon tugs you toward the dance floor. You must look wildly confused because he explains, “Just this once. Just one dance,”

You agree, not that you could deny even if you wanted to. He’s looking at you like you’re someone he’s meant to love, like you’re more than just his partner. His hand slots against the curve of your waist like it was made specifically to be there. He’s warm and smiling, and you think maybe he’s had a bit too much champagne. But you like him like this. Who knows when you’ll see him like this again? You stare at him, intent to memorize his features and the way the light catches on the bridge of his nose.

“You’re staring again,” he whispers. You smile sheepishly.

“Never seen you like this,” you reply. He bows his head to chuckle. “Not sure I’ll ever get the chance to again,”

“I’m sure you will,” he says. “You’re the one who brings it out of me,”

You roll your eyes. “I’m more convinced it’s all the free champagne we’ve been drinking,”

“You can believe whatever you want, sweetness,” he says, spinning you. “I’m telling you the truth,”

You’re both giggly and joking the whole way home. Leon has you wheezing about something you can’t remember as you step into the apartment. Tears rest at the corners of your eyes. You shove him playfully. He follows you from room to room like a puppy, making you giggle and flash a smile as you clean up for the night.

You crash onto the bed, warm and light from the night, and reach to take off your shoes. Leon stands in the doorway, watching you. The light from the hallway gives him a halo. Your feet ache as you release them from their prisons, and you glance up to see Leon smiling at you. You return it with the cock of one of your brows.

“You’re pretty,” he says by way of explanation. You feel heat snake up your body. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, hair slightly messy from where he’s run his hands through it, and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone. If you weren’t as shy as you are, you’d probably move to touch him.

Instead, you huff a laugh and toss your shoes to the floor. “You flatter me,”

When you stand and begin to move around him, he grabs your elbow. “I mean it,”

Perhaps, in another life, you would see this as a win. The man you’ve spent most of your life following around and yearning for seemingly returns your affections, and you are about to deny him. Admitting it out loud makes it real, makes it mean something. What happens the next time something goes wrong out there? The next time he does something heroic? Everything will be much too real, and much harder to bury. You blink at him, looking at him for what feels like the very first and last time. He’s still Leon; scruffy stubble, blue eyes, and warmth. He’s still Leon, teetering on being your Leon, and you’re not going to let that happen. You, again, are going to deny yourself from what you want.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. You take in a shaky breath. He’s still holding you, but his touch is a ghost on your flesh.

“Leon, I don’t know-”

“You know that one Frank Sinatra song?” he interrupts. You gape at him.

“Why did you ask if you won’t let me answer?” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. He returns his hands to his pockets.

“Predicted where it was going, figured I’d circumvent it,” he admits, the corner of his lips turning upward slightly. “The song he sings with his wife?”

You shrug. “Maybe? What’s your point?”

“I love you,” he says. Your body goes cold. “That could be the stupidest thing I’ve ever said, but I feel like you should know that before you make whatever decision you’re about to make,”

Your face breaks out into a grin, and you laugh in spite of yourself. “I’m sure you’ve said stupider,”

Whatever worry was on Leon’s face dissolves, and a real, full smile splits across his lips. He takes your face in his hands. He holds you delicately, like you’d break under the slightest pressure. To be fair, you feel like glass at the moment–if glass could have legs made of rubber.

“This makes it real,” you say. He swallows. “No going back, no forgetting, no pretending. When something happens, it will be real,”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he whispers. “It’s worked out for us so far,”

You’re not sure who closes the space first, but it matters little after it’s happened. His lips are gentle and giving against your own. Your hands splay against his sides, using his suit jacket to pull him closer. His hands wind into your hair. There’s a desperation behind his movements, one you’re all too familiar with. After what feels like hours, he breaks from you, leaning his forehead against yours. His breathing is labored, you can feel it in his strong chest beneath your hands.

“This is real,” he says.

“We take risks for a living,” you say. He opens his eyes to peek at you through his lashes. “What’s one more right?”

He grins and kisses you again.

[lukolabrainrot]

Part 2. Explanation

In one of the interviews (don’t remember exactly, Vogue one perhaps) they are asked who is most likely to fall in love at first sight and they both point at L, and something similar is stated multiple times throughout the WT in various ways. Now N on the other hand always supports the friends to lovers being the best romantic trope and I think it’s not only because it is her character’s story arc. The way she is talking about a deep connection developing in the course of the friendship being the best way to go about it, implies that she is not someone who jumps into relationships easily. The way they are talking about their first meeting makes me think that it was indeed a love at first sight for L, and attraction at first sight for N. How he talks about this immediate feeling of warmth, the way he describes her dancing that first time, I think he was slowly on his way down. While her first reaction to him was “how tall he is?”(indirect quote), her facial expression makes me think it was not just his hight that captured her attention. Do you see the difference? For him it was a feeling, for her an appearance. And he is not a touchy fella, even with his BRT family cast as close and friendly as they are, usually it is not him who initiates contact, but not with N (who on the contrary is very touchy) even from the earlier moments of filming. “I don’t really do selfies but if you want one we’ll do that,” “l’m not really a hugger. Oh, you want a hug N, as many as you wish.”

Now as I said LOGICALLY, REALISTICALLY we cannot even truly speculate about events or conventions taken/ not taken, had/not had. For all we know they might have never even admitted to anything, to themselves or each other (doubtful but still). And their relationship are entirely platonic (that would make me question so many things about life but who knows). But from the audience point of view I would say biggest shift definitely happened during s3 filming. I want to make it clear that by no means do I wish to imply any kind of infidelity, quite the opposite I am one of those who believe that until WT their relationship never slipped into romance, beyond perhaps certain tension which I think is sipping into what we see on screens (cough* tongue slip *cough). By which point serious relationship were already over, though I truly think they started to unravel sooner, that it was not pretty, and that L was the driving force of it. Why? There was a little movement in adjacent’s SM life which sparked my memories, S posting “my world” giving of vibes of obvious overcompensation? Well during the filming drought of s3, when all Polin fans were feeding of crumbs, someone reposted J’s post of appreciation to L with those words and additional “don’t get to see him a lot this days” (or something of a kind). Undertone is kind of similar, no? And the way she completely wiped him out of her life? Does not really say parting ways amiably to me😬

Yet again we DO NOT KNOW why hbs happened, how 🐜 got in the picture or where their relationship ever stood. But I will only say this, in my eyes it was the public who gave her the label, and as a result importance, not L, not really. All of her little games only make me believe in this more. She was never given permission to imply anything serious from him, a hotel room, a T-shirt, a hand, easily plausible to not be related to him, but posting his face without his consent? Entirely different story. Now as to her traveling with him, again we don’t know the circumstances behind the scene, was she there as a part of a friends group, her and his sister seemed chummy perhaps in some moments it was on hers behalf, or as an easy travel companion, or perhaps they are insanely in love and we are just fools. We DON’T REALLY KNOW anything, we see only what they allow us to see.

And you know what I saw? L was 😍 from the start of WT, his body language pretty much consistent throughout the entire WT. N on the other hand while always affectionate wasn’t as open or obvious until the second half of WT, especially with her 😍, in some of the last interviews she literally has “check out from reality” moments from looking at him. I see their silence as being sooo loud, especially on L part. They themselves stated that denying or commenting is pretty much pointless when it comes to public’s opinion, N said reading certain things online she would have a moment of “this is hurtful, they don’t even know me. THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW ME!!!” WE DON’T EVEN KNOW THEM, and they know that we don’t even know them, and they are right people will always think what people wish to think. (I for one am glad that more and more famous people feel confident enough to stop bending backwards for fans satisfaction. Public’s entitlement to peoples’ privacy is truly outrageous.) And what I see is that the only people whose point of view in this situation should matter are the two people whom we wish happiness. N and L. Look at what they allow us to see and don’t give attention to background dancers that are trying to distract us with flashy costumes from their inability to be in rhythm. To me some watermarks they paint seem like a beginning of a beautiful painting, but we’ll see what comes of it only when they would wish us to. (Not even going to comment on N supposed adjacent, those who believe that side hug is an epitome of romance, and perceive some barely reliable SM based sleuthing as hard core evidence, to each its own)

Again, apologies for dumping this on you. Truly adorable your blog.

Thank you for the kind words Anon, and glad you are here! ❤️️

[kathlare]

you are enough

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: After the Brazilian Grand Prix, Lando finds himself grappling with overwhelming emotions, the weight of expectations, and the challenges of his rising career. In the solitude of his private space, he seeks comfort in the only person who truly understands him, navigating through the turbulence of disappointment and self-doubt with a quiet moment of connection.

Wordcount: 1.7k

Warnings: talk about anxiety, fluff

November 3rd, 2024 - Sao Paulo, Brazil

Lando steps out of the car, visibly frustrated, yanking off his helmet in anger over the disastrous race he just had. The Brazilian Grand Prix was supposed to be the stepping stone to get close to his first championship, but it had unraveled into a nightmare. Every misstep, every error seemed to have compounded, and now, what once felt so close was slipping further from his grasp.

