#edit: made the hands the correct size

[kathyrealmstales]

Ya know.....

Gay?

Im sorry, I usually don't do ship content on my blog, but I had to. Been having a bad day and this ship makes me happy, especially with how goofy they are.

Also the Lucky design is the look I usually give Y/N characters, imma be honest, might change the design later, but for now, this is how I see Lucky looking.

[satellite-evans]

clumsy

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Your clumsiness is going to be the death of Lando.

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: injuries, fluff, worried Lando

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The first time Lando saw you trip over nothing, he thought it was a one-time thing. Maybe you were just tired, maybe the floor was uneven, maybe it was just bad luck. But after months of dating, he realized it was just... you.

You were a walking hazard. A human magnet for misfortune. A professional at collecting bruises, scrapes, and band-aids like they were limited-edition collectibles.

And, unfortunately for Lando, that meant he was constantly on high alert.

“Babe!” His panicked voice rang out as he watched you stumble over absolutely nothing on the kitchen floor. In one fluid motion, he darted forward, catching you before you could face-plant into the counter. His arms wrapped securely around your waist, keeping you from further self-destruction.

You blinked up at him, sheepish. “Oops.”

Lando let out a dramatic sigh, holding you steady. “How does this keep happening?”

“I have my theories.” You shrugged, playfully tapping your temple. “Faulty wiring.”

He shook his head, scanning you for any new injuries with the practiced precision of someone who had done this far too many times. “You need bubble wrap. No, actually, I’m getting you a helmet.”

You giggled, resting your hands on his chest. “A helmet for walking?”

“Yes. And knee pads. And elbow pads. And maybe a full-body suit.” He crouched slightly, running his fingers over a fresh bruise forming on your knee. His lips pressed together in frustration. “When did this happen?”

You followed his gaze, only now noticing the purple splotch decorating your skin. “Uh… I have no idea actually.”

Lando groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Love, you’re killing me.”

You grinned, cupping his face between your hands. “But you love me anyway.”

“Unfortunately.” He sighed dramatically, but the fond smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “I swear, one of these days, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“I’ll try not to,” you teased, pecking his lips. “No promises, though.”

Despite his exaggerated complaints, he was always there to patch you up. He had a first-aid kit permanently stocked—no, actually, he had multiple, one in the car, one in the bathroom, and a travel-sized version in his bag. He had mastered the art of wrapping bandages, applying ointments, and kissing away the pain (even if you insisted that last part was unnecessary).

At this point, he was convinced he could get a medical degree solely from the amount of practice he had.

And yet, no matter how many times he swore he’d wrap you in protective gear, he never failed to hold onto you just a little tighter, watching out for stray corners, slippery floors, and rogue table edges like they were mortal enemies.

Because, as exhausting as it was, he wouldn’t trade you—or your inexplicable ability to defy gravity—for anything.

Even if it meant keeping an ice pack ready at all times.

As if on cue, you turned to walk away and immediately stubbed your toe on the kitchen island.

“Ow! Shit!”

Lando just groaned, rubbing his temples. “That’s it. I’m putting you in a bubble.”

“That seems excessive.”

“You just injured yourself standing still!”

You grinned sheepishly. “Okay, fair point.”

Shaking his head, he pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re a menace.”

“Your menace,” you corrected, snuggling into him.

He sighed, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah. My menace.”

You were chopping vegetables, fully focused—well, as focused as you ever were when handling sharp objects—when you somehow managed to cut yourself with the knife.

The sharp sting made you gasp, and almost instantly, blood welled up from the deeper cut. Before you could even fully process what had happened, Lando was already at your side. He had been watching you closely (as he often did whenever you were near anything remotely dangerous), and the moment he saw the slip, he sprang into action.

“Shit,” he muttered, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly. “Alright, that’s enough knife duty for you.”

His voice was laced with worry, though he tried to mask it with his usual teasing tone. His eyes darted to your finger, the cut deeper than the usual minor scrapes you tended to collect. Without hesitation, he led you to the sink, turning on the tap and holding your hand under the cool water.

“You know, normal people don’t injure themselves every day,” he tried to joke, though his brows were furrowed as he watched the water run red.

You hissed at the sting but still managed a lopsided grin. “I like to keep life exciting.”

Lando huffed a laugh, though there was a tightness in his jaw. “Yeah, well, I’d prefer if you found a less hazardous way to do that.”

After patting your hand dry with a towel, he grabbed the first-aid kit (which, at this point, he always kept within arm’s reach). His movements were careful, almost practiced, as he disinfected the wound. His fingers ghosted over your skin with such tenderness it almost distracted you from the sting of the antiseptic.

“This is deeper than your usual cuts,” he muttered, pressing a sterile gauze pad to your finger before wrapping it securely in a bandage. “It doesn't need stitches thankfully but you really need to be more careful.”

You winced, flexing your fingers slightly. “Well, at least I have you to patch me up.”

He sighed, shaking his head, but the corner of his lips twitched upward. When he was done, he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles.

“There. Good as new,” he murmured, but his grip on your hand remained firm, like he was reluctant to let go.

You wiggled your fingers dramatically. “Wow, a miraculous recovery. See? This is why I keep you around.”

Lando scoffed, feigning offense. “Oh, so I’m just your personal medic now?”

“Pretty much.” You shot him a cheeky wink before immediately reaching for the knife again.

Before you could even graze the handle, Lando snatched it away with lightning-fast reflexes. “Absolutely not.”

You pouted, eyes wide with faux innocence. “I was just gonna—”

“Nope.” He held the knife out of your reach, shooting you a pointed look. “I’m officially banning you from sharp objects.”

You crossed your arms, watching as he took over the cutting board and started chopping with ease. “So, what, I just sit here and do nothing?”

Lando smirked. “Exactly. Just sit there and be adorable.”

Your lips curled into a slow grin. “You think I’m adorable?”

His chopping faltered for a split second, and you caught the way his ears tinged pink. He rolled his eyes, refusing to meet your gaze. “Shut up.”

But when you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, you felt him smile against your touch.

A few days later, the two of you were strolling through the paddock, the soft air filled with chatter. It was the usual pre-race chaos—engineers darting between garages, reporters setting up for interviews, and fans cheering from the barriers.

Lando had a firm grip on your hand, partly because he liked holding it, but mostly because he had learned that letting go of you for even a second increased the chances of you tripping over something by approximately 100%.

Still, despite his best efforts, it happened.

One second, you were walking beside him, mid-sentence about what snacks they had in hospitality. The next, you were suddenly pitching forward with a startled yelp, your foot catching on a stray cable snaking across the ground.

Lando reacted instantly. With reflexes honed by years of racing at breakneck speeds, he lunged forward, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist just before you could crash onto the hard concrete.

“Alright, that’s it,” he huffed, keeping you firmly against him as you steadied yourself. “I’m officially holding onto you for the rest of the day.”

You barely even fought it, leaning into him with an amused grin. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather you not break an ankle before my race,” he muttered, shooting a glance down at your shin. His jaw clenched at the sight of fresh bruises already forming. “How do you even manage this?”

You shrugged as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Raw talent.”

Lando scoffed, shaking his head, though the corners of his lips twitched. He tugged you even closer, keeping a protective arm around your waist as the two of you continued walking. From then on, any time there was so much as a crack in the pavement, he subtly steered you around it, refusing to take any more chances.

Lando’s race had gone well. Not a win, but a solid finish—good points, a few impressive overtakes, and, most importantly, no major mistakes. After the usual post-race interviews and debrief, all he wanted was to find you, wrap you up in a hug, and maybe gloat a little about how well he managed his tires.

But when he finally spotted you in the motorhome, his relief was short-lived.

You were sitting on one of the couches, clutching your ankle with an ice pack balanced precariously over what looked like a nasty bruise. Your expression was sheepish, but there was a telltale wince every time you shifted.

Lando’s stomach dropped.

“What the hell happened?” His voice was sharp with concern as he strode over, kneeling beside you in an instant. His eyes scanned over you, heart pounding at the thought of what he might find.

You attempted a grin, lifting the ice pack slightly to show off the deepening purple splotch spreading over your skin. “Well, you told me not to break anything before your race… so I did it during your race instead.”

You let out a small, nervous chuckle, expecting him to roll his eyes or make some sarcastic comment.

But Lando didn’t laugh.

His jaw clenched, his usual lighthearted expression darkened with something much more serious. “That’s not funny.” His voice was quieter now, more strained.

You swallowed, the weight of his worry sinking in. “Lando, it’s just a bruise. I didn’t actually break anything.”

He exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his damp curls. “What happened?”

You shifted slightly, the movement making you wince again. “I was walking back from the paddock, and some guy wasn’t looking where he was going—ran right into me. I tripped over a barrier and, well… gravity did its thing.”

Lando closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if trying to contain his frustration. “Jesus, Y/N.” His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure where he could touch without hurting you.

You sighed, placing your hand over his. “Hey, it’s okay. It just looks worse than it is.”

He gave you a look—one of those signature Lando Norris you’re full of shit expressions. “Yeah? So if I press here, it won’t hurt?” He gently placed his hand near the worst of the bruise.

You immediately flinched. “Ow, okay! Point made.”

Lando groaned, rubbing his face. “I leave you alone for one race.”

You pouted. “To be fair, I survived the whole weekend without getting injured until the race. I think that’s progress.”

Lando wasn’t amused. Instead, he carefully lifted your injured leg, maneuvering it so it was resting on his lap as he adjusted the ice pack. His touch was gentle, but his brows remained furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.

After a long moment of silence, he finally spoke, his voice softer now. “I just… hate seeing you get hurt.”

Your chest tightened at the genuine concern laced in his words. You reached up, cupping his face with your free hand. “I know.”

His blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching. “Promise me you’ll at least try to be more careful?”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “I promise to try.”

Lando huffed, clearly not satisfied, but he let it go—mostly. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before shifting to kiss the top of your knee, just above the bruise.

“You’re still getting the bubble wrap,” he mumbled against your skin.

You giggled. “And a helmet?”

“And a helmet.”

[ineffectualdemon]

I think some online leftists need to read Interesting Times by Terry Pratchett but believe him about it not being about China because it's not about China

These two sections live in my head rent free:

"‘Look,’ he said, rubbing his forehead. ‘All those people out in the fields, the water buffalo people . . . If you have a revolution it’ll all be better for them, will it?’

‘Of course,’ said Butterfly. ‘They will no longer be subject to the cruel and capricious whims of the Forbidden City.’

‘Oh, that’s good,’ said Rincewind. ‘So they’ll sort of be in charge of themselves, will they?’

‘Indeed,’ said Lotus Blossom.

‘By means of the People’s Committee,’ said Butterfly.

Rincewind pressed both hands to his head.

‘My word,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why, but I had this predictive flash!’

They looked impressed.

‘I had this sudden feeling,’ he went on, ‘that there won’t be all that many water buffalo string holders on the People’s Committee. In fact . . . I get this kind of . . . voice telling me that a lot of the People’s Committee, correct me if I’m wrong, are standing in front of me right now?’

‘Initially, of course,’ said Butterfly. ‘The peasants can’t even read and write.’

‘I expect they don’t even know how to farm properly,’ said Rincewind, gloomily. ‘Not after doing it for only three or four thousand years.’

‘We certainly believe that there are many improvements that could be made, yes,’ said Butterfly. ‘If we act collectively.’

‘I bet they’ll be really glad when you show them,’ said Rincewind."

Pgs 198-199 of the Kindle edition

And

"‘You see those armies over there?’ he said.

The buffalo holder concentrated his gaze.

‘Yes,’ he decided.

‘They’re fighting for you.’ The man did not appear moved by this. The water buffalo burped gently.

‘Some want to see you enslaved and some want you to run the country, or at least to let them run the country while telling you it’s you doing it really,’ said Rincewind. ‘There’s going to be a terrible battle. I can’t help wondering . . . What do you want?’

The buffalo holder absorbed this one for consideration, too. And it seemed to Rincewind that the slowness of the thought process wasn’t due to native stupidity, but more to do with the sheer size of the question. He could feel it spreading out so that it incorporated the soil and the grass and the sun and headed on out into the universe.

Finally the man said:

‘A longer piece of string would be nice.’"

P 227 of the Kindle edition

This this very relevant to a lot of leftist discourse bullshit I see everyday

[metaforikal]

MDNI .ᐟ

𐙚 mydeimos & phainon 𐙚 

nsfw, afab, no pronouns were used, mydei is a softie, phainon is a meanie.

penetration, cunnilingus, teasing.

⋆˙⟡ — mydei

➤ intercourse is like a sacred ritual between lovers to him, something that shouldn't be rushed. so he isn't one for mindless roughness despite what most people think he'd do.

➤ he'd make sure you're comfortable in his lap, back against his chest as his fingers skillfully prep you down there. he's aware of his size, he wants it to go smooth sailing without hurting you that much.

➤ enjoys, enjoyssss the small little mewls that would spill from your lips just by coming undone on his fingers alone. he'd curl when it hits a certain depth, making your breath hitch. 

➤ when you're wet enough, he'd use your bodily fluid as a lube, coating his arousal with it before pressing the angry tip to your aching core.

➤ he'd go slow and sensual half-way through, making sure everything feels right and snug before hilting himself forward, drawing a sharp gasp from you. 

➤ his rhythm is just nice, a mixture of deep, steady and unrelenting thrusts. the room is filled with shared sounds of pleasure, a symphony that is considered a blessing to his ears. 

➤ "you're so good at taking me in" he would praise you. the way he split you so deliciously makes your eyes roll back, tongue lolling out. you chant out his name like a prayer, the only word you're capable of uttering out at the moment. 

➤ he loves this position. you, sitting in his lap, so close, body pressed against his, taking in his arousal deep in you while his fingers play around with your pebbled nipples. 

➤ his other hand would tilt your head to the side, enough for him to access your lips. his kisses are as deep and passionate as his thrusts, drinking in your moans.

➤ he loves the look on your face, drunk on his love, eyes all hazy and glazed. you in this state, all reserved just for him.

⋆˙⟡ — phainon

➤ ceo of teasing, master of edging, nuff said.

➤ oh poor little you, you've been crying for awhile now, begging him to just please untie the knot in you! but he'd just chuckle, his fingers stop it's relentless tease just when you're about to fold.

➤ "ah ah ah, no cumming yet, my love" he taunts you, making you whimper as a form of protest. he enjoys seeing your teary eyes, lips pouting. he knows damn well that your ego won't let you beg for release in the form of words. 

➤ he's a pussy eater. correct. 

➤ you can try your best to close your legs, still it won't budge. he has a vice-like grip on your thighs, making sure it remains open for him to feast upon the ambrosia dripping in between your legs. whatever phagousa blessed onto amphoreus isn't enough to quench his thirst like how your bodily fluids do. 

➤ he'd make you cry on his tongue for sure, especially when he feels how your velvet walls clench onto him. your back arched, no longer against the soft sheets of the bed. he loves how you squirm, shudder. 

➤ the way your fingers dig into his scalp, tugging onto his snowy hair, pushing and pulling his head away, just made him even more turned-on. 

➤ he's more of a bully than mydei is. his fingers join the sensual assault on your aching core alongside his tongue, gently spreading open the folds as he laps on it like a man starved. 

➤ "i could never get enough of this" he murmurs against your skin, making goosebumps rise across your whole body. you swear you could just lose consciousness from the overwhelming pleasure washing over you.

➤ his favourite position is missionary, he wants to see the myriad of facial expression you'd make when he has you impaled on him. he wants to see how you'd cry and scream his name, seeing how droll spills from the edge of your plump, kiss-swollen lips.

GOT THIS DONE YAHUUU _(´ཀ`」 ∠) _ i deleted the initial one cuz of some little mistakes that i did and i kinda don't want to edit so i just deleted the whole thing and redo 😭

time to get to requests! i'll try to get it done before mydei's banner drop cuz i'll be busy staring at mydei.

[readychilledwine]

Idk if you do requests but holy shit you are amazing but like on the off chance you do I’m feral over this idea you would absolutely kill for cassian or Azriel

I’m dying for a smart ass foul mouthed girl in the dirty book club that’s like half his size to get him all worked up teasing him every time he sees her but when he finally gets her alone she literally was all talk and is clueless and timid and he blows her fucking mind

I talk a big game but it’s all a bit and I have zero confidence to back it up 😂

Bonus points and my first born for…

Dumbification

Big ole size kink

& a praise link to feed the ✨ daddy issues ✨

All For Show

Summary - Cassian has gotten tired of you and your pretty little mouth. He just had to wait for the right moment to correct it.

Warnings - smut, praise kink, degradation, slight dumbification, shy reader x bold cassian, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), implied size kink (little reader x big cassian), public-ish sex, unprotected sex, a hint of Voyeurism, best friend ex dynamic, loose editing, I'm probably missing some to be honest.. oh, gwyriel mentioned. I apologize if it isn't your preferred ship, but it felt right for this fic.

A/N - I've shamefully written this three times because I wanted bonus points while also giving it plot 😅

🗡Cassian Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

Your mouth was going to get you in trouble one of these days, but you couldn't bring yourself to care as you laughed with the Valkyries. 

The 4 of you were deep into your book club meeting, discussing the recent salacious read that had Gwyn’s cheeks matching that shade of red hair you'd grown to love so much. Emerie high fived you, fingers linking together as the newly added Pegasus charms on your woven friendship bracelets made a soft clink. 

You were bold, especially with these 3, and your interest in the sex scene you all had just read was immediately noticed. “I mean,” Nesta genuinely laughed, “Who wouldn't want to have sex with their mate in front of their equally attractive friends?”

Gwyn shrieked, “Nesta!”

A deep throat cleared at that, reminding the four of you that you were in an open room of the House of Wind. That Cassian and Azriel were sitting right next to you. Gwyn shrunk further into her chair, Azriel smirking and chuckling at his.. whatever they had decided they were today, meanwhile Cassian had his eyes locked on you, a brow raised as you began to play with that bracelet. Deep pink, deep orange, and a purple-y navy stared back at you, the blend reminding you of a sunset. “Something to say, General,” Nesta looked her former lover up and down. “Y/n isn't interested.”

Oh, but you were, and he wasn't blind to that. “Just think this is interesting, that's all,” he grumbled. “Especially considering, y/n gets flustered when someone so much as touches her hips to adjust her stance.” Your glare shot his way as your friends began to laugh. Azriel hid a chuckle behind his hand. The tension between you and Cassian had been growing, especially due to the private hand to hand lessons he was giving you. 

“You grabbed me by my inner thigh,” you retorted, eyes rolling.

“And you turned the same shade of red aa the threads on that bracelet Ness wears,” he stated. “You talk a big game, sweetheart. Someone is going to call you on your shit one day.” If you were a smarter female, you would have realized that was a warning. 

Cassian was showing no mercy the next night as he threw you to your hands and knees for the fourth time in your 2 hour session. “What the hell, Cass?!” You were panting as you sat back in your heels. “Did you not get the memo that I am just a girl?”

His eyes rolled, “Stand up.” The part of you that had never responded to demands well sent him a look, head tilted back to study his imposing frame. The look you gave him was enough to break his calm. He was a General, a commander, practiced and poised, but you were ruining him. The tension between the two of you was ruining him. He had denied himself so much in this life, lost so much more. Why deny both of you what he knew you both wanted?

“You know what,” he muttered more to himself than you. “I can't do this anymore.” A hand found its way into your hair, strands wrapping around strong fingers as he pulled you to one of the benches, forcing you between his legs as he sat. “Show me,” he demanded.

“What-”

“Show me what you brag to your little friends about. Show you these skills you think you have.”

Your flush began immediately, “Cassian-”

"I knew it," he interrupted you, “Admit you're inexperienced.”

“I'm not inexperienced! I'm just shy!”

He studied you, hazel eyes taking in every inch of your skin as if you were some display. Even with your clothing on, you had never felt more exposed under his gaze. “Shy but can run your mouth to Ness? To Gwynie? To Em? Are you shy or do my hands make you shy?”

That furthered the flush as said large hand pulled your hair, angling your head back to look at him. “Cass-”

“I'm so tired of hearing you speak.” His lips crashed on yours then, forcing you into his lap, legs straddling one of his much larger thighs. Even like this, Cassian towered over you, consumed your frame. You had never considered yourself the smallest female, but with Cassian? Every female could feel small with Cassian.

His free hand slid down, tracing the curve of your breast, your waist, your hips before grabbing and squeezing your left thigh, forcing it over his other leg so you were fully straddling him and open to him. 

He pulled back, lips still close as you tried to catch your breath, “Good,” he almost seemed to vibrate with his lust. “That's my Good Girl.” 

There was no patience as he pulled your training top off, no ceremony as he took your bra off after it. Cassian was a male in need, something you felt every time he moved and his hips ground his covered length against you. 

A silent prayer was sent to the Gods, thanking them for Nesta being in Autumn with Eris for the next week. While it didn't promise no one would walk into the training ring on you two, it did promise at least Nesta wouldn't. His mouth moved down your neck, kissing and nipping until he found the spot that had you melting to his form. “That's it,” his voice had grown deep as he licked at your skin. “Relax, sweetheart. Let me have you.” 

Maybe it was because your brain stopped functioning. Maybe it was because something in you just seemed to float in his presence, but you didn't remember getting laid back on the mat, nor your leather pants slowly removed inch by inch as he whispered praise. You didn't remember his own clothing meeting the pile of yours somewhere off to your side. But you remembered his kiss bringing you back to him, “So we go dumb?” He forced you to nod. “I bet you just love being cock drunk, don't you, princess,” the nod wasn't forced this time, his smirk growing as he looked to the sky as if to say his own thank you. 

His hands and lips explored every inch, the soft gasps and noises you made his consent, the way you squeezed his fingers encouragement. His tongue swirled your nipple, wetting the tender nerves before latching onto it, rolling and sucking. You couldn't help but arch your back, whispering his title, his name. 

“You sound like I imagined you would,” he murmured as he kissed his way to your other breast, offering the same treatment as his words shot to your core. He had imagined you. Imagined how you would sound below him, maybe on top of him. 

His kisses began to trail lower, paying extra attention to the sensitive spots he found. He stopped at the hem of your panties, eyes glancing to meet yours, “This is your chance to tell me to stop. If I keep going, that's it. It's you being manhandled by me until I'm done with you, understand?”