The weight of it all pressed down on him as he walked through the paddock, avoiding eye contact with anyone who might stop him. Reporters lingered at the edge of the McLaren hospitality, their cameras capturing every tense line of his face. He ignored them, muttering a quick “no interviews” to his press officer before disappearing inside.

His private room in the hospitality suite was eerily quiet. He slumped into the chair, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound. His phone buzzed incessantly on the table next to him. Max. His best friend had called eight times now. Messages from Carlos and Oscar flashed across the screen too, all asking the same thing: Are you okay?

But he wasn’t.

He didn’t have the energy to face them, to explain how he felt like he was suffocating under the weight of expectations—his own and everyone else’s. The frustration, the self-doubt, the disappointment all churned together, forming a knot of anxiety in his chest that he couldn’t untangle.

What could he say to them, anyway? That he was scared? That he felt like he’d let himself down? That every mistake on the track echoed in his mind like a drumbeat, relentless and unyielding? He couldn’t.

But there was one person he wanted to talk to.

Amelie.

The thought of her made his chest ache in a different way, softer but no less intense. His phone buzzed again, and this time, it wasn’t a call—it was a text from her.

Ames 💛: I saw the race. Call me when you’re ready, okay? I’m here.

Lando stared at the message for what felt like an eternity. Her words were simple, but they carried a warmth he desperately needed. She didn’t ask if he was okay or push him to talk—she just let him know she was there.

His fingers hovered over the screen before finally hitting the call button.

She picked up on the first ring.

—Hey, Lan,— her voice was soft, soothing, like a balm for his frayed nerves.

Lando didn’t say anything at first. He couldn’t. The lump in his throat grew larger, and the pressure behind his eyes became unbearable. He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, as if that could stop the tears threatening to spill.

—Amelie…— he whispered, his voice cracking.

She didn’t say anything, letting the silence stretch between them, her quiet presence on the other end of the line giving him the space he needed.

And then, the dam broke.

Tears streamed down his face as he let out a shaky breath. He cried in the privacy of his room, the loneliness of the moment finally catching up to him. All the frustration, the anger, the anxiety—it poured out of him in broken sobs.

—I’m sorry,— he choked out. —I didn’t want to… I just—everything went wrong. I screwed up. I let everyone down.—

—No, Lando,— Amelie interrupted gently, her voice steady and reassuring. —You didn’t let anyone down. Not your team, not your fans, not me. You’re allowed to have bad days. This doesn’t define you.—

He clenched his jaw, wiping his face with the back of his hand. —It’s not just a bad day, Ames. This could’ve been it—the championship. And now it’s…— He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

—It’s not over yet,— she reminded him. —And even if it were, it wouldn’t change how proud everyone is of you. How proud I am of you.—

Her words were like a lifeline, pulling him back from the spiral of self-doubt. He didn’t respond right away, just listened to her voice, grounding himself in the steadiness of it.

—You’re so much more than this one race, Lando,— she continued, her tone firm yet kind. —And it’s okay to feel what you’re feeling. You don’t have to push it down. Just… let it out. I’m here.—

Lando clutched the phone tighter, her words sinking into the cracks in his armor. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as he felt the tension in his chest begin to unravel, just a little. Amelie always had a way of breaking through the storm in his mind, her presence—even over the phone—feeling like a safe harbor.

—Max called you, didn’t he?— he asked after a moment, his voice hoarse.

—Him, your mom, Carlos, Oscar… I’ve been on Lando-watch for the past hour,— she admitted, a hint of humor in her tone. —They’re all worried about you. You know they care, right?—

Lando let out a humorless chuckle, dragging a hand through his damp curls. —I know. I just… I couldn’t face them. Not after today. I didn’t want to hear them tell me it’s okay when it’s not.—

—They’re not trying to fix it, Lan. They just want to be there for you. And you don’t have to face them if you’re not ready, but don’t shut them out completely.—

He sighed, the guilt of ignoring their messages adding to the weight on his shoulders. —I didn’t mean to shut them out. I just… I don’t know how to explain what’s going on in my head right now. It’s a mess.—

—Then don’t explain it,— Amelie said simply. —You don’t owe anyone an explanation. Just let them be there for you, even if it’s just sitting in silence. You don’t have to carry this alone.—

The sincerity in her voice made his throat tighten again. He swallowed hard, glancing at the pile of unread messages on his phone. —It’s hard, Ames. The pressure, the expectations… and the hate. It’s everywhere. One bad race, and suddenly everyone’s an expert, telling me I’m not good enough, that I don’t deserve to be here.—

Her tone softened, laced with empathy. —You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not to the fans, not to the media. You’ve already shown what you’re capable of, and the people who matter know that. Let them talk. Their words don’t define you.—

He took a shaky breath, her words a soothing counterpoint to the chaos in his mind. —I wish it were that easy to ignore.—

—I know it’s not. But you’re stronger than you think, Lan. And you’re not alone in this. We’ll get through it together.—

The certainty in her voice was unshakable, and for the first time that day, Lando felt a flicker of hope. He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes as he let her words wash over him.

—You always know what to say,— he murmured.

—That’s because I know you,— she replied softly. —And I love you.—

The corner of his lips twitched upward despite himself. —I love you too.—

For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence between them wasn’t heavy or awkward—it was comforting. Lando could hear her breathing on the other end, steady and calming, and it grounded him in a way nothing else had that day.

—Will you stay on the line?— he asked quietly.

—Of course,— she replied without hesitation

He didn’t need her to say anything more. Just knowing she was there, that she understood, was enough. For the first time since stepping out of the car, Lando felt like he could breathe again. And as he sat there, the chaos of the race and the noise of the outside world faded, leaving only her voice, her presence, and the knowledge that he wasn’t alone.

[grinsgrimmy]

Hi! How are you? I’m new to your blog and I’m loving every second of it! You really captured the male mcs really well and I’m so happy to find you in the community!

I saw your request is open! May I ask if I can request a drabble?

Can you do a drabble of Carcel Escalante from The Broken Ring: This Marriage Will Fail Anyway? Wherein Reader has been shutting out Carcel from her room and it made him anxious, so he sneaks into her room and was surprised to see a portrait of him in a big canvas drawn by Reader? A surprise for his birthday supposedly?

You can decide how will you end it! Again, Thank you so much and have a wonderful time! <3

Ｓ Ｅ Ｃ Ｒ Ｅ Ｔ .

ㅤᯓᡣ𐭩 𝖢𝖠𝖱𝖢𝖤𝖫 𝖤𝖲𝖢𝖠𝖫𝖠𝖭𝖳𝖤 𝗑 𝖠𝖥𝖠𝖡!𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

THE BROKEN RING, THIS MARRIAGE WILL FAIL ANYWAY

๋࣭⭑ֶֶֶָָָ֢֢֢𖹭 oneshot . (1348 words)

sum. you had been shutting yourself in a room, and it made carcel paranoid

ㅤㅤlike carcel? read carcel drabble .

note : thank you for the request and your sweet words, anonie! im doing fine, thanks for asking!! i try my best to make sure the canon characters i wrote are not out of character. however, im going to be honest, i have never read this manhwa before, but i was willing to pick it up for this request and oh my god i was not disappointed. other than that i went over the word limit AGAIN

request drabble have reopened !!

ㅤ⪩⪨ m.list

you had been acting odd lately. 

odd enough for it to worry carcel. 

it had been escalating to two days. Every chance he tried to find you when you were supposedly said to be 'busy', it was simply you locking yourself in a different room within the house.

when asked regarding what you were doing inside of said room, you only responded that it was not his business to know. as much as he wished to argue about it, he did not. 

but your husband, he deathly wished to know what it was. 

it did not help that carcel was an easily jealous— no, a paranoid person.