The whimper that left your throat at that was almost sinful, “Cassian, please.”

“Use your words,” he demanded. “Use that your mouth to tell me what you want done. You like to run it when you think I'm not listening. Talking about how you want to ride cock and be tied up and used like you aren't telling everyone my dreams.”

Another whine as he licked your core, protected from that skilled tongue by thin lace. “Words,” he demanded again.

“Please taste me.” The tear of fabric followed that plea, all caution thrown to the wind as he dived in. 

Cassian wanted to taste every inch of your core. His tongue running over the left side, the right, your clit, your wet entrance. Emerie had told you once enthusiastic partners made sex better and you knew why now. Cassian not only knew what he was doing, but it was clearly his pleasure to be doing it. Each plunge of his tongue inside of you was met with him moaning or groaning, lips vibrating the sensitive parts of your body and building the feeling desperation that slowly wanted to kick in. You sat up on your elbows, watching him as he glanced up, hazel eyes dark and watching your face. Each reaction was a reward to him, your heart seeming to tug at the pride gleaming in his eyes at each little noise that escaped you. 

No novel compared to this. 

No words could describe it. 

Your stomach was growing tight, head falling back as he feasted as if you were the most delicious meal he'd had in over 500 years of life. His lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, tongue making half circle shapes around your far too aching clit as a thick finger ran your core and gently pushing in.

“Cassian,” your body seemed to shutter in pleasure, tightening around that single digit. “Cauldron fry me,” you moaned as he curled his finger up, immediately locating that special spot inside of you. 

This was just his finger. Just his finger had you feeling like you were stretching to a limit as he worked his tongue and hand in time, the band inside of you going taunt. He was careful as he added in a second, watching your face as if he knew. As if he could feel that little panic building in your mind. 

He washed it away as he changed how his tongue was moving, now giving teasing motions with just the tip directly where your body was screaming to be touched. He watched your eyes close, watched your guard drop as your hips moved, wanting to ride his face and fingers. He would have normally allowed it, but not this time. Not when he so desperately wanted control and to prove you were all talk. Not when he so desperately wanted you to be his. Your walls began to tighten again, his name becoming something you couldn't even finish as your gasps and panting increased. 

Then you tumbled. You fell from the edge, squeezing those two fingers so hard he struggled to work you through your high with them. His free forearm pushed down on your hips, forcing you to stay still and at his mercy. He only slowed down when your trembling did, fingers coming out of you so he could lick them clean, his own hazel eyes fluttering shut. He moved up, kissing you again and forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Off,” you begged, mind going hazy as you tugged his own leathers. Your request was met, Cassian standing over you as you instantly moved to your knees, watching his hands unlace before pulling down. His cock stood hard for you. It was thick, long, veins in places you knew were going to touch the perfect spots inside of you. 

Cassian was larger than any male you'd ever been with, and it had been a while since you had been with anyone. He was a challenge, one you were prepared to meet as you felt your mind fully slip away. “Open,” he whispered. His own stomach flipped with excitement when you obeyed, hand grabbing your high ponytail as he moved his hips and your head forward. This was something you knew, mind immediately working on the sole goal of his pleasure as you began to lick and suck, head bobbing. His hips met your pace, not pushing or forcing. “Just like that, sweetheart. Putting that mouth to good use for once,” he groaned. He tasted of something purely Cassian. Of salt and power. “You look beautiful like this,” his hips increased slightly, encouraging you to do so as well. “Mouth wrapped around my cock, looking up at me with those pretty eyes. Such a good girl.” 

He wouldn't give you the satisfaction of making him finish like this. No. He wanted that to happen when he was buried inside of you, you ass bouncing with each thrust he would give you. He watched you closely as you sucked him off, tongue and lips wetting him until he was sure he wouldn't last if you kept going.

Whines of protest left you as he pulled you off, walking you the bench and forcing you to crawl with his grip on your hair. “Hands on the bench.” An order you were not dumb enough to deny, positioning yourself as he asked. He kneeled behind you, kissing your spine as he forced a knee up on the bench as well. It wasn't comfortable, but it would be effective. “Breathe.” Another command from the General of the Night Court as he lined up with you and began pushing in. 

“Gods!” Each inch of him seemed to knock the air from your lungs, your breathing ragged. “Cassian, I can't-”

“You can,” he silenced you. “Breathe. Breathe like we taught you.” He timed his entrance with each deep breath, groaning once he was fully inside of you. His hand went to the small of your stomach, dirty thoughts about wanting to be big enough he could feel and see himself inside of you.

The first rock of his hips had you almost shouting your moans. He reached places you'd never known. Places no one had ever touched. You were like a vice around him, the stretch burning and adding to your pleasure as he began to move, stroking that building fire with care. It didn't long for the training area to smell like sex. To be filled with the sounds of his deep groans, you gasps and pleads, the sounds of skin hitting. 

His hands reached forward, wanting more control of you as he grabbed your arms, holding and forcing them behind your back and making you arch more for him. Helpless. You were helpless. 

And that's when the Cassian Nesta had described to you all began. 

His thrusts became fast and hard, hitting your g spot over and over. His hand that wasn't holding your wrists found your throat, resting there and giving one squeeze to test the waters. You couldn't even moan his name anymore as that fire grew, all words were lost to you, all thoughts eddied before falling to silence. Your body wanted to feel. And feel you did. 

Every drag was a spark, every word he whispered in your ear a kindling. You would burn. You would burn alive if he didn't stop. That tension built again, faster than it had with any other partner. 

Cassian was a God. No one could convince you otherwise as those scarred lips pressed against your temple. “I won't last,” he muttered. “You're too warm. Too tight. You have me, princess. You and this pretty pussy.” He smirked as a wanton moan left your throat, the heat of his body sending you into overdrive. 

You wouldn't last either.

Frankly, you didn't want to. 

His hand squeezed your throat again, his pace becoming less patterned and wild. He was chasing your high like a predator closing in on its next meal, and when you seemed to freeze, body tensing before a scream tore through you, he served himself. 

“That's it, y/n. Doesn't that feel so right, angel? Falling apart with me inside of you,” he grunted as he fought off his own high. “You feel like heaven, y/n. So good, baby. So fucking good.” His voice prolonged your high, forcing you into a state of overstimulation. You collapsed against him, body putty to his will as he chased his own orgasm.

“Fuck,” he yelled before you felt him give one last hard push into you, warmth spreading as his spilled inside. His hands moved, one shooting out to wrap around your hips, forcing you to stay down. The one found the bench, stopping the forward motion from you both falling into it, protecting you even as his mind clouded to the feeling of you squeezing around him.

This didn't just feel like heaven. It was heaven. 

He moved your leg down once he was done, his hand now finding your chin to tilt your head and kiss you softly. “You did so well,” he said against your swollen lips. “So responsive for me. Felt so good. Was it good, sweetheart?” You only nodded, biting your lower lip as he showered you with more praises. “Let's get you dressed so I can get you in a bath.”

Your arms held his right one once you two were dressed and walking towards the house. He only paused when the door opened, and Azriel sighed, holding Gwyn against him as she blushed and squirmed, “You couldn't have kept going,” Azriel teased. “Gwyn was enjoying the show.” Your face fell, realizing you had been caught and watched. Teal eyes met yours, her own blush spreading out from where Azriel had a hand on her mouth. “Come on, my light,” Azriel purred to her. “Time to go do dagger training.”

Cassian laughed as he continued pulling you in the house, pulling you to his room, to his tub. 

You could face the consequences of Nesta potentially finding out later. All that mattered now was the feel of his hand, slipping down your body and below the water for round two.

General Taglist:

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[leclerc-hs]

snowballs - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader (fem) summary: in which you bake cookies with charles and his daughter but still end up on your knees warnings: some cute fluff?, 18+, slight smut, oral (m-receiving), bad french (please correct me!!! i don't speak french), not proofread word count: 1,342 author's note: merry christmas eve (ya filthy animals) lmaooo. also loling at the title. leaving this here for y'all. single dad Charles has me in a complete chokehold. this is not a part 2, just a little Christmas themed drabble if you wanna call it that. if you didn’t read THIS yet, then go do it.

french edits made by @dannyramirezwife !!! (my angel)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE AIR WAS filled with the sweet scent of pine and cinnamon, instantly putting you in a festive mood as soon as you arrived today. Soft, twinkling lights adorn the walls and windows, casting a warm and inviting glow throughout the space. Throughout the apartment, the sound of classic Christmas tunes plays softly in the background.

The kitchen, where all three of you stood, was pure chaos. Bowls varying sizes are strewn across the countertops, each bearing the remnants of different stages of the baking process. A mixing bowl, its sides smeared with sticky remnants of cookie dough, sits next to a flour-dusted measuring cup. Multiple trays of already baked cookies, sat cooling atop the stove. It truly was a mess.

“Papa! Vous ne pouvez pas manger ça!” You can’t eat those! She exclaimed in fits of laughter. Her face was absolutely covered in ingredients. No doubt from sneaking licks of cookie dough and frosting when she thought that nobody was looking. Flour coated her hands and arms, and some had found its way to her rosy cheeks.

“Ils sont pour le Père Noël!” They’re for Santa! You agreed with her. Swatting him with one of the Christmas themed hand towels that was nearby, before returning to decorating the cookies that lay in front of you.

Charles emitted a resounding gasp, skillfully weaving of feigned anguish. His reaction unfolded with a theatrical flair; a symphony of emotion portrayed through a dramatic hand gesture that traversed the journey of his fist to his chest. It mimicked the palpable sensation of being struck, an artful display of simulated injury. “Un autre homme reçoit tout cela?” Another man gets all of these?

With an indulgent smile, you playfully orchestrate a slow, deliberate roll of your eyes in response to his theatrics. Unfazed by the charming display, you redirect your attention solely to the task at hand – meticulously adorning the remaining cookies with festive embellishments. The ambiance in the room becomes a delightful blend of shared amusement as you all work hard finishing them all.

Charles soon excused himself to his bedroom to gather a call regarding some car testing that happened earlier this week. 

As you were on the verge of releasing a hearty sigh, ready to vocalize your exhaustion, your attention diverted to the drowsy four-year-old near you. Her delicate features were gently pressed against the countertop, closed in the embrace of slumber. A wave of endearment washed over you. Suppressing a giggle, you marveled at the sheer adorableness of the scene, momentarily setting aside your fatigue to savor the precious sight before you.

Tenderly, you gathered her into your arms, cradling her like a precious bundle. With each careful step echoed through the familiar path leading to her room, where the soft glow of ambient light revealed the traces of a day well spent.

Arriving at her bed, you marveled at the cherubic expression on her face. Softly, you attempted to wipe away the remnants of flour that adorned her tiny arms and face, a silent acknowledgment of the shared joy in the day’s baking escapade. Deciding that it was best to let her sleep than to wake her to bathe her now. The sheets could always be washed later. In that quiet moment, you sat on the floor beside her bed, just smiling at her. The room became a sanctuary, where the gentle act of care echoed the love woven into the fabric of the night.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles stood silently in the doorway, quietly observing the intimate scene before him. A swell of emotion gripped his heart as he beheld the tender scene – there you were, alongside his daughter, the warmth of familial connection radiating from your shared moments. In that unspoken exchange, a poignant desire filled his heart, longing for the sense of family that seemed to effortlessly bloom in your presence. His heart was full of want for you.

“Sugar crash?” His voice, soft and unexpected, caught you off guard, prompting an instinctive flinch. As you turned your head, you found Charles slowly approaching, his tall figure standing gracefully behind where you were seated. His captivating green eyes remained fixed on you, their beauty holding a silent intensity, never once wavering from your presence. 

“Oui,” you softly smiled. “Je devrais aller nettoyer,” I should go clean up. You stood to your feet as Charles pressed a soft kiss to his sleeping girl and brushed her hair out of her face.

Back in the kitchen, it truly looked like a tornado had hit the room. Standing amidst the culinary chaos, you contemplated where to even begin when, suddenly, a pair of hands playfully seized your waist, diverting your attention.

“Tu me rends fou,” You drive me crazy.

His lips pressed softly into the swell of your neck, his tongue pressing against your cookie batter covered skin. “Tellement doux,” So sweet.

Your stomach clenched with butterflies as he spun you around, holding you close to him. Slowly, he brings his index finger to the corner of your mouth, wiping a speck of dough off you and bringing it to your lips.

He doesn’t even need to tell you before your opening your mouth, wrapping your tongue around his finger to lick it off. You stare up at him in the process, witnessing the color of his eyes darken as you release his finger with a ‘pop’.

“Je te rends toujours folle?” Still drive you crazy?

You observed the Adam’s apple in his neck bobbing with a pronounced gulp. The veins in his neck stood out prominently, evidence of his teeth being clenched.

You slowly made your way to your knees, trailing your hands down his body, feeling his taut muscles through the confines of his sweatpants. You skillfully looped your fingers into his waistband, pulling them down to free his hard length. Not too far away, was some spare cookie dough on the island of the kitchen. To which, you reached one arm up and grabbed, spreading some of it onto him, a smirk graced your lips as you heard him groan. 

“Mon dieu,” My God. He physically had to lean forward, hunching over you, in order to grip the kitchen counter top as soon as your tongue met him.

You moaned at the taste of him and the cookie dough.

He half-chuckled as his hips bucked further into your mouth, chasing after his pleasure. He inhaled sharply, trying to relax, but you were eager and adamant on getting him there. You were so so so eager to please him. 

Your hand gripped him, collecting the spit on your fingers, spreading it all over his hot skin, while you suckled gently at his sensitive tip.

“Mmm, fuck,” He couldn’t get full words out as you sunk him deeper into your mouth, his tip scraping the walls of your throat. The burning in his stomach was rising as he watched you eagerly take every inch of him. You moaned at the taste of him, the vibrations pushing him even closer to the edge.

His face was completely flushed now as you bobbed up and down, essentially choking on him. Keeping your voice down, you pulled off of him again.

“Je te veux partout sur ma langue,” Want you all over my tongue. Your whimpery tone sent him over the edge almost instantly. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he repeated. The muscles of his arms bulging as he gripped the edge of the countertop tightly. Your eyes were wet with tears, but you were satisfied as he filled your mouth. Your tongue ran over the tip once more, licking up every drop, before he took a step back from you. 

You grinned lazily at him as you stood to your feet. His chest was rising and down deeply as he tried to catch his breath.

“Complètement fou,” Fucking crazy. He murmurs, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. 

“Il est temps de nettoyer!” Time to clean! You clap your hands together, devious to escape his touch. 

But you both know, that he won’t let you off the hook that easily.

[potatomountain]

Chapter Twenty-Five

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader

📍Summary: "What You Wanted"

📍WC: 3.8k

📍AU: detective/mafia

📍Genre: action, dark themes, poly romance

📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, cnc, gun threats, gun play, choking, 'kidnapping' if you squint, size kink, stomach bulge kink, threesome (of sorts), manhandling, penetration with no barrier, cream pie, ripped panties, reader essentially consents, thrill kink, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia

📍AN: Guess whats back! And a day early! 5 chapters after this but honestly so much is gunna happen hehehe

📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer , @skteezcursed and edited(usually) by the amazing: @daemour

📍dividers and banner made by me!

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It occurred to you the alarm that had gone off wasn’t really an emergency, but a ploy to keep you from asking questions you shouldn’t. After all, Yeosang had been watching. You didn’t know where the camera’s were, or what he could see, but you were even more certain that was the case a week later.

You had purposely asked Haru if she knew of anything going down around that time, and she had just confirmed your suspicions. Then you picked up that later in the week the Guardians had interjected, backing up the Vipers just as you had told Hongjoong.

But the real suspicious activity was the Vipers’ increase of goods from the docks- they were doing business with the Black Pirates.

Some of the girls speculated that the Pirates were helping for more territory over the river; others said they saw that without the Vipers, they would be the target of the Wolves. You supposed both could be true, but if you were correct you knew the most viable answer: if the Vipers lost, then San was lost.

The conflicting emotions and morals inside your head and heart were starting to boil over, unable to look Seonghwa in the face as he picked you up for the night. It was later than usual, the club had been more packed than normal with quite a bit of players killing some time. You were quite good at bartending, adding a little extra alcohol for some to get their lips loose, losing track of time in the process.

Yet Seonghwa hadn't been waiting long at all when you came out the back, a reminder that Yeosang had been watching and probably told him when you started closing up. Adjusting your skirt that kept riding up you approached him, taking note of the subtle way he eyed your legs.

Good, that would make this easier.

The skirt rode up even more once you were on the bike, bare inner thighs pressed against his rear, pressing closer as the heat from the bike radiated onto your skin. Your arms were tight around His waist, chest against his back, usually shy deliberate touches were now bold ‘accidental’ touches you would constantly apologize for.

Like digging your nails into his hips when he would make a turn, or grabbing his thighs when he would stop so you could ground yourself. The way you “adjusted” your skirt every chance you got just to rub against him and press your chest closer. You could tell from the way his muscles tensed up, and the white-knuckle grip on the handles that he was affected.

Once you arrived at your apartment, you didn't immediately step off the bike, nor unlatch from him. Your hesitance to head inside showed, thankfully it played in your favor.

“Angel?” Seonghwa sounded concerned. Good. Perhaps this would make it easier to bring him inside.

Slowly you stepped off the bike, took the helmet off and appeared flustered. “Can we talk? Inside? Please?” When he appeared reluctant you added on “you told me if I had doubts to talk to you. You aren't going back on that now?”

He softened, shaking his head and stepping off the bike once he turned it off. “Of course not. Let's head inside.” With his hand on the small of your back you made your ascend to your apartment.

Each step felt like an added weight on your heels, glancing back as you held his hand. If he could tell you were nervous, he didn't let on. Maybe you could play it off with your concerns. Seonghwa was a smart man though, so who knows how long you could keep up with deception.

Hopefully long enough to subdue him.

Once inside your apartment you kicked your shoes off, taking his hand once more once his were off too. “What is it, Angel?”

His obvious concern felt like a knife in the already growing wound. “Has Captain told you… about what we did in the gym a couple weeks back?”

Only because you were looking for it did you see it: the slightest tell of recognition. He buried it quickly under a look of confusion. “No, he hasn’t. What did you do?”

That obvious lie was like a shot of adrenaline. A sharp reminder of what you had to do. Any thought you had about asking him straight out was dashed from your mind.

With a coy smile you pulled him by the hand to your bedroom, his gaze dipping to the way your hand worked off the zipper of the jean vest you wore, nothing but the lace bra under it. The undercover work required more revealing clothing, but this you wore with this moment in mind. “I sucked him off, I wanted to do much more than that but there was an emergency.” Your words clearly affected him, just as you wanted, but you were still cautious. “But I haven’t seen or heard from him since… did I do something wrong?”

Seonghwa followed your every step, letting you pull him into the bedroom as your vest was opened and chest displayed. “You didn’t do anything wrong Angel… I’m sure I would’ve known about it.” You were positive he did know though.

“Then… can you ease my worries? W-with Chan I-” You trailed off, playing the part of dejected woman perfectly as you pulled those feelings to the surface. “I don’t want any more uncertainties about if I’m wanted or not. Please? Just a reminder?” It helped you had been so vulnerable with Seonghwa before, he didn’t seem to suspect it was staged.

Not as he followed you onto the bed, lust taking over his features as he reached out, fingers trailing over the lace bra. “We’ve been neglecting you again haven’t we Angel?”

You nodded, scooting more and more back on the bed so there was plenty of room for you both. “Just a bit.” The closer he got, the more you shut off your emotions. The wants and desires to do this under different circumstances. To completely indulge in the way his gaze devoured your body, to trust him with your heart, and give yourself over to the partnership the eight of them had.

But you weren’t one to trust so easily, not any more, and you couldn’t handle the lies. Not after everything. This wasn’t a desire for them physically any more, or a need for respect in their work. His lips on yours felt like a game, as if they gave what you wanted just to keep you at bay, to twist and manipulate you so you suited their needs.

This was personal.

You kissed back just as you wanted to, because even as your world was crumbling you still desired him, desired them. His touch still had heat pulsing between your thighs, still had you so eager to lose yourself to the way his hands worshiped your body. Over your breasts, down your sides, pushing your skirt up so he could slot his thigh between yours.

With a ragged moan you rolled the two of you over towards your right, straddling his waist and grinding down on his hips with clear desperation. “Hwa~ You look so good like this, under me.” Your lips were back on his in a heated kiss before he could respond, rolling your hips to stimulate the growing bulge you could feel. You were throbbing imagining it inside you, hitting deep every time you slammed down.

Shaking those thoughts off, your hands slipped up his shirt, slowly pushing it up. His kisses became hesitant, pulling away once your fingertips met his perky little nipples. “W-wait Angel, my shirt…”

“What about it?” You trailed kisses along his jaw, pulling one hand away to grab his hand and place it back on your ass when he had pulled it away. “Are you shy?”

“A little… please?” He pushed at your hands, pleading up at you.

With a reluctant sigh, you nodded, moving your hands to brace yourself by his shoulders, capturing his lips again as your hand slid into his hair. “Just don’t stop touching me then.” Thankfully he listened, his hands back on your ass, kneading the flesh there as you continued to kiss him.

In an instant it all shifted, the gun you were now pressing to the side of his head the reason. You kept one in your pillow to help you sleep better at night ever since you started the undercover work, and it was a blessing once you started to suspect.

Slowly you leaned back, keeping the gun trained on him as you wiped away all signs of desire from your features. “Cut the bullshit Seonghwa.”

He too had a stone expression, eyes hard as he stared down the barrel of your gun. “What are you doing?”

“Getting answers. You know how good of a shot I am, so why don’t you just listen to what I say and you’ll walk out of here alive.”

“With Mingi right next door?” He cocked a brow, meeting your gaze.

You smirked. “Really? That’s your retort? Nothing about my morality or oath I made as a cop? But threatening me with Mingi next door? You don’t want to get the police involved in this, don’t you? Better to kill me and cover it up huh? If I’m willing to shoot you, don’t you think I’m willing to shoot him too?”

His jaw went tense, eyes flicking away for a brief moment. If you still believed that he did care for you, you might take that as a sign of remorse. “What do you want to know?”