... but you could not be committing liaison within that room, no? 

of course not. you were never the type to do that anyway. 

it was just a thought. certainly.

then, were you sick and you did not wish to worry him?

this entire ordeal left him restless. 

when carcel dared to ask the servants of the house, they all simply went quiet and refused to answer. hell, even the butler remained quiet about it. 

it did not help that during the night, when you both were to end up sleeping together, you acted as if you had not just locked yourself in a room for the entire afternoon. 

he wished to respect you sincerely, but you were not exactly helping his paranoia either. none of the people in the house was going to ease his anxiety either, for god knows why. 

by the third day, his patience was wearing thin, and so was his beauty sleep. 

every time he closed his eyes, thoughts of what you could possibly be hiding gnawed at him, unraveling all sense of reason. 

the servants' silence only fanned the flames of his paranoia. 

as midnight drew closer and the house had fallen quiet, carcel made his decision. 

sneak into the room you had locked yourself into for three days. 

was it disrespectful of him? certainly, but it was definitely a lot more disrespectful that you never told anything nor said anything to your poor ol' worried and concerned husband that was sulking outside of the door every afternoon like a kicked puppy. 

carcel managed to slipped out of your shared bedroom and quietly headed through the halls of the house until he reached that room. 

he stared at the door for a few seconds, debating whether he should genuinely enter without your permission. it felt as if he was committing a crime. 

carcel's hand hovered over the handle. With a breath held in his chest, he slowly turned the knob of the door. The door easily gave way without resistance, making him debate whether to enter or not.

after a few seconds, he stepped inside. it was dark, save for the faint glow of the moon coming from the window without a curtain. 

carcel immediately noticed a large object near the window. he stepped closer, his eyes adjusting to the low light. 

and he saw it. 

he guessed it was a large canvas on an easel covered by a cloth to hide the painting underneath it. without thinking twice due to his sheer curiosity, he pulled the cloth away to reveal the painting behind it. 

it was unfinished, yet there was a line art that revealed—

his own face. 

captured in delicate yet stunning detail. 

carcel's heart stilled, his eyes glued to the rough sketch lines and the unfinished fine brush strokes of the paint. 

it was him. 

the sight took his breath away. 

from the calm expression to the unfinished paint, every brushstroke speaking of hours of careful observation from you.

carcel could see where you had tried to perfect every feature, wanting to commit every detail of him. a devotion he never realised you had for him. 

you had been painting a portrait of him? 

this entire time? 

that's. so. cute!! 

the realisation melted into a giddish glee within his heart, a blush crept to his cheeks immediately as he giggled to himself. 

his wife is so cute as always. 

while his giddish glee, he noticed a writing that he initially missed by the corner of the canvas. his eyes widened when he read it. 

'happy birthday'. 

just how oblivious could he be? his birthday was a week away, and this was his... gift. his birthday gift. 

damn it, you were too cute for him. 

carcel could feel his heart beating. he was completely flushed, laughing like a lovesick teenager to himself as he admired the artwork.

all the restless hours, the jealous little thoughts, thinking you were sick and all the paranoia— it seemed ridiculous to him now.

you were holed up in this room for days, creating something immaculately sincere and gentle. 

it definitely caught him off guard.

his wonderful, talented, genius of a wife.

he felt like a fool for forgetting that you picked up on painting a few months ago.

with one last lingering look at the painting, he left the room quietly. his heart felt lighter than it had felt in days. 

he managed to slip back into bed, and a gleeful smile spread across his face. he glanced at your sleeping form, blushing red.

placing a gentle kiss on your sleeping self's forehead, he tucked himself to bed, not without tucking you closely to his chest. 

the next morning, you managed to find out that carcel had entered the room. the cloth of the canvas you had once draped over it was on the floor. 

you deduced it was carcel. all of the servants knew that you were making a surprise gift. this had been meant as a surprise.

a heartfelt, intimate gift for his birthday. and now, thanks to his impatience (you did not know you locking yourself in the room was making him paranoid), the secret was spoiled.

frustrated and albeit disappointed, you tracked down carcel. you found him in his bedroom, having a briefing with the butler. “carcel escalante!” you yelled as you barged into his office. 

sensing your anger, which was uncharacteristic of you, carcel sat frozen on his seat— terrified to see why you were angry at him. meanwhile, the butler left the office due to your furious state. 

carcel gave a nervous smile. “what's wrong, dear?” he asked shakily with an unsure expression, sweating. it reminded you of a child that was caught rummaging in the cookie jar.

you placed your hands on your hips. “you went into my art room, didn't you?” narrowing your gaze, you frowned.

you could see the colour drained slightly from his face when his realisation dawned on him. 

oh, right. 

he forgot to drape the cloth over the painting. 

he spent begging on his knees for forgiveness, which you stubbornly did not appeal to.

carcel followed you around like a guilty shadow, imploring for you to show him mercy.

he tried to argue that it was due to you acting so strange, hence forcing him to investigate what happened, but you still refused to forgive him.

when you announced you would not give him the painting as a gift since he ruined the surprise. 

carcel felt his world shattered. he could feel himself wanting to burst into tears. he whined and sulked at your decision.

by the end of the day, he was practically at your feet, giving the best puppy eyes you had ever seen from him.

carcel begged and begged for you to finish the painting and give it to him by his birthday, despite it no longer being a surprise. 

carcel even teared up at the prospect of no longer receiving the very thing you put countless effort and devotion into.

though it was fun, on your end, to witness carcel murmuring every variation of apologies, you did relent and promise you would finish the painting and gift it to him.

that alone made him sprang up with joy again, kissing you all over with glee.

although, he could not promise he would not do it again due to his paranoia, he made sure to forgive you in a different way that night.

・❥・want a hc / oneshot? please consider commissioning in ko-fi !

[goblinontour]

Mister Superstar

we didn’t want each other, we wanted so much more

series masterlist

warnings: smut, phone sex, facetime sex, actual sex, threesome (brief), oral (both), cockwarming-ish (a bit), cheating, alex.

word count: 9.5k

Far away to Los Angeles, 2018

You could see your reflection in the small corner of the screen, but you barely gave it any attention. The little square with your face, your parted lips, flushed cheeks — none of that mattered. It was the bigger picture that had you captivated, to say the least. The rest of the screen, where he was displayed, bathed in the dim light of his room. Barely in focus, but God, that didn’t matter. Every now and then, the camera would wobble, shifting the angle ever so slightly, but each time it stilled, your eyes would find their way back to what mattered. And that sure as hell wasn’t tiny.

It had been going on like this for a while now. Both of you so close, and yet so far from the finish line. Every time one of you seemed on the brink of tipping over, the other would say something. A sharp inhale. A gasp. A word. An interruption. And suddenly, it was back to the start. Again. And again. You weren’t even frustrated by it anymore. Not with him. Not when you both knew that you’d drag it out, let the tension stretch until it felt unbearable, because that was half the fun.

But your body…your body was starting to protest. Your fingers, slick and aching, had been working in steady rhythms that you couldn’t seem to break — back and forth, round and around, pressing and stroking where it felt best. Your muscles were tired, your skin sore from the constant pressure and friction, but every time you thought you might ease up, you’d hear him.

And that sound. Fuck. That sound is why you couldn’t stop.

His angle wasn’t nearly as carefully curated as yours. You had positioned yourself with precision, making sure the frame captured exactly what it needed to — just enough to drive him wild. A glimpse of skin, the motion of your fingers, the rise and fall of your chest. But him? He held the phone loosely in his hand, probably not even caring much about where it pointed, only that it stayed steady enough for you to see. Still, you could make it out, the way his hand moved over his cock, slick with his own spit, the sound of it almost drowned out by the ragged edge to his breathing. The soft, guttural moans that escaped him whenever he lost focus. He wasn’t quiet, not in the slightest.

And you didn’t know what did it for you more — the sight of him, the way his fist glided smoothly along his length, or the low, gravelly moans that interrupted his half-formed sentences. Every few strokes, he’d try to speak, say something to you, but it always came out broken, as if he could barely get the words out before another shiver of pleasure stole his breath.

“Fuck, I-” he’d start, but then a deep groan would tear through his voice, and you’d see him tense, shoulders tightening, head falling back. It was hypnotic, the way his body reacted, how he seemed to unravel just as much as you did.

You couldn’t stop. You wouldn’t.

“Jesus Christ, Alex-” you muttered, your fingers faltering for just a moment as his moan sent a bolt of pleasure through you. The tension in your core was building again, spreading, coiling tighter, and you knew this time it would be impossible to delay the end any longer. Not with him like this. 

He laughed breathlessly, the sound rough and wrecked. “Don’t stop now, love.” His voice was low, shaky. “We’re nearly there.”

You didn’t need any more convincing. You pressed your thumb to the spot that always made you lose it, circling in time with his breathing. His eyes flicked back to the screen, and for a second, his gaze locked with yours. That look — dark, hungry, desperate — was enough for you.

The pressure built to an almost unbearable peak, and then finally, it broke. It stole your breath as you came on your fingers, back arching off the bed, head tipping back. But even in the haze, you still had control over that final sound you let out, the moan you knew would be for him — long, low, and perfectly pitched, deliberate in its effect.

It worked.

On the other side of the screen, you watched him tense. His breath caught in his throat, and then a strained “Fuck-” slipped from his lips as his body jerked. His hand, still wrapped around himself, pumped one, two more times before he completely lost control. His hips bucked forward as he came hard, his cum spilling over his fingers and dripping down his stomach, maybe even splashing onto the sheets below him — not that either of you cared where it landed. 

His phone wobbled as he tried to hold it steady, but in the rush of his release, it slipped from his hand. For a second, the screen spun wildly before the image went black.

You lay there, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling while you listened to the muffled sounds of him scrambling to grab it again. It only took a moment before his face came back into view, the angle awkward and unflattering, catching him mid-swipe as he tried to clear some of the mess from his chest. There was a pause as he stared at the screen, eyes half-lidded, his lips parted and still glistening from where he’d licked them in between his moans.

“God.” he muttered, a breathy laugh escaping him. He wiped his hand on something off-camera, perhaps a crumpled shirt or towel or anything he could grab without thinking too much, and tried to gather himself. “You- uh, you alright there?”