“First-” Keeping the gun trained with precision, you grabbed his hands and pulled them up to the headboard where you had a pair of cuffs hidden. “I knew you would look good in bondage.” When he pleaded your name, you tightened the cuffs. “Don’t. You had plenty of chances to tell me.”

“Tell you what?” He insisted, seemingly unaffected by the gun as you moved down his body and pulled his shirt up. He went deadly still, your eyes falling on the very evidence you needed. Scrawled on his ribcage, were the words “Black Pirate”.

Gone was the last bit of hope, the last chance you could convince yourself that you were being paranoid and that your distrust was wrongly placed. And with it, you just snapped. Laughter boiled out of you, insane laughter like this was the funniest, craziest thing to have ever happened. “I- I can’t believe it. I was right?”

You didn’t want to be.

“Angel-” Seonghwa’s plea was cut off by the muzzle of your gun being pressed to his lips.

“No. Don’t call me that. I’m not that.” You sneered out, laughter gone. “I wanted to trust you. I did trust you. But this? The Black Pirates?? Seriously?” 

It irked you how his gaze softened, concern there like a mother wanting to comfort their hurt child. “We were going to-”

“Tell me? When? After I fucked you all? Killed someone for you? Got so deep in that I wouldn’t have any escape if- Oh my God you were huh?” You swallowed hard at that daunting realization. “You were only going to tell me when I was so far in that you had no choice. Not because you trusted or cared for me. But because you were stuck with me and once I had enough blood on my hands only then would you tell me?”

He couldn’t meet your gaze. It hurt even more.

“The team comes first, it’s our shared secret, our personal feelings don’t matter.”

With a rise of anger clogging your throat you pressed the gun closer. “You had me believe I could be part of that, but I’m not. I’m not part of the team, of any of this! You used my vulnerability over Chan against me. Took advantage of the way they just tossed me aside. I trusted you, but you couldn’t trust me? Not without…” You broke off, shaking your head and trying to clear your thoughts.

You were a detective first. You had the law to uphold. This was not the right way to do it. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself you climbed off him, keeping the gun trained on him as you patted down his body. You found a gun on a calf hostler, tossed it on the chair out of reach with his pants, patting both down for any wire or tracking device. You turned his phone off for good measure, knowing Yeosang could probably track the location.

The whole time Seonghwa was watching you with that look in his eyes that was making your blood boil, but he didn’t speak. 

With the silence it gave you a moment to think. What could you do, this was a member of the black pirates- the higher up would be pleased. But you were also aware you had no way of bringing him in alone. Your evidence was nothing more than the tattoos now and the fact Seonghwa wasn’t denying that yes, they were. It was the whole unit too, and being the department of organized crime- well they would be the ones who would normally be called in to deal with this.

But you also couldn’t just let him go. You’ve held him at gunpoint, threatened his and Mingi’s life, and you knew their secret. They weren’t going to give you a chance to get evidence against them, nor were they going to let you live for very long either. You had this one night to figure it out.

Burning the bridge with SK was now a very bad idea. You were entirely alone, and doing something reckless and stupid.

No wonder why you got transferred.

“Angel-”

You swung back around to point the gun at him again, your emotions boiling in the pit of your stomach. “Stop calling me that!”

“Then talk to me! I can’t help-”

You climbed on top of him quickly, pressing the gun to his forehead as you sneered. “Help? Why the fuck would you want to help me? Your team comes first, and I’m not part of that remember.”

“Is that what this is really about?”

“No!” Yes- screamed in your head. “The Pirates have been active long before any of you became detectives. Wooyoung isn’t even an official one, and with the way Yeosang can erase an entire person from the internet, with access to police records and sealed files, I’m sure he could make any crimes you all did just disappear. Could make me disappear.”

“And you’re smart enough that you know this entire situation only hurts you, whether I live or die.” Seonghwa attempted to reason with you, and you wanted it to work. “So let me help you. Let me go, we can go talk to Hongjoong, and we can resolve this together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You wanted, more than anything, to believe him. And you would’ve. You lowered the weapon, just an inch as you blinked back tears, only to jump into action when you noticed a shadow in your peripheral, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. You plummeted to the bed, large hands pushing your body down as the gun was tossed from your hands.

Instead a large hand was on your throat, squeezing hard enough your windpipe felt tight. Yunho stared down at you with such a murderous glare that any belief you had in Seonghwa was dashed. How could you talk it over with someone who wanted to kill you?

“Yunho! Don’t!” Seonghwa pleaded as you choked, grasping at his gloved hands to try and get him off you.

“She had a gun pointed at you so don’t give me that shit!” He snapped back, tearing his eyes away for just a second long enough for you to turn the tables. You kneed his balls and then kicked his leg to have him stumbling to the side. With a timed punch to his own windpipe you were out of his hold and rolling off the bed to grab your discarded gun. 

He was quick to recover, grumbling curses as he followed after you, grabbing your leg to pull you back on the bed. With a silent gasp of surprise, you kicked back at any part of him you could, hitting his jaw then shoulder, just to have him grab your other leg and have more leverage against you.

You managed to get the gun, grabbing it and bringing it up just as he had you on the bed again. He stilled, staring down the barrel of your gun as he held your waist down. “You reeeally want to do that, butterfly?”

The nickname brought back flashes of the club, the desire you had seen then once more in his eyes which just astonished you. He was panting, busted lip and a smirk on his features as he stuck his tongue out and licked the muzzle of the gun, daring you to pull the trigger.

He used your befuddlement against you, lifting your hips with one hand so you could feel the bulge in his pants, catching the spark in his eyes as he stared down at your throat where you knew there were bruises forming. Bruises in the shape of his fingers.

“Yunho- don’t.” Seonghwa warned again, something different about his tone this time that had you afraid of something else. They were mafia, meaning they committed crimes, killed people and probably-

You swallowed, throat sore as you tried to speak. “I’ll shoot-” It came out like a croak, much less threatening than you hoped for.

He laughed around the muzzle, tongue still playing with it like he was kissing it. “Yeah? Do it. Shoot me. Come one baby girl, you can shoot me, or you can fuck me.”

“For fuck’s sake Yunho now isn’t the time!!” For the first time since you had pulled the gun Seonghwa began to squirm to escape, attempting to at least. It would have clicked sooner in your brain if you weren’t so fixated on the way he licked the gun.

“But it is… isn’t it? You wanted us, wanted to trust us, and now that you think we don’t want that you’re lashing out. You want proof yeah? That we still want you?” Yunho’s words cut deep but-

He wasn’t wrong.

At your core, you just wanted a place to belong. No matter how well you did on the job, how many things you achieved, it all meant nothing without someone to trust. Someone in your corner. You’ve never had that, and they have given you a taste of their corner.

You wanted that. But it meant nothing unless they wanted that.

All the fight was pulled from you as Yunho flipped you over, holding your hands above your head with one hand as he ripped your panties off with the other. He was rough. Two fingers shoved into your pussy before you could even react.

“She’s so wet Hwa- fuck. You get off on the fight baby girl? Like to be choked and tossed around? I like doing that to you.” Yunho whispered in your ear, nibbling at the flesh as his fingers pumped into you roughly.

The gun was still in your hand, you could easily point it at Seonghwa to get Yunho to stop. This was wrong, he was being mean about it and yet-

With a moan you dropped the gun, instead gripping the sheets and lifting your ass for more of what he was giving you. “Told you.” He chuckled darkly, fingers removed just to get shoved into your mouth.

Even as he let go of your wrists to undo his pants, you remained pliant under him, glancing over at Seonghwa while you sucked your own juices off the two appendages. He had stilled, watching the scene before him while biting his lip.

You held his eye content as Yunho pushed his entire length into you, a raspy cry leaving your sore throat and eyes going wide. You knew how this looked, especially on paper, but you made no effort to stop it.

Not when Seonghwa looked at you with such impatient desire your pussy throbbed around Yunho’s dick slamming into the deepest parts of you. His size matched Mingi’s, and there was the drag of metal on his tip that hit all the sweet spots with you still being so tight. No pleas to stop would be coming out of your mouth, just moans and pants as you just gave in.

Yunho fucked you with such a force the whole bed shook, his hand grabbing your throat again to bend you back, the shift in angle having you cream on his dick with the lack of oxygen. You felt high, even a bit like you were going to pass out, but you latched onto consciousness like your life depended on it.

In a way, it did.

“That’s it. Maybe San was right, you are made for us. Taking my cock so fucking well- I can see it bulging out your cute tummy. See that Hwa?” Yunho rasped out against your ear, staring down your front.

Seonghwa shifting into your view was not what you were expecting, his now freed hand pressing against your stomach and hissing. “You’re being too hard on her.” Yunho must have tossed him a spare handcuff key and you were just too delirious to notice.

“The brat was acting out, I’m just- ngh fuck- putting her in her place.” Yunho’s words were now heavier, his grip on your throat different from when he was choking you earlier, this time with the intent to be pleasurable for you. Couple that with Seonghwa pressing down on your stomach where you could feel Yunho bulging it out with each thrust, you felt completely fucked dumb.

Just let them do what they want to you, because at least they wanted you. Tears sprung in your eyes, from the pleasure, pain, and raw emotion that began to surface.

Seonghwa wiped them away, now kneeling before you and cupping your face in his hands. Finally you moved your own hands, grabbing his biceps to hold on as both you and the bed rocked harder from Yunho’s growing erratic thrusts. “It’s alright Angel, we’ll take care of you.” His soft words were a harsh comparison to Yunho’s roughness.

You couldn’t formulate any words as another climax hit you, this time your vision becoming hazy as your eyes rolled back. Fucked through your orgasm, as soon as Yunho’s hips stopped their assault you blacked out, the last things you felt were hot cum filling your womb and gentle kisses on your face.

In the darkness of your mind, both warmths eluded you… drowned out by how utterly broken you felt.

Taglist (Capped): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse

| @philijack | @lelaleleb | @isiloiale | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames

| @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630

| @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive |  @fatalt | @iwishiwasrichasfuck

| @bitchwhytho | @st4rhwa | @thesafecafe | @alextheweeb7 | @ddaeing

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!

[dereks-unrelenting-heart]

SFTH Chaotic Highlights (OMG Is This A Joke)

Alright, I'm finally starting to make these for the longforms! These are gonna be quite a bit longer than the other two I've made, since these videos are (typically) longer and I have a lot of thoughts about them lol (edit while writing, less than halfway through the video - yeah, I have way more to say than I thought I would)

Before I even get into the video itself, I just love the bold move of having their first Youtube longform be one about nazis, let's people know the kind of humor they'll be getting from these guys lmao

Also shout out to the not insignificant number of people who fully didn't recognize AJ with hair

Luke's executive decision to grab a prop gun and just stand there like 🧍🏼

"If he was only a foot and a half taller, he would be a perfect nazi!" Still one of my favorite Luke short jokes, because if I was him I genuinely wouldn't know how to take that observation-

Not sure why Sam chose the puffy purple jacket for his villain character, but at least we get to call him Ze Blackberry now

I'd like to imagine as Sam was introducing himself, he looked over to Luke like 'oh shit right, he's still just fucking standing there, I should probably include him somehow' and to Sam that ofc meant flirting with him

Which btw is the strangest flirting attempt I've ever seen- "Beautiful little pocket-sized Aryan" and "Sexy little ferret" ?? Guys I've never flirted with anyone but I don't think he's doing it right

"Guten Abend" Luke/Hans isn't good at this flirting thing either, but at least they're both having fun

Two French brothers casually parachuting over Berlin during World War II, nothing weird about that

"Ja- yes- er, oui! I'm trilingual, I'm sorry" Idk if it's the language confusion or the fact he apologized to the nazi, but this was a great line

"The plan is working perfectly, we're making them uncomfortable. Keep it up!" Luke, who has done very little in that regard except respond to Sam: "Okay!!" *just keeps standing there*

"Hard day being a nazi?" Considering you're currently giving him a backrub and are probably about to fuck him, I'd say he's having a pretty good day

Before Luke's BAFTA winning portrayals of grief in The Evil Make-A-Wish Kid and The Grape Depression, we had AJ's sobbing in OMGITAJ

So glad this play was set mainly in France so AJ could show off his French knowledge in the best ways (skipping across the stage and singing)

Sam characteristically entering briefly as an unspecified beast that for simplicity I'm going to call a ram

Genuinely one of my favorite and most underappreciated moments in the video is Katherine assigning Luke's character a feminine name, which he clearly didn't expect, and he just takes a moment to reevaluate life, while staring at the comedically placed banana in his hand. 10/10 fantastic bit

"My husband has been captured" "You know this for sure?" "Well he didn't come home and he's a French spy so" Fair logic that was 100% correct

"I already have a husband" "Well Xavier will have to wait until he's officially dead then" rip Jean-Luc man, at least Sarah seems to genuinely love him and be loyal though, good for them

Tag yourself, I'm AJ fangirling heavy over Xavier as he walks onstage

"I could have mimed it but I did not" has and forever will live in my brain rent free, bro had no reason to do that but took the fucking opportunity

Also Sarah's friend (did she ever get a name?) is simping for Xavier more than Sarah herself, they could've just fucked instead

"I don't know the French word for mice" "C'est une souris, une souris, une souris" French lessons with AJ

I've already made a whole post about my love for pre-reveal Xavier, but jesus, can you blame me? This character is the actual reason I started being attracted to Tom in the first place, why is he so SMOOTH-

Also the fact Luke didn't even flinch when Tom tilted his chair back and just nonchalantly crossed his legs- This whole scene is perfect istg

"I'm just going to take a few pictures-" That's so real of you girl

"I am a man" Gonna start saying this in front of the mirror as affirmations in the morning, same tone and everything

Tom launching himself across the stage before he even has the chance to rebutton his shirt lol

"Look out! It's the nazi-looking guy!" Saying this about the actual nazi is so funny

Not me being genuinely kinda sad about François getting killed

Katherine getting into Sam's carriage with a pumpkin (For some reason??) and Sam pausing not once, but twice, and eventually deciding to proceed as normal and not question it

Jean-Luc: *crying because trauma* Katherine: "Aw.. If you're thirsty you could drink it!" Katherine might've earned her place as my favorite 5th SFTH member they've had

Big Hans showing up with an entirely different vibe from the last time we saw him- Maybe because he's not busy being gay with Ze Blackberry

But really, why is this nazi boy so excited about the french language while he's taking over their country

"Les coqs :D" Sir what is this energy you're putting out, it's confusing me

I like that instead of just saying something like "It's a French horse, why do I care if I kicked it" he's just like "German horses wouldn't give a shit, your horses are just weak"

"Very hairy chickens you have here" A joke they couldn't have made now-

I'd just like to point out that Big Hans didn't get shot from what I could tell, so he could technically still be alive. Idk what to do with that information, I just wanted it out there

Tom pulling his classic sexy-character move: Foot dramatically placed on chair

The cleaner just being like "what a fucking mess, god I hate my job" as if Xavier and Sarah aren't currently having a whole plot-altering revelation in the same room

Oh yeah, and this is also the moment I was very relieved Sarah was a better person than me (/hj) and didn't sleep with Xavier

Also, mostly unrelated, but Katherine's voice specifically as the cleaner reminds me of DHMIS every single time and idk why

"Are you quite finished??" "... Honestly, no"

"But who would do that? Who would do- It was me" He tried to be mysterious but Xavier really wanted credit for what he did

Sam the Ram returns! Very cool that their first video had classics of all kinds: Sam being a chaotic animal, AJ getting to be French, Tom being a sexy German, and Luke being an equally-attractive-but-not-quite-as-played-up woman

"I was tortured by two men gettig with each other next to me" "They're always doing that, the nazis" If SFTH can make nazis gay af, they truly can do anything

Why does Ram-Sam look so offended on behalf of the French after Luke's "It's in my nature" line lmaoo

"Where did you get my dildo!?" Amazing line from Luke, but really what was that thing??

And ofc Xavier dies as he lived.. Shirtless. Sexy evil bastard-

[iamquiantrelle]

ROSY DELUSIONS •────── iamquiantrelle

# pairing: eduardo camavinga x black reader (spring has sprung series)

# tags: @irishmanwhore @kj77 @oceanfanatic06 @snowseasonmademe @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @thepointlessideas

# summary: Eduardo has always been her best friend—the one constant in her life, the person who knows her better than anyone. So when she starts gushing about a new guy she’s dating, he does what any good friend would do: listens, smiles, and pretends it doesn’t bother him. But the more he hears, the more he realizes—no one will ever know her like he does, no one will ever care for her the way he does. Maybe she’s blinded by the idea of something new, or maybe she just doesn’t see what’s been right in front of her all along. Either way, Eduardo is done playing the role of the best friend. It’s time for her to see him in a different light.

"Celmi," you called, letting yourself into his apartment with the key he'd given you last year. "You home?"

Music was blaring – some Afrobeats track he'd been obsessed with lately – but no response came. Typical Eduardo, lost in his own world again.

You followed the sound through his ridiculously spacious Madrid villa, finding him in the kitchen, dancing while making... something. His dreads were pulled back in a messy bun, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, completely oblivious to your presence as he stirred whatever concoction he was working on.

For a moment, you just watched him – this 6'0" professional footballer with all the grace in the world on the pitch and absolutely none in the kitchen. Eduardo Camavinga, your best friend for the past three years.

You smiled, remembering how it all started...

Three years earlier

"That's the last pair in a 10," the sales associate said apologetically, pointing to the sneakers another customer was currently examining.

You groaned internally. You'd been waiting for this release for months, saved up specifically for these limited edition kicks. And now some guy with dreads was holding them, turning them over in his hands like he wasn't even sure he wanted them.

"Excuse me," you said, approaching him with what you hoped was a friendly smile. "Are you planning to buy those?"

He looked up, surprised, a grin automatically spreading across his face. "Yeah, they're the last in my size."

"Your size is a women's 10?" you asked skeptically, eyeing his considerably larger feet.

He laughed. "Men's 9. Same thing."

"So you know they're unisex?"

"Yeah." He looked confused now. "Why?"

"Because I've been waiting for these for months, and they're my size too." You tried to keep your voice even. "And it kind of looks like you're not even sure you want them."

"Who says I'm not sure?" His accent thickened slightly with defensiveness, French undertones becoming more pronounced. "I want them."

"You were looking at them like you were debating."

"I was admiring," he corrected. "Big difference."

The sales associate looked increasingly uncomfortable. "Perhaps we can check other stores—"

"I was here first," the guy said, not rudely but firmly.

"By like two minutes!"

"Still counts."

You weren't typically confrontational, but something about his easy confidence, the way he seemed to expect things to just go his way, made you stand your ground.

"Do you even know what makes this release special?" you challenged.

His eyebrows shot up. "The Air cushioning, the limited colorway, and the fact they're the first collaboration with—"

"Okay, so you know your stuff," you conceded. "But I'd still rock them better."

A surprised laugh escaped him. "Bold claim."

"I can back it up."

Something shifted in his expression – amusement, maybe respect. "Tell you what," he said, "why don't we—"

But you never found out what his solution was going to be because a small crowd had gathered now, a few people whispering excitedly, one teenager nudging another.

"It's Camavinga," someone said, and suddenly you realized why he looked vaguely familiar.

The guy – Eduardo Camavinga, apparently a football player based on the reaction – looked mildly annoyed at the interruption. The sales associate, sensing a potential scene, stepped in.

"Perhaps both of you could try another location? We can call ahead—"

"Keep them," Eduardo said suddenly, handing the shoes to you. "But only if you let me buy you coffee and explain why they'd look better on me."

You blinked, thrown by the unexpected offer. "You're asking me out?"

"I'm suggesting a debate over coffee." His grin was back, somehow both confident and boyish. "Unless you're scared I'll convince you."

"In your dreams," you said, but you were smiling now too. "Fine. Coffee. And I'm keeping the shoes."

"Deal."

Present day

"Yo, Celmi!" you tried again, louder this time.

He spun around, wooden spoon in hand, face lighting up with that infectious smile that hadn't changed since that first day.

"Shit! When'd you get here?" He turned down the music with his free hand. "I'm making that Angolan dish my mom showed me."

"It smells..." you searched for a diplomatic word, "interesting."

"Shut up, it's gonna be fire." He pointed the spoon at you accusingly, spattering something red on the floor. "You're just mad I didn't warn you I was cooking."

"Last time you 'cooked' we had to order pizza at midnight because whatever you made was straight trash."

"That was different. I was experimenting." He turned back to his pot, adding something that looked suspiciously like way too much spice. "This is a family recipe."

"Uh-huh." You dropped onto his couch, kicking your shoes off and making yourself at home like you always did. "How was training?"

"Good, good." His voice carried from the kitchen. "Carlo says I'm starting against Valencia."

"Look at you! Starting two matches in a row?"

"Don't sound so surprised!" He peeked around the corner, pretending to be offended. "I'm kind of a big deal, you know."

You rolled your eyes, but the pride was evident in your voice. "Yeah, yeah, superstar."

This was your rhythm with Eduardo. The easy banter, the comfortable silence that sometimes fell between conversations, the way you could show up unannounced and it was never a problem. He was your person – the one who'd held you through breakups, celebrated your victories, listened to your fears at 3 AM.

Just friends, you always told people who assumed otherwise. Just really good friends who happened to spend most of their free time together. Who occasionally fell asleep on each other's couches, or sometimes in each other's beds after movie marathons. No big deal.

It hadn't always been this easy. After that first coffee – which turned into lunch, which turned into exchanging numbers – you'd been wary. Not just because he was a professional footballer, but because guys who looked like Eduardo Camavinga rarely wanted to just be friends with girls.

But that's exactly what happened. Texting turned into hanging out turned into a genuine friendship that surprised you both with its depth and ease. He wasn't what you'd expected from a football star – he was goofy, thoughtful, surprisingly deep when the situation called for it.

"So," he called from the kitchen, "how was your date last night?"

Right. The date. The reason you'd actually come over.

"About that..." You sat up straighter, excitement bubbling through you. "I need to tell you everything."

Eduardo appeared in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral. "That good, huh?"

"Celmi, he's amazing." The words tumbled out, enthusiasm impossible to contain. "Like, seriously amazing. We talked for four hours and it felt like minutes. He's smart and funny and he does that nonprofit work I told you about, the one with refugee kids?"

"Sounds perfect," Eduardo said, returning to his pot. "What's his name again?"