His voice was softer now, the husky roughness from before fading into something more intimate. It was like the post-orgasmic haze had brought him back down to earth, and for a second, he almost seemed shy. You couldn’t help but smile, catching the hint of embarrassment in his voice. He glanced at the camera and then away again quickly, as if he wasn’t quite ready to look directly at you.

“I’m more than alright.” you replied, your voice still breathless, your fingers ghosting over your stomach where your own release was leaving a faint sheen. You shifted slightly, the stickiness between your thighs now a reminder of just how hard you’d come. “I think you made quite the mess, though.”

At that, his gaze flicked back to the screen, a sheepish grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, well, whose fault d’you think that was?” He ran a hand over his hair, sitting up a bit, but his movements were lazy, like his body was still heavy from the aftermath. “Jesus, that noise you made…What’re you tryin’ to do, kill me?”

“Just wanted to make sure you got there. Looked like you were struggling.”

He let out a playful groan, covering his face for a moment before dropping his hand, letting the camera catch his slightly flushed cheeks. “Struggling? Love, you’re the one who kept dragging it out. Thought you were trying to torture me or something.”

You propped yourself up on one elbow, still a little shaky but grinning at his half-hearted attempt to deflect. “And yet, here you are, still alive. A little shy, maybe, but alive.”

He made a face, one eyebrow arching. “Hey, I’m not shy. I just dropped the bloody phone, that’s all.” But there was a hint of colour on his cheeks, and the way he avoided your gaze for just a second longer told you otherwise. 

You didn’t press him on it. Not when he looked like that, all relaxed and unguarded in the soft light of his room. His posture had slumped a little, his head resting back against the headboard, the tension gone from his body. He ran a hand over his chest, wiping away the last of the mess he’d made, and gave you a smile. 

“Still,” he said after a moment, “that was…fuckin’ incredible.” His eyes softened, and this time, when he looked at you, there was something unspoken lingering in his gaze. “You’re…God, you’re somethin’ else, baby.”

You felt your heart skip at his words, the way he said them so simply, like it was just a fact he couldn’t help but acknowledge. It wasn’t just the sex anymore, wasn’t just the physical connection that had you both coming back to this, again and again. It was something neither of you ever seemed willing to put into words.

“Same goes for you, Turner.” you said softly, your tone matching his.

The air felt heavier, as if the silence carried more than just the aftermath of what you’d done. It was that tension, the one that always settled in after the pleasure faded. The one that hinted at something deeper you both felt but never quite said.

But like always, he was the first to break it.

“Right then,” he said, “I should probably clean myself up before this gets worse.” He gestured down to his stomach, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, you probably should.”

He winked at you before setting the phone down, propping it up somewhere so you could still see him as he disappeared off-screen for a moment. The sounds of him moving around in the background made you smile, the everyday normalcy of it. And then he came back into view, wiping his hands dry. 

“So,” he said, settling back into bed and pulling the covers up over his lap, “same time tomorrow?” 

Your heart fluttered. “If you’re lucky.”

He blew you a kiss, his lips curving into that cheeky grin of his that always managed to melt away any tension. And just like that, with a simple “See you, love.” he was gone. The screen went black, the connection severed, leaving you alone in the dim quiet of your room. 

You sat there for a moment, staring at the now-empty screen, still catching your breath. But as the adrenaline began to fade, something else crept in. 

Jesus…what the fuck were you doing?

The question hit hard, the sharp edge of it cutting through the post-orgasmic haze like cold water. You swallowed, suddenly too aware of the mess between your thighs, the lingering slickness on your fingers. You grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and wiped yourself off, it didn’t go away. It was like no matter how much you cleaned, that sticky, uncomfortable feeling wouldn’t leave.

Because it wasn’t the physical mess that bothered you. It was the guilt. The reminder that always came rushing in the moment you were alone.

He has a girlfriend now.

You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning back against the headboard, the words echoing over and over in your mind. You’d been repeating them to yourself for weeks, trying to let them sink in, trying to convince yourself it mattered. But it hadn’t stopped you. It hadn’t stopped him either.

No, you two hadn’t stopped. Not when he got with her. Not when things between them started getting more serious. Hell, he didn’t fly you out to see him anymore — that had stopped — but somehow, this was worse. It was just video calls now. Just phone screens and breathless moans, but it felt even dirtier. Like some twisted secret you both pretended wasn’t real because it wasn’t technically crossing a line. As if the distance made it more acceptable.

But it didn’t. 

You didn’t know if it was worse because of her, or worse because of how it had shifted between you and him. Before, when you’d met in random cities, it had been thrilling, exciting in a way that made you forget everything else. The unspoken nature of what you had kept it light, kept it on the surface. Just something physical. 

But now? Now it was different. More intimate. Somehow, the distance had made it more intense, more personal. Seeing him on that tiny screen, vulnerable, unguarded in a way he never was in person, it felt like you were crossing a line you hadn’t even realized existed. Like you were seeing a side of him she wasn’t seeing. Like you were still holding a piece of him that she didn’t even know he was giving away.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, hugging them as you stared at the phone in your lap, the screen now dark and lifeless. It was a twisted situation, and yet you kept letting it happen. Every time his name lit up on your phone, your heart still skipped. Every time he smiled at you like that, it was like the guilt didn’t exist. But the moment he was gone, the reality came crashing down on you again.

You were still tangled in something that should have ended a long time ago. 

And now, no matter how hard you tried to justify it, it just felt wrong.

“Hi.”

Your voice echoed through the line, softer than you'd intended, but it reached him. And of course, you didn’t stop. You didn’t even think you would.

“Hey.” he said, his voice thick with that low rasp, a bit softer, maybe even tired. “Where are you?”

“Bed.” you replied, sinking further into the pillows. The late morning light was muted behind thick clouds, casting a gray haze over everything. “You?”

“Balcony. Los Angeles…home.”

You blinked at that, reminding yourself where he was. “Oh right, you’re-”

“I can’t sleep. Just wanted to talk to you for a bit. Is that alright, my love?”

Silence. The word hung in the air like a spark, catching you off guard. My love? You stared at the phone in your hand, your brain still spinning. What time was it even in LA? He must’ve been up late, too late. And yet, there he was, calling you. Saying things like that. Saying that.

How could he just say that?

The pause stretched, and it felt like the world outside your window was holding its breath with you. You clutched the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to chase warmth that never quite came - until now. Until he gave it to you with that one careless word.

“You still there?” His voice cut through the fog in your head.

“What?!” You said it louder than intended, the shock bleeding into your tone. Your heart raced, beating too fast, and you didn’t know if it was from what he said or the way he said it, so casually, like he hadn’t just tossed a grenade into the middle of your chest.

“Hey, don’t jump at me like that. It’s too late, early, whatever.” His tone was playful, a little reprimand wrapped in a sleepy grin you couldn’t see but could easily imagine. “Christ, what time even is it here?”

“Sorry.” Your voice came out quieter, more cautious now, still processing. He had a way of shaking you up and smoothing you over in the same breath.

Through the soft static of the call, you could hear the faintest sounds of the city behind him — muffled car horns, the hum of traffic, a distant siren. You pictured him leaning against the railing of his balcony, the city lights stretching out below him, the LA night still heavy with heat even at this hour. And him, shirtless, of course — because you knew how he got when it was hot, the way his skin would glisten faintly with sweat under the night air. 

You could almost see it now. The soft glow from the streetlights casting shadows over his bare shoulders, the tendrils of smoke curling up from the cigarette he held loosely between his fingers, the way his chest rose and fell as he exhaled. He was calm, unhurried, while you sat tangled up in your bed, blankets pulled tight around you, craving warmth that had nothing to do with the weather. LA might have been hot, but where you were, the day was still wrapped in a cool, overcast morning chill. 

But the heat you wanted, the heat you needed — it came now, seeping into you from a single word. From him. From the way he’d said it like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just shattered the unspoken rules you’d clung to for so long.

“So,” you said, trying to regain some sense of control, but the question felt hollow, a distraction from the larger, heavier thing hanging between you. “You couldn’t sleep?”

“Nah.” he muttered, and you could almost hear the lazy smirk in his voice as he took another drag of his cigarette, the embers glowing briefly before fading. “Not much of that happening tonight. Thought I’d call you instead.”

You shifted beneath the blankets, trying to stop the racing thoughts swirling in your head. “And…that helps?”

He exhaled, the sound of his breath catching slightly before he spoke again. “Yeah. You help.” There was a slight pause, as if he was considering something, then his voice dropped lower. “Always have.”

It hit you like a punch, his honesty, the way he just laid it out there without hesitation, as if the fact that he had a girlfriend wasn’t a reality for either of you in that moment. Like nothing else mattered except the space between his words and how they reached you.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “Alex…” you started, but you didn’t know where the sentence was going. How could you? There was so much you wanted to say, but none of it came out right, none of it could untangle the mess you were both in.

“I know.” he said softly, as if he could read your thoughts through the silence. “Don’t think too hard on it, alright? Not now.”