"Karim. He's Algerian-French, grew up in Lyon." You followed him into the kitchen, perching on a counter. "And get this – he doesn't even care about football. Like, at all. Didn't even recognize me from any of the team events I've been to with you."

Eduardo's stirring rhythm faltered slightly. "Wow. A unicorn."

"I know, right? No awkward questions about getting him tickets or introducing him to the team." You swung your legs, caught up in the excitement of someone new. "We're going out again tomorrow night."

"Fast work." He glanced at you, something unreadable flickering across his features. "Must really like him."

"I think I do." You paused, watching him cook. "You okay with that?"

Eduardo looked up, surprise evident. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. You seem..." You gestured vaguely. "Weird."

"I'm good." His smile returned, bright as ever, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just focused on not burning this."

"Need any help?"

"From you?" He laughed, the tension dissipating. "The girl who set pasta on fire?"

"That was one time!"

"One time is enough when it comes to kitchens." He bumped you with his hip. "Go sit. Tell me more about Mr. Perfect."

So you did. You told him about Karim's work, his travels, his ambitions. You told him about the restaurant he'd taken you to, tucked away in a corner of Madrid you'd never explored. You told him about the easy conversation, the lingering touches, the goodnight kiss that promised more.

And Eduardo listened. He always listened. Stirring his pot, adding ingredients, occasionally asking questions, but mostly just letting you talk. It was one of the things you loved most about him – how he gave you space to process out loud, to explore your thoughts without judgment.

By the time dinner was ready – surprisingly edible this time – you'd exhausted the topic of Karim. The conversation shifted to Eduardo's upcoming match, to the latest drama with his teammates, to the movie you'd both been meaning to watch.

Normal. Comfortable. Exactly what you needed after the nervous excitement of a promising date.

Later, sprawled on his couch watching the film, your head in his lap while his fingers absently played with your hair, you felt that familiar contentment that only came with Eduardo. The ease of being with someone who knew all your stories, all your quirks, all your flaws, and liked you anyway.

"Celmi?"

"Hmm?" His eyes didn't leave the screen, but his fingers continued their gentle movement through your hair.

"I'm glad I have you."

Now he looked down, his expression soft in the dim light. "You always will."

Something in his tone made you glance up, but his attention was already back on the movie, his face revealing nothing.

Just friends, you reminded yourself. That's all this was. All it had ever been.

No matter what your heart sometimes whispered in moments like these.

______________________________________________

Eduardo was used to being watched. On the pitch, every move scrutinized by thousands of eyes. In public, the subtle recognition, the whispered "isn't that...?" But nothing compared to the intensity of Aurélien's stare across the training facility locker room.

"What?" Eduardo finally asked, pausing in lacing up his boots.

"You're doing it again," Aurélien said simply.

"Doing what?"

"That thing where you pretend you're fine but you're actually dying inside." Aurélien dropped onto the bench beside him. "She went out with him again, didn't she?"

Eduardo sighed. Of course Aurélien would notice. The man missed nothing, on or off the pitch. "Third date tonight."

"And you're still playing the supportive best friend?"

"What else am I supposed to do?"

"Oh, I don't know," Aurélien's voice dripped sarcasm, "maybe tell her how you feel? Crazy concept, I know."

Eduardo shook his head, returning to his boots. "It's not that simple."

"It literally is that simple. 'Hey, I'm in love with you, have been for years, please stop dating this random guy and date me instead.'"

"I'm not in love with her," Eduardo protested automatically.

Aurélien's eyebrow rose in perfect disbelief.

"We're friends," Eduardo insisted. "Best friends."

"Best friends who practically live at each other's places? Who call each other first with every piece of news? Who fell asleep cuddling on my couch at the last team party?"

"Friends can cuddle."

"Celmi." Aurélien rarely used his middle name – that was your thing. Coming from him, it felt like a warning. "You're not fooling anyone but yourself. And maybe her."

Eduardo stood, needing to move, to escape this conversation. "Even if you're right – which you're not – she's clearly into someone else right now."

"Someone she's known for what, a week? Versus you, who she's known for years?"

"Exactly! Years of friendship. Years of her seeing me as just Eduardo, her buddy, her pal." He grabbed his water bottle, frustration building. "If she was going to see me differently, don't you think it would have happened by now?"

Aurélien shrugged. "Maybe she's waiting for you to make a move. Maybe she thinks you only see her as a friend. Maybe she's dating this guy precisely because she thinks you're not an option."

That gave Eduardo pause. Could it be possible? Had there been signs he'd missed, opportunities he'd let slip by?

He thought back to the countless movie nights, the way you'd sometimes fall asleep against him. The time you'd gotten sick and he'd stayed up all night, making sure your fever didn't spike again. The way you lit up when he entered a room, even if you'd just seen him yesterday.

No. He couldn't let himself hope like that. Couldn't risk the friendship that meant everything to him on the chance that maybe, possibly, you might see him as more than just good old reliable Eduardo.

"I'm not having this conversation," he decided, heading for the door.

"Coward," Aurélien called after him, but there was no heat in it. Just concern.

Eduardo ignored him, pushing through the door onto the training pitch where he could lose himself in the game, in the physicality and focus that left no room for complicated emotions.

But even as he ran drills, as he practiced passes with mechanical precision, his mind kept circling back to you. To how you'd sounded on the phone this morning, excited about tonight's date. To how he'd forced enthusiasm into his voice, offered advice on what to wear, promised to be waiting for the full report tomorrow.

Playing the role of the supportive best friend while something inside him cracked a little more each time.

Maybe Aurélien was right. Maybe he was a coward.

Or maybe he just knew that some risks weren't worth taking, no matter how much the reward might be.

_______________________________________________

"He's taking me to Barcelona next weekend," you said, scrolling through train options on your phone. "Just a quick overnight trip to see some art exhibition he thinks I'll love."

Eduardo nodded, trying to look interested rather than irritated. It had been two weeks since your first date with Karim, and somehow the guy was still around, still apparently perfect, still taking up more and more of the conversation every time you and Eduardo hung out.

"Sounds fun," he managed.

"You okay?" You looked up from your phone, brow furrowing with concern. "You've been weird all day."

You were at his place again, ostensibly to watch the match replay from yesterday's game, but you'd spent most of the time talking about Karim. Eduardo couldn't even blame you – new relationships were exciting, all-consuming. He knew that. He just hadn't expected it to bother him so much.

He thought back to the one serious relationship you'd had since he'd known you. That guy from your work, Adam or Alex or something. That hadn't bothered him nearly as much. But then, that guy hadn't been taking you to Barcelona or perfect in every way. That guy hadn't felt like a real threat.

"Just tired." He forced a smile. "Big match yesterday."

"You were amazing, by the way. That assist? Chef's kiss." You demonstrated, fingers to lips, then outward in appreciation.

"Thanks." His smile turned more genuine. You never missed his matches, either in person or on TV. Even with New Perfect Boyfriend in the picture, you'd still been there yesterday, cheering from the friends and family section.

"Seriously, Celmi. You're playing at another level this season."

"Finally getting the minutes I deserve," he joked, but the praise warmed him. You'd always been his biggest cheerleader, right from the beginning when you barely knew offside from a corner kick.

Two years earlier

"Wait, explain it again?" you asked, forehead creased in concentration as you watched the replay on his TV.

Eduardo fought a smile. You were so determined to understand football, despite having little natural interest in the sport. All because you wanted to be able to talk to him about his work, to share in the thing that mattered most to him professionally.

"He's offside because when the pass was made, he was behind the last defender." Eduardo pointed to the screen. "See?"

"But he wasn't when he got the ball."

"Doesn't matter. It's where he was when the pass was played."

"That's a stupid rule."

"Maybe. But it's the rule."

You threw a handful of popcorn at him. "Your sport is complicated."

"Says the girl who tried to explain the blood pressure notes to me for an hour last week."

"That's different. That actually makes sense."

He laughed, pulling you against his side without thinking. "You don't have to understand it, you know. I don't mind explaining."

"I want to, though." Your head found his shoulder naturally. "It's important to you, so it's important to me."

Something warm unfurled in his chest at your words. That was the moment, looking back, when friendship started shifting into something more – at least for him. The realization that you cared enough to learn about something that didn't interest you, simply because it mattered to him.

He'd never told you that, of course. Some things were safer kept to himself.

Present day

You set your phone down, giving him your full attention. "For real though, something's off with you. Talk to me."

This was the problem with someone knowing you too well. Nothing stayed hidden for long.

"It's nothing," he insisted. "Just... stuff on my mind."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Team stuff. Family stuff." He shrugged, avoiding your eyes. "Nothing important."

You studied him for a long moment, clearly not believing him but also not pushing. That was another thing about your friendship – knowing when to press and when to give space.

"Well, if you want to talk about it," you said finally, "I'm here."

"I know." And that was the crux of the problem, wasn't it? You were always there for him, just as he was for you. The perfect friendship. Exactly what he'd always told himself he wanted.

Until suddenly, inexplicably, it wasn't enough anymore.

"Actually," he said before he could stop himself, "there is something."

You sat up straighter, giving him your full attention. "I'm listening."

Eduardo took a deep breath. Now or never. "This thing with Karim..."

"Yeah?" Your expression was open, curious.

"Are you sure it's what you want?"

Your brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." He struggled to find the right words, to express the feelings he'd been fighting without revealing too much. "You barely know him. It's all happening so fast."

"That's usually how dating works, Celmi." There was a hint of amusement in your voice, like you thought he was being overprotective. "People meet, they click, they spend time together. Normal shit."

"I know that." He ran a hand over his dreads, frustration building. "I just... I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Who says I'm going to get hurt?"

"No one, it's just... guys like that—"

"Guys like what?" Now there was an edge to your voice. "You don't even know him."

"Exactly! And neither do you, not really. Two weeks isn't enough time to know someone, to trust them with—"

"With what, Eduardo? My heart? My body? What exactly are you worried about here?"

You were getting angry now, and he was making a mess of this, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"All of it! He's moving so fast, with the Barcelona trip and everything. What's his rush?"

"Maybe he just knows what he wants." You stood, gathering your things. "Like I do."

"And what's that?"

"Someone who sees me as more than just a friend. Someone who wants to be with me and isn't afraid to show it."

The words hit like a physical blow. Was that how you saw him? As someone who didn't want you that way? Who only saw you as a friend?

"That's not fair," he said quietly.

"No? Then what exactly are you saying, Eduardo? Because it sounds like you're telling me I shouldn't date anyone you haven't personally vetted."

"That's not—"

"Then what? What's your problem with Karim? With me dating him?"

"I don't have a problem with him!" The words exploded out of him. "I have a problem with it not being me!"

Silence fell between you, heavy and sudden. Eduardo's heart pounded in his chest, the confession hanging in the air, impossible to take back.

Your expression shifted from anger to confusion. "What?"

Too late to retreat now. Eduardo stood, moving toward you with a determination he usually reserved for the pitch.

"I said, I have a problem with it not being me. Taking you to Barcelona. Planning stuff for you. Being more than just your friend."

You stared at him, shock evident in your features. "Celmi..."

"I know, I know. Terrible timing." He ran a hand over his face. "I didn't mean to say it like this. Or at all, maybe. I don't know."