Not now. The way he said it made you wonder if there would ever be a right time, a moment when the weight of what you had — what you still had — would catch up to both of you. But for now, it seemed easier to let it go, to let the conversation drift back into safer waters, even if you were both just trying to pretend.

You closed your eyes and sank further into the pillows, the phone still pressed to your ear, the sound of his steady breathing filling the space between you. It was late, and you should have been up already, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hang up. Not yet. Even though you knew this was getting dangerous, that this whole thing had already gone too far. 

You stayed quiet, listening to the faint crackle of his cigarette, the deep hum of his voice as he spoke to you about nothing in particular. And somehow, despite everything, it still felt like the only place you wanted to be.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t.

“Fuck, that was good.” His voice was a low, ragged whisper, barely audible over the soft static of the call, but you heard every word. The mic must have been pressed right up against his lips, and the intimacy of it — the sheer closeness — made your pulse quicken. 

You didn’t need to see him anymore, didn’t need the visual to get lost in this with him. Just hearing his voice, feeling the rhythm of his breath in your ear, was enough to set every nerve in your body alight. One sense was enough now, more than enough to fulfill the others.

But you weren’t done yet.

“I haven’t finished.” you whispered back, your voice catching slightly, almost breathless. The gentle hum of the toy still buzzed between your legs, its vibrations steady but relentless, pushing you right to the edge without tipping you over.

He knew, of course. He always knew. The sound of it was unmistakable, that faint buzzing, a sweet torment that filled the silence between your words. You could hear the shift in his breathing, the way it deepened as he imagined you there, still needy, still chasing that final release.

“Good.” he murmured. “Keep going. Don’t stop. I want to hear everything, love.”

You whimpered softly, your hand trembling as you pressed the vibrator harder against yourself, the pressure building, unbearable now. Your body was already aching, but his voice was all you needed to keep going. He had that effect on you, even with just words, guiding you through it like he was right there with you, his breath hot against your skin.

“Come on.” he coaxed, the edge of command in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “I know you're close. Let me hear it, yeah? I want to hear you fall apart for me.”

The desperation in his voice pushed you further. Every word felt like a touch, like the heat of his hand between your thighs, coaxing you toward that final plunge. Your breath hitched, your thighs clenching as the pressure mounted, winding tighter and tighter inside you. 

“I-” your voice cracked, the tension unbearable, your body quaking beneath the relentless rhythm. “Alex, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can.” he cut you off, his tone rougher now, demanding. “You can. Don’t hold back. I want you to come for me, baby. Right into my ears.”

His words hit you like a surge of electricity, sending you over the edge before you could even process it. The orgasm crashed through you, raw and overwhelming, your entire body seizing up as the pleasure ripped through your core. You gasped, the sound breaking into a sob as you came, tears spilling from your eyes as the release took everything from you, left you shaking, vulnerable.

“That’s it.” he whispered, softer now, but still firm, steady. “Good girl. Fuck, you sound so beautiful.”

You cried out, the intensity of it too much, tears mingling with your breathless moans as you pressed the phone closer to your ear, like you needed his voice to hold you together through the storm.

He didn’t say anything else, just listened to you, the sound of your soft, broken sobs filling the space between you, echoing into the tiny microphone like a confession. It felt like you were giving him a part of yourself you hadn’t even meant to, something more than just pleasure. 

When it finally subsided, when your body went limp and your breath evened out, there was a pause. A silence so thick it almost felt like you were both trying to process what had just happened. You wiped at your eyes, embarrassed at how emotional you’d gotten, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Fuck.” you whispered, your voice hoarse, raw.

His laugh was quiet, warm. “Yeah. You alright?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, clutching the phone to your ear like a lifeline. “Yeah.” you breathed. “I’m…yeah.”

“Good.” he said, and there was something almost tender in the way he spoke now, like he was still holding you in that moment, even though it was over. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, you know that?”

Your chest ached at his words, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sound of his voice again. Even after everything, it was still all you needed. Just him.

“Gotta head on stage soon.” he said, his voice coming down from that intimate space where it had been all hushed and rough, still raw from listening to you fall apart just moments ago. You could hear the background noise creeping back in — muffled conversations, footsteps, the distant hum of pre-show chaos.

You still felt the remnants of your orgasm lingering in your limbs, a dull thrum of satisfaction mixed with exhaustion. “How soon?” you asked, not really ready for him to go yet.

“Eh, twenty minutes maybe. Just long enough to catch my breath.” he teased, a soft chuckle following his words.

You smiled, settling deeper into your pillows. The conversation drifted from there, casual and light, the kind of banter that was easy between you both now. Little jokes, comments about his setlist, the usual back-and-forth that felt so familiar. But then, out of nowhere, he hit you with something that left you completely off balance.

“Have you ever had a threesome?”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. “What?”

“You heard me.” he said, a playful lilt in his voice now, as if he was enjoying your sudden hesitation. “Come on, answer the question.”

You swallowed, feeling heat rise to your cheeks despite yourself. You hadn’t expected that. “Why?”

“Don’t ask me questions.” he replied, his tone teasing but with just enough command to make you listen. “Just answer. Have you?”

You hesitated for a second longer, your fingers gripping the edge of your blanket. “Yeah.” you finally admitted, your voice quieter, shyer than before.

There was a brief pause on his end, then “Oh yeah? Have you?” He sounded both surprised and entirely too intrigued. “How many times?”

“Once.” you said, biting your lip. You didn’t want to get into details, but you knew he wouldn’t let it go now. “Two guys.”

His laugh came through the phone, low and delighted. “Oooh, dirty.” he teased, dragging out the word in a way that made your face burn. “Did you take both at the same time?”

“Alex-” you stammered, feeling your pulse quicken. “What?”

“Sorry, sorry- couldn’t help it.” He chuckled, clearly not sorry at all. But the way he said it was disarming, and even though you felt embarrassed, there was something about his tone that made you want to answer. Made you want to keep playing along.

You exhaled, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, I did.”

There was a moment of silence on his end, and then he made this low sound, something between a hum and a laugh, like he was trying to process what you’d just said. “Well, then.” he finally muttered, and you could practically hear the grin on his face. “Look at you, all adventurous.”

You smiled despite your embarrassment, your heart still racing. “Have you had a threesome?” you asked, hoping to turn the tables on him a little, to put him on the spot for once.

“Maybe…technically.” he replied, the words casual but laced with something more. “But I don’t count it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Eh, long story.” He brushed it off like it wasn’t important, but you could tell there was more behind it. “Why’d you ask?”

“Why’d you ask?” You shot back, deflecting the question as easily as he had.

There was a pause, then, with a grin in his voice, he said, “Wanna try?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, caught between excitement and disbelief. “What?” You laughed nervously, unsure if he was serious or just teasing you again.

“I’m just saying.” he continued, his voice low, almost daring. “Might be fun, yeah?” 

Your breath caught, the sudden shift in the conversation leaving you a little breathless. You didn’t know what to say — if you were supposed to laugh it off or take him seriously. But knowing him, maybe it was a bit of both.

“Come to LA.”

You blinked, staring at your phone in the dim light of your room, rubbing your eyes. “Alex, it’s like 5 in the morning.” You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, your voice heavy with sleep, but he didn’t seem to care about the time difference.

“Come to LA, come on.” he repeated, his voice insistent, but not pushy. Just playful enough that it made you smile, even though you were groggy and half-buried under your covers. “You could be here by tomorrow. Think about it.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” he said, but there was a smile in his voice, like he knew you’d hesitate, and he already had an answer for every one of your excuses.

You hesitated, the question bubbling up in the back of your mind. “What about-” You didn’t finish the sentence, but he knew what you meant. 

He cut you off before you could say the words aloud. “Won’t be a problem, love.” His tone was breezy, almost dismissive, as if you were worrying about nothing, but you knew that wasn’t true. Still, the way he said it made it sound like it didn’t matter, like she didn’t matter — not right now, not to him.

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond. It was like this every time — the strange guilt that nagged at you but never seemed to reach him. He had a way of brushing it off, making it feel like what you were doing existed in a different space, separate from his life with her. But you couldn’t ignore it forever.

Instead of pushing it, you let the moment pass, your heart still fluttering a little at the thought of him on the other side of the world, wanting you there, wanting you.

“What are you doing up so late, anyway?” you asked, changing the subject. You could hear the faint sounds of clinking dishes in the background, the unmistakable scrape of a fork on a plate.

“Eating dinner.” he replied through a mouthful of something. “Just got back from rehearsal.”

“What are you eating?” you asked, smiling at the fact that you could actually hear him chewing, like you were there with him, even though you were worlds apart.

He paused for a second, and you could almost hear the smirk forming on his lips. “I’ll show you.”

There was a shuffle on his end as he propped the phone up, the faint sound of a bottle clinking against the coffee table. You could hear him moving around, then the camera flickered, and there he was. The screen was a little dark, but you could make him out — shirtless, his hair a bit messy from the day, sitting on the couch with a plate of food balanced on his lap. The phone was perched on top of an empty wine bottle on his coffee table, and he was hunched over a bit, angling himself so he could still see you.

“Ta-da.” he said, gesturing to his plate with a grin, like this was some grand reveal.

You laughed softly. “What is that?”

He tilted the plate toward the camera. “Steak. Some weird salad thing. Not my best effort, but it’s food.”

You rolled your eyes, settling back against your pillows, watching him through the screen. It felt oddly intimate, seeing him like this, in the middle of the night, halfway across the world, eating dinner while you lay in bed. “You’re such a man.”

“This is a fine meal, thank you very much.” he protested, stabbing a piece of steak with his fork. 

You smiled, watching as he took another bite, chewing thoughtfully before he swallowed. “Well, I’ll give you points for the presentation. Wine bottle stand and everything.”

He leaned forward, closer to the camera, his face now filling the screen. “This is a dinner date, you know. Technically.”

You raised an eyebrow, your heart skipping a beat at the way he was looking at you, even through the tiny screen. “A dinner date?”

“Mmhm.” He sat back again, stretching his legs out on the couch. “Just me and you. Across the world.”

The thought of it made your chest ache in a way you didn’t quite understand — something warm, but also bittersweet. “Is that what this is?” you teased softly, trying to hide the way his words tugged at something deeper inside you.

“Yeah.” he said, his voice softer now. “Feels like it, doesn’t it?”

You bit your lip, your gaze lingering on him as he took another sip of wine, his eyes flicking back to the camera every now and then like he was checking to make sure you were still there, still watching. He hunched a little more, getting closer to the screen, adjusting the phone so you could see him better, his face illuminated by the dim light of his living room.

“So, what’s for dinner on your end?” he asked, his tone casual but affectionate, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Nothing. It’s 5 a.m.” you reminded him with a laugh. “But I’ll pretend I’m eating steak with you.”

“Perfect.” he murmured. “We’ll call it a proper date, then.”

And just like that, the distance between you shrank. You talked more about nothing, about everything, trivial things that made you both laugh. He’d take bites of his food between sentences, telling you stories from rehearsal or complaining about the heat in LA, while you curled up under your blankets, half-asleep but not wanting the call to end.

It felt normal, like you were just two people on a date, no complications, no mess. Just him, and you, halfway across the world, falling a little deeper into something that neither of you could quite name.

“Who is she?” you whispered into his ear, your voice barely audible as you stood close to him, the air thick with tension. 

“A friend.” he whispered back, his breath hot against your skin. His hand rested on your hip, his thumb brushing softly along the fabric of your dress. 

“A friend?” you repeated, your eyes flicking over to her, sitting on the edge of his bed, already there, waiting. She was relaxed, confident, her body half-reclined like she was used to being in this room, like she knew exactly how this was going to go. It made your pulse quicken.

He nodded, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered again. “We’re doing a threesome with your friend?”

“Do you like her?” His question was a tease, but the intent behind it was clear. 

“I mean-” you started, but the words faltered in your throat as your gaze lingered on her. She was gorgeous, with soft curves and this way of looking at you that made you feel both seen and wanted, like she was waiting for you to set the tone, to give her permission to proceed. 

“You do, don’t you?” he murmured, his lips brushing your earlobe. There was something knowing in his voice, something that made your breath hitch. And he was right. You did like her. You bit your lip, feeling your cheeks flush with heat as you nodded slightly, almost embarrassed by how much you did. 

His hand slid from your hip down to your thigh, fingers curling around the hem of your dress, his touch firm but gentle, guiding. He turned toward you, his eyes locking onto yours for a moment, before his gaze shifted, catching hers, and the silent agreement between them was palpable.

Then, without a word, he stepped back slightly, his hands moving to the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and over his head in one fluid motion. His bare chest gleamed under the dim light of the room, his skin warm and flushed. Every movement was deliberate, slow, as if he was letting you both take your time, drinking him in.

You watched as he undid the button of his jeans, his eyes flicking up to meet yours again, searching your face as he slipped the denim down his hips. There was something unbearably intimate about it — watching him undress for both of you, knowing where this was going but still feeling that rush of nerves, that flutter of excitement.

He kicked his jeans aside, standing there in just his boxers now, his confidence in every line of his body. The bed creaked softly as she shifted, watching him too, her lips parting just slightly as her gaze trailed down his body. You could feel the heat of her eyes on him, the tension between you all growing thicker and heavier.

“Do you like her?” he asked again, this time louder, for her to hear too, his eyes darting between you and the woman on his bed. His tone was knowing, a bit teasing, like he was enjoying this dance you were all doing. The way his hands moved to his waistband told you everything you needed to know — he was setting the stage, stripping away any last pretences, letting the heat of the moment take over.

You glanced at her again, your heart pounding in your chest as her eyes met yours, a slow smile spreading across her lips. You swallowed, feeling your nerves twist, the unspoken invitation clear in the way she looked at you. You took a step closer to the bed, drawn toward her, feeling the heat from his body behind you and the magnetic pull from hers in front of you. 

“Well?” he murmured, his voice low as he slipped off his boxers and stood completely bare before you both. The weight of his question still lingered in the air, but it was no longer just about her. It was about all of you, together, in this moment, waiting for the next move.

You licked your lips, your breath quickening as you took it all in — the three of you, this shared anticipation. This wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about what you all wanted, what you were about to share.

He moved with purpose, his hands sliding under the hem of your dress as he stood before you, the fabric slipping off your shoulders, down your body, pooling at your feet. He didn’t rush it. His fingers lingered on your skin as he undressed you, a touch that was both tender and possessive, like he was savouring every inch of you as he revealed it. His lips brushed your collarbone, then down, before he took a step back to take in the sight of you, standing there bare before him.

Behind you, she had already undressed herself, her eyes flicking between the two of you, watching, waiting. But there was no jealousy in her gaze, no tension. She knew her place here. And as you watched her sit back on the bed, her legs parting as her hand dipped between her thighs, you could feel the heat rising between all of you. 

But his attention was still on you. He dropped to his knees before you, his hands trailing down your legs, his grip firm as he pulled you closer to the bed, positioning you just where he wanted you. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and hungry, but there was a softness there too, a tenderness that made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the physical. It was more than just the heat of the moment — it was the connection, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Behind him, she began to touch herself, her soft moans filling the room, but his focus was entirely on you. His fingers dug into your hips, bruising but steady, guiding you onto the bed. And then he laid back, his body stretching out beneath you as he pulled you toward him, his breath hot against your thighs.

“Sit.” he commanded. 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you did what he asked, your knees on either side of his head, your body trembling. The second his mouth found you, your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your lips as his tongue moved against you with practised precision. He knew exactly how to unravel you, how to make you lose yourself in the sensation.

His grip tightened on your hips, pulling you down harder against his mouth, his tongue relentless, his lips dragging over your most sensitive places in a way that made you want to scream. But you couldn’t. Your breath was caught in your throat, your fingers gripping the headboard for support as the pleasure built inside you.

His eyes found yours, locking onto your gaze even as he devoured you, and it was like the rest of the room faded away. She was there, yes, her soft moans blending with yours as she took him into her mouth, her head bobbing between his legs. But to him, she was background noise, an accessory. The way his hands gripped you, the way his eyes never left yours — it was clear where his attention was.

Every time your gaze met his, his moans grew louder, more desperate, vibrating against you as he pushed you closer to the edge. Her lips wrapped around his cock, her tongue flicking over him, but still, it was your body he was focused on, your pleasure that made him groan, that made his grip on your hips tighten as he pulled you down harder, his mouth working you over with an intensity that left you breathless.

You could hear her, the wet sounds of her mouth on him, the way she moaned softly around his length, but none of it compared to the way he looked up at you, his eyes soft yet burning. He worshipped you with his mouth, his tongue sending you spiralling as the heat in your core built and built until it felt unbearable.

He moaned again, louder this time, as your hand reached down, your fingers searching to tug through his hair, but there was nothing to pull on, so you just kept it there, nails scratching his scalp. His eyes fluttered shut for just a moment, savouring your touch, but when they opened again, they were focused, locked onto yours, as if he wanted to watch every second of you coming undone.

And when you finally did — when the pressure inside you snapped and you cried out his name, your body trembling above him — he held you through it, his mouth never stopping, his grip keeping you steady even as the waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and spent.

She was still there, still moving on him, but he barely seemed to notice, barely seemed to react, except when his gaze found yours, except when he could hear your moans. To him, there was only you.

Later that night, the room was a haze, the remnants of heat still hanging in the air between you. She’d left. The buzz from the drinks had settled into a soft, pleasant warmth, mixing with the afterglow of everything you’d just done. You were wearing his robe, one that smelled like him, the fabric heavy against your skin, and you hadn’t even thought about putting on real clothes. Why bother? You knew there wouldn’t be much need for them.

He, on the other hand, was draped in a robe too — his girlfriend’s, unmistakably. The soft floral print clung to his frame in a way that would’ve been laughable under any other circumstance. But right now, in this drunken, hazy moment, you didn’t care. He looked absurd, yes, but it was easy to ignore with the heady mixture of the buzz and the way he was sprawled out next to you, a lazy grin on his face, his hand absentmindedly tracing circles on your leg.

You shifted, pulling your feet into his lap. He started massaging them, his thumbs pressing into the arch of your foot with slow, deliberate strokes. It felt good, more than good, and you let your head fall back, your eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself melt into the sensation.

“You’re good at this.” you murmured, your voice soft, almost slurred from the alcohol.

He chuckled, his fingers kneading deeper into the sole of your foot. “I’ve had practice. Long tours, lots of tired feet.”

You laughed softly, opening your eyes to look at him. His cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, and there was a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He looked adorable.  “So you’re just a professional foot masseuse, then? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Mm, I’ve been called worse.” he teased, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. His gaze lingered, and for a moment, the playful air between you shifted, something quieter settling in its place. His fingers continued their slow, rhythmic movements, the pressure just right, easing away the tension from earlier. “Feel good?” he asked, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone.

You nodded, watching him. “Yeah.”

He smiled, his fingers sliding up to your ankle, massaging the muscles there, his touch lingering. You could see the glaze in his eyes, the alcohol working through him, making him looser, more relaxed. “You’re wearing her robe.” you blurted out, the words slipping out before you could stop them. It wasn’t accusatory, just…an observation.

He glanced down at the floral fabric and let out a low, lazy laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah…didn’t even think about it.” He tugged at the sleeve, pulling it up to look at the pattern more closely, like he was seeing it for the first time. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s comfy.”

“I bet.” you said with a smirk, though your mind wandered, unable to help but think of her for a moment. How she wore this same robe, how different the context must be when it was her in his lap instead of you. But you pushed the thought away, focusing on the feel of his hands on your skin, the soothing motion of his touch.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he murmured, his thumb pressing into a particularly tight knot in your foot, making you wince, then sigh as the tension released.

“I’m not.”

“Liar.” He tilted his head back, resting it against the couch as he looked at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy. “I can see it all over your face. What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?”

You shook your head, trying to play it off, but the way he was looking at you — like he could see straight through you — made it harder to lie. “Nothing. Just…this.”

He raised an eyebrow, his fingers still working their magic on your feet. “This? What, the robe? It’s just a piece of fabric, love.”

“Yeah, but it’s hers.”

He shrugged. “It’s not like she’s here.” You bit your lip, knowing he was right, but the words still felt heavy between you. He was too far gone to care, though, his eyes drifting down to your legs as his hands slid up your calves, massaging there now, his touch more deliberate, more intimate. “I don’t want you thinking about her right now.” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Not when it’s just us.”

For a moment, the reality of what you were doing tried to push its way in. But then his hands pressed into your skin, pulling you back into the moment. You let out a soft sigh, leaning back again, letting him take the lead.

“I’m not.” you whispered, though part of you knew it wasn’t entirely true.

He smirked, his fingers trailing back down to your feet, his touch gentle now. “Okay.” he murmured. “I don’t think we’ll need these robes for much longer anyway, do you?”

You laughed. “Probably not.”

“Thought so.” He leaned in a little closer. “You look better in mine, anyway.”

As his hands continued to knead into your skin, the playful atmosphere between you began to shift, slowly, imperceptibly at first. His touch softened, and he leaned back into the cushions of the couch, the faint smile on his lips dimming as a more pensive expression took its place. The buzz of the alcohol still hummed between you, making everything feel a little looser, a little more vulnerable.

You noticed the change in him almost immediately. His movements slowed, and he became quieter, as if the weight of the night and the drinks had caught up to him. He let out a long, tired sigh, his thumb brushing absentmindedly along your ankle. You sat up a little, your senses sharpening, trying to read him as he stared off into the distance, his brow furrowed slightly.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked softly, your voice cutting through the silence that had settled between you. His hands paused, resting against your legs, but he didn’t answer right away.

He shook his head, a small, bitter laugh escaping him. “Just…been thinking too much, I guess. Too much for someone who’s supposed to be having fun.”

You shifted a little closer, sitting up straighter as you watched him, your own fingers reaching out to brush against his hand, trying to coax him out of whatever was weighing on him. “What are you thinking about?” 

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze still distant. Then he sighed again, heavier this time, and turned his head slightly to look at you. His eyes were glassy, almost sad, though he tried to hide it behind a crooked smile.

“Do you ever feel like…no matter how much you get, how much you have, it’s never enough?” he asked. 

You swallowed, unsure of how to respond at first, but you knew this was more than just a passing thought. This was something that had been sitting with him for a while, something that was starting to spill out now that his guard was down.

“Sometimes.” you admitted quietly, your fingers brushing his as they rested on your leg. “But why do you feel that way? You’ve got so much…”

He shook his head again, that same bitter laugh escaping his lips, but this time it was edged with something sharper, something more painful. “Yeah, that’s the thing, isn’t it? I’ve got everything anyone could ask for. The career, the money, the…the- everything . And yet…” His voice trailed off, and he stared down at his hands, his jaw clenching as if he was trying to keep himself from saying too much. You stayed silent, sensing that he needed space to find his words. 

“And yet…I still feel empty sometimes. Like I’m missing something.” he continued, his voice barely audible now. His thumb stroked over the top of your foot absentmindedly, a small, grounding gesture as he spoke. “I don’t even know what it is that I’m missing, but I feel it. This…ache.”

Your chest tightened at the rawness in his voice. You wanted to reach out, to tell him something that would make it better, but you didn’t know what to say. Instead, you stayed close, your presence a quiet offer of comfort as he struggled with his thoughts.

“Alex…” you whispered, feeling the walls between you crumbling. 

His eyes flicked up to yours, and for a brief second, the mask he wore — the confident, unflinching version of himself — slipped away. What you saw was someone who was tired, someone who carried a burden even he couldn’t name, and for a moment, he looked almost…scared.

“I shouldn’t be saying this.” he muttered, his voice thick with the alcohol and the emotion he was struggling to keep at bay. “I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not.” you said quickly, leaning forward and reaching for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re not fucking anything up. Just…talk to me.”

He let out a shaky breath, his fingers tightening around yours as if you were the only thing holding him together. “It’s just…when I’m with you, it feels different.” he admitted, his words slow and deliberate, like he was walking a tightrope, careful not to tip too far into dangerous territory. “Like I’m not missing anything. For a moment, I’m not hollow.”

Before you could respond, he kept talking, his voice getting more and more unsteady. “I know I probably shouldn’t be saying this, and fuck, I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but…when I’m with you, everything feels…right.”

The confession hung between you, and you could feel the air grow thick with the gravity of it. He wasn’t saying it outright, but you could feel it in the way his eyes searched yours, in the tremble in his voice. He was almost telling you that he loved you.

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as you tried to process what was happening, what he was saying without really saying it. Part of you wanted to stop him, to tell him he was drunk and emotional and that this wasn’t the time, but another part of you — a deeper, more selfish part — wanted to hear him say it. Wanted to believe that what you had between you was more than just stolen moments and hidden desire.

You swallowed hard, and when you finally spoke “Alex...”

But before you could say more, he shook his head, squeezing your hand as if to ask you to stop. “No, don’t. I don’t want to mess this up. I just…I just needed to tell you that, even if I shouldn’t.” He dropped his gaze, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he struggled to pull himself back from the edge. “I shouldn’t have said that.” he muttered, his voice thick with regret, but his grip on your hand never loosened.

You shook your head, squeezing his hand in return, your heart pounding as you looked at him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologise.”

As if he’d run out of words, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a softness that made your heart stammer. It wasn’t like before — hungry, reckless. This was different, slower, like he was afraid of shattering something fragile between you when there wasn’t even a you.

He kissed you gently, his mouth lingering as though he needed this closeness to steady himself, to ground him in the moment and pull himself away from whatever lay beneath his words. His other hand slid up to cradle the side of your face, his fingers tangling softly in your hair, holding you close but not pressing you, as if he were asking rather than taking. 

You leaned in closer, letting the robe slip off his shoulder, exposing more of his skin to the soft, dim light. He shivered slightly at the sensation, his gaze never leaving yours as his hands found your bare waist, his fingertips pressing lightly, anchoring himself as his touch skated across your skin. You felt his breath hitch, as though this tender intimacy had surprised him, as though he hadn’t expected it to feel like this.

His lips brushed down your jaw, trailing softly across your neck as his hands roamed your back, his touch steady and grounding. You could feel his reluctance in the way he moved, his own hesitations cloaked in every caress, like he was trying to ward off what he’d just confessed. But here, with his hands against your skin, with the warmth of you pressed close, it was easy for him to let it all blur, to deflect, to let action say what words couldn’t.

You tilted your head back, drawing a slow, deep breath, feeling the last barriers fall away as he leaned down, his mouth pressing gentle, careful kisses along your collarbone. The robe slipped lower, leaving you bare under his gaze, his fingers skimming over your skin with the kind of reverence that felt like an apology and a promise all at once.

For him, this was a way to escape what he couldn’t put into words, a way to quiet the ache inside him without breaking the fragile equilibrium between you. And for you, it was enough just to be here, his hands on your skin, the silent understanding building between you in every touch, every sigh, and every look exchanged in the dim light.

He pulled you onto his lap with a gentle urgency, his hands steadying you as he guided you down. Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself inside, and when he was fully there, he stilled, his breath catching as he held you close. Neither of you moved. 

He rested his forehead against your shoulder, his lips grazing your skin, soft and unhurried. You could feel his breath tickling along your collarbone, his mouth pressing featherlight kisses. His arms tightened around you, holding you in place, his fingers tracing gentle circles against your back. 

The stillness held something fragile and profound, as if you were both suspended in a space where words didn’t need to be spoken, where it was enough just to feel. His lips moved along your shoulder, his breath hot and his kisses lingering. You shivered as he reached your neck, brushing his mouth against your pulse, each touch a silent confession.

He exhaled, a low, shaky sound that seemed to hold more than just desire but something he was reluctant to let show. His grip on you softened slightly, his hand sliding up your back to cradle the nape of your neck, guiding your head down so that your foreheads rested together, eyes closed, breaths mingling.

You stayed that way, connected, still, letting the silence speak where words had no place. You felt his hands wander up your spine, his fingers tracing gentle paths over your skin. And without moving, without a single thrust, the closeness between you grew thicker, heavier, a feeling that lingered in every sigh.

Eventually, he opened his eyes, looking at you with a gaze that felt like an unspoken promise, one you both knew might go unfulfilled. But for now, with his body beneath yours, his touch lingering on your skin, it was enough. You could feel him tremble faintly, a silent surrender as his lips returned to your shoulder, pressing a single kiss that seemed to say everything he couldn’t.

a/n: kinda digging it, not sure if it makes perfect sense (heh) with the rest of the parts cause it’s been a while but I think it’s okay, this would fall sometime after Dublin In Ecstasy (obviously) and before Mister Midnight.

[merbear25]

Heartbreaker

The one who's claimed your heart doesn't have the most prestine reputation, especially when it comes to love. Yet you've been entraced by them and are now faced with the mine field of a situationship.

CW: SFW, gn!reader, toxic situations, suggestive in Kid's

Zoro, Sanji, Law, Kid

Zoro: You weren't the only one who had taken interest in the swordsman. He remained unaware of the broken hearts trailing behind him, and unfortunately, he'd always been too focused on his personal goals to see that yours was about to join them.

Stood at the ajarred door, you were debating on whether or not to approach him; he had just started a new set in his workout routine and you pondered that it might be better to bring the topic up at a later time.

"What is it?" He questioned between reps.

"I-It's nothing," you blurted out.

The flush on your face was growing deeper with each passing moment, drawing him in fully. "What's with that face then?" smirking at the mess you were clearly unraveling into.

"It's just that... What I want to say is...," you took a deep breath to help steady your nerves. "I like you. More than a friend, I mean." The throbbing in your chest was relentless as you stood there waiting for an answer. The sped up beats ricocheting throughout your chest were now twinging into heartache.

He wasn't saying anything. He was just standing there, not saying anything!

Humiliation casted itself over you and the sensation of tears teased you the longer you stood there waiting for a response.

"I don't really know what to say to that, honestly." There wasn't reassurance in his voice. In fact, he seemed genuinely shocked by your confession.

"It's okay that you don't feel the same."

Thinking it over, he mentioned, "I don't really know how I feel about you. Never took much notice in that kind of stuff."

Picking at the loose thread on your sleeve, you suggested, "Well, would you be opposed to exploring those thoughts more?"

"Maybe not," his smirk returned to his lips, "just don't expect to be swept off your feet or anything."

Sanji: Flight of fancy was more than fitting for this man's fantasies of love. Not just one ever fully captured his gaze, which was always wandering from what you gathered from him. In spite of all this, you couldn't help falling for him. At the end of the day, he was always there for you when you needed him—reliable. Oh, how you loved and hated that about him.

You watched from a distance as he skillfully maneuvered his way around the kitchen, never once misjudging the measurements for whatever he was preparing. However, the cloud of admiration engulfing you was slowly turning to one of sulk—not allowing your heart to love him freely.

When he glanced over at you, you adverted your eyes, regretting having stared at him for as long as you did. In your peripheral, you saw the blonde sauntering over to you.

"Hello, my dear! Would you like to be the first to taste my chocolate mousse?" Offering you a spoon, his innocent gesture was weighing on you.

Plopping the spoon in your mouth, you would never be able to lie about how delightful his cooking abilities were.

Beaming at you, he added, "Nothing but the best for my best."

In your heart of hearts you knew this was anything but ill-intentioned, but you winced from his frilled words.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't think I can do this anymore."

The gleam in his eyes disappeared, "What do you mean exactly?"

Shaking your head at him, you continued, "This! I like you, okay? And I can't keep pretending that I'm fine with you forgetting about me the second someone else catches your eyes."

He took you by the hand, not saying anything yet, and let you continue pouring your heart out, "It hurts that you don't even seem to realize how much it affects me."

"Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?" Before you could interrupt him, he placed a firm kiss on the top of your hand. "Of course, I adore you most of all. So, would you be willing to let me start over?"

"Just...don't throw me aside anymore."

"You'll be my one and only. Promise."

Law: You'd think living in the same proximity with others would give you a better, clearer understanding of them; that was not the case when it came to him. Each time you thought you were getting somewhere with him, he'd push you away, which made you feel like the distance between you was only becoming more unsalvageable.

There had been quite a few times you got a chuckle out of him or a smile, but as time trudged on, your comments seemed to be making him more and more irritated. You began second guessing all of your interactions with him. Before speaking on what seemed like every topic, you ran through possible outcomes. You were so desperate to regain the friendship that you thought you were losing.

"Did I do something wrong?" The question left your mouth without even giving you the chance to stop yourself.

"Are you seriously bringing this up now?"

True, in an ideal world, this would not have been the best time to open this can of worms, but there hardly ever is a 'right time' to talk over issues.

You pressed on, "If I did something wrong, I'd rather you just tell me. At least that way I can be made aware of it and have a chance to change things."

Giving you an exasperated stare and sigh, he told you, "You didn't do anything. Just drop it." Even though he was physically turning his back to you in hopes of signaling his disinterest, it went unnoticed.

"Then, why is it so hard to talk to you now? It wasn't that long ago that we were able to hold a decent conversation. Now, you won't even acknowledge me half the time."

Swiveling around to face you, he shouted, "Because you're everywhere! Always around the corner and always needing to say something."

"Well, excuse me for wanting to talk to you! Damn, I don't even know why I like you!"

The anger he was holding swiftly shifted into bewilderment as the only response he had to that was to blink at you.

Once what you'd said sank in, you went crimson, "I don't know why I said that."

"So, you're going to take it back?" Straightening his posture and smirking he teased, "Didn't pin you as a coward."

"And what if I am taking it back?"

The room went cold while his eyes burrowed into yours. He marched towards you with tenacity, securing you in a firm kiss. "Then I guess you're going to cause me more headaches."

Kid: Being in a serious relationship wasn't exactly your style, but luckily for you, it wasn't his either. Late night meetups to satisfy your cravings were exhilarating. The steamy exchanges would imprint themselves on you, giving you plenty to recall whenever he wasn't available. However, on one of the nights you were left to fend for yourself, your mind strayed—you found yourself wondering if he was with anyone else.

The memory of the two of you agreeing that this was never going to be anything more than physical ate away at you, eroding any sense of what you thought you wanted.

Dread seeped in further expanding the uncertainty. Looking over at your nightstand, you wondered if his thoughts were ever filled with memories with you. You started hoping that the question of what you were up to ever popped into his head; you feared it didn't though.

Against your better judgement, you reached over to call him. Doubt ran rampent in you, leading you to think you should hang up before he answers in order to avoid any embarrassment.

"What?" crackled through from the other side.

Freezing mid air from ending the call, you hesitantly asked, "How are you?"

"What?"

"Just wanted to know...how you are?"

You heard a tapping on his end, "Fine."

Swallowing the humiliation you were bringing on yourself, you perservered. "Can you come over tonight?" The silence that followed was deafening. "If you have time, I mean."

A curt answer, "I can't," followed. "If you have something to say, then just say it already."

You knew you had to rip the band-aid off. "I don't know if I want to keep doing this anymore," steadying yourself you carried on, "I'm interested in getting to know you outside of our late nights together."

"Already told you I'm not looking for a relationship," the static from the connection prickled at your skin.

"I know...I'm not even sure if that's what I necessarily want either. This whole thing's got me being pulled in every direction."

Huffing from the headache you were inevitably giving him, he reiterated, "I can't see myself changing my mind. If you want to keep what we've got going on fine, if not—whatever. Got it?"

"Yeah, got it," despite the disappointment in your voice, you still felt like giving him a proper, "Goodbye."

A low grunt of disapproval came from him, but he managed a, "Bye," before promptly hanging up.

You weren't sure what you were expecting from him; maybe you thought that deep down his feelings for you ran deeper than he'd showcased. Maybe you misjudged him entirely.