"How long?" Your voice was barely above a whisper.

"Does it matter?"

"It matters to me."

Eduardo sighed, the fight draining out of him. "I don't know exactly. It happened so gradually. One day you were just my friend, and then... you were everything."

You sat back down, looking like you needed the support. "Why didn't you say something? All this time..."

"Because what we have is good. It works. I didn't want to risk it for something that might not."

"That wasn't your decision to make alone." There was hurt in your voice now. "You never even gave me the chance to—"

"To what? Let me down gently? Tell me how much you value our friendship?" His laugh held no humor. "I've heard that speech before. Didn't particularly want to hear it from you."

"You don't know what I would have said."

"Don't I? We tell each other everything, remember? If you'd felt something, anything beyond friendship, I think I would have known."

You stood again, moving toward him now, something determined in your expression. "You don't know everything about me, Eduardo Celmi Camavinga. Not if you think I've never thought about this. About us."

His heart stuttered. "What?"

"You think you're the only one who's ever wondered? The only one who's ever lain awake thinking about what it might be like if things were different between us?"

"But you never said—"

"Neither did you!" You were right in front of him now, close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in your eyes, the slight tremble in your lips. "We were both too afraid of ruining what we had. So we just... stayed safe. In this comfortable friendship where we could have almost everything without risking anything."

Eduardo's mind was racing, trying to process what you were saying. Had you really felt the same way? For how long?

"And then Karim came along," you continued, "and he was straightforward about what he wanted. No guessing, no reading between the lines. It was... refreshing."

"So you do like him." The realization settled like a weight in his chest.

"I like the clarity." Your hand came up to rest on his chest, right over his heart. "But Celmi... it's always been you. Even when I tried to convince myself otherwise."

Time seemed to stop as Eduardo processed your words. You'd felt it too. All this time, while he was playing the role of the supportive best friend, you'd been harboring the same feelings, the same fears.

"So what now?" he asked, hardly daring to believe this was real.

"Now?" A small smile played at your lips. "Now you should probably kiss me. Before I change my mind and go back to the guy who was brave enough to ask me out in the first place."

Eduardo didn't need to be told twice. His hands came up to frame your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks with a gentleness that belied the storm of emotion inside him.

"Bossy as always," he murmured, earning a laugh from you that he captured with his lips.

The kiss was everything he'd imagined and nothing like he'd expected. Familiar, because it was you – the same you he'd hugged a thousand times, the same you whose head had rested on his shoulder during movie nights. But also entirely new, a revelation, a beginning.

When you finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, the look in your eyes was worth every moment of uncertainty, every pang of jealousy, every fear he'd battled to get to this point.

"I should probably cancel that Barcelona trip," you said, a smile spreading across your face.

"Probably," he agreed, pulling you closer. "Or we could go instead. I know this great little spot near La Rambla..."

Your laugh was warm against his chest. "Always competing."

"Only when it matters." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "And you matter more than anything."

It wasn't how he'd planned to tell you. Wasn't the perfect moment he'd sometimes imagined. But as you stood in his living room, wrapped in each other's arms, Eduardo knew that sometimes the best things happen not according to plan, but according to heart.

And his heart had always belonged to you, his best friend, his person, now something even more precious – his everything.

_______________________________________________

When Eduardo told the story later, he always ended with the shoes.

"She still has them," he'd say, arm draped around your shoulders. "Never wears them though."

"They're collector's items now!" you'd protest.

"They're shoes. They're meant to be worn."

"Says the guy with fifty pairs he keeps in boxes."

"That's different." He'd press a kiss to your temple. "Those are investments."

"These are memories," you'd counter.

And he couldn't argue with that. Those shoes – the ones you'd almost fought him for in a boutique three years ago – had changed everything. Had led to coffee, to friendship, to love.

Had led to him finally seeing what had been right in front of him all along.

[killuintense]

❝ tell me you are mine ❞

stepdad!leon x fem!reader.

summary: you just wanted he to be yours, one more night, one last night... just one last one, right?

content: 3.9k words, angst and little comfort, porn with plot, p in v, unprotected sex, doggy style, oral (m receiving), reader rides Leon, breeding kink, size kink, stepcest, age gap (reader ALWAYS +18), real daddy kink yk (not only in the sexual way)

note: i bring the third part because i see that you like it a lot uwu, i hope you enjoy it even though i'm a dramatic as fuck. all your reblogs and comments are well received !! ily'all. ♡

THE CHAPTER IS BEING CORRECTED AND EDITED TO AVOID GRAMMATICAL ERRORS, so i'm sorry if there are parts that are not very understandable uwu.

"Thank you for accompany me..." you said in a soft voice, and your eyes slipped out the window, blonde hair peeking out made you smile in a mischievous way.

"It's okey... I wouldn't want to let you walk around alone" said Mike, your college mate, with whom you had finished a project that very day and, therefore, the hours had passed so fast that when you wanted to realize it the sun had already said goodbye. And, ever the gentleman, he offered to accompany you to your place of residence.

You knew that Leon was looking out the window, attentive to how his little daughter took the boy's arm with her hands and caressed him with feigned innocence. Your companion immediately tensed, laughing softly with you, and before you could even get any closer than you were the door opened with a swiftness worthy of your stepfather. Come on, he wasn't a government agent just for the hell of it.

"Inside" his voice was low and he didn't bother to greet the young man in front of him, who with an uncomfortable look said goodbye to you as best he could and took off, rather uneasily. And he was no less, a man of 6'4", with large arms and breasts that drew a menacing stance. That is until you looked at his eyes, his furrowed brows and the sharpness of his gaze that made you shiver. But, even though Mike flew away in fear, you could only feel your panties getting wet, making you sigh.

You didn't let him notice, at least not that much, and just walked in gently pushing the older man's shoulder in annoyance "Thanks for scaring the fuck out of my partner" you grumbled, arms crossed and the tantrum tone made Leon snort, closing the door behind him. Yes, you were his lovely girl but you could also be fucking capricious a lot of the time, going so far as to disobey. He blamed your mother for that behavior, anyway.

"We already talked about how dangerous being late is, and you keep doing the same thing" his tone was harsh and impatience was starting to show, which deep down made you stir because, well, pissing Leon off was a hard thing to do and you were pulling it off without trying very hard.

"Mike walked me here!" you argued with him, stomping your foot on the floor and feeling your hormones flutter in your stomach. You just wanted him to shut the fuck up and stop talking to you with that worry and demand in his tone of voice, all it accomplished was to send your body into a state of confusion. Where you were fighting with yourself about whether that discomfort in him made you feel worried or... horny.

"I don't like that boy walking around after you, you know I can't leave you in the hands of just anyone..." his tone softened and he tried to move closer to you, wanting to rest his hand on your waist, but you were exalted enough to let him touch you. You were too weak before him, holy shit.

"Leon" you emphasized, moving away only a few slight steps. His blond eyebrows rose in surprise "It's my life, you know that, don't you?" you crossed your arms over your chest and sighed "I'm not a child...or why can you have a normal life with my mother and I have to be left waiting for you?" your words seemed to sink deep into Leon. His gaze contracted and he sighed, causing him to take a full upright posture.

"Your mother or I will pick you up at the university, no more delays... and NO more classmates escorting you to the front door, got it?" his tone of voice rose and you felt the lump in your throat tighten, causing you to step forward, desperate, trapped. You wanted to hit him, you wanted to ruin him and make him regret his stupid words. But at the same time you wanted everything to go back to the way it was a few hours before; just to have him to yourself and to take care of you the way only he knew how.

But this was getting out of hand. Both of them.

"Fuck you, Leon" you uttered, not a word more, not a word less. Your posture remained the same, both of you staring at each other in a battle of who had more pride. But you were competing with Leon Stubborn Kennedy, that was going to be fucked up.

"What did you say, brat?" he raised an eyebrow and took a step forward but you got ahead by walking up the stairs, leaving him with the words in his mouth "Who the hell do you think you are for-"

"Fuck you! That's what I mean!" you shouted, almost unintentionally but... you broke free, you could almost feel the tears threatening to explode in your eyes.

"If you think you can do what you want you are wrong, it's my fucking house and you will do what I tell you" his voice was hard, you had never, seriously, never heard him talk to you like that. In his posture, look, presence there were no traces of the loving and caring father that Leon was, but rather of a hard and strict father... almost like your biological father, let's say "If you think you can bring any asshole to the door of my house and make little scenes throwing yourself on him, get those ideas out of your fucking head!" he seemed exasperated, but those last words ended up spilling the glass, leaving you with your heart in your hand. But you could only squeeze it and put it aside, but fuck your heart.

"And you get it out of your fucking head that you can fuck me and then go on with your life normally!" you ran up the stairs as fast as you could and with a loud bang you slammed the door. Your heart was pounding and tears were already inevitable, streaming down your red cheeks even though you were trying to be strong and not fall.

Leon downstairs was trying to understand how everything had escalated into such a fight. What was going on in your mind that suddenly things had become so distorted; with him and you saying hurtful things to each other that didn't even make sense.

However, that situation from the night before had been going around in your mind all day long. You had gone out in the middle of the night to get a glass of water, thinking that Leon and your mother were already sleeping, but the dim light and sound of the television made you you will go down slowly to the stairs and you saw them both comfortably on the sofa. Leon lying on her chest while she gently stroked his hair. You felt your heart being pierced by a painful pang that left you breathless for a few seconds. You felt envy, hatred, and sorrow that made you feel guilt and desire at the same time. Envy of your mother, for not being the one who would be in her place, and that hatred mixed with sadness for knowing that, even if you tried, you would never be the most important woman in Leon's life. You would not be the one bound to him with vows of loyalty and love. You were simply that morbid sensation that probably excited him, but you couldn't blame him because even if you tried to push him away and ignore him, the addiction to the sensations that being with him generated in you were simply... desperate, overwhelming but beautiful.

You had no choice but to go to bed with tears in your eyes and waking up the next morning with the news that your mother would be absent that weekend, and then it made more sense for you to be together that night. And you couldn't believe that you were more attentive to how much time Leon decided to spend with his wife than you were to the thought that you would miss your mother in her absence.

And the guilt returned.

And it lingered and distressed you. Making you feel alone, without the arms of someone to shelter you. Looking to any foolish boy you came across for some of that warmth that Leon was able to give you. And really... no one was able to love you as much as he did.

Sometimes you hated yourself and the habit of needing a cool glass of water very late at night. But there you were again praying to God that he wasn't in the room. However, it seemed that day was not a lucky one, and Leon's blond hair was illuminated by the dim warm light of the lamp, matching the low sound of the TV. As soon as you came downstairs with the greatest care of all, you saw how he stirred on the couch, probably waking up from his soft reverie.

You ignored him, you were just looking for water and that was it, you didn't have to see each other and he didn't have to get up. You opened the fridge, took a glass and poured the water gently so as not to make too much noise. And there it was again. That soft scent of expensive whiskey, his stubble a few days old against your neck and his arms wrapped around. There was the reason for your lack of compromise, you couldn't resist him and you were sure he felt you leaning your back against his chest, closing your eyes slowly.

"I don't want to talk to you if you're drunk..." you murmured, the sigh was inevitable, but you didn't move an inch away. You could feel Leon's arms squeeze you tighter and his soft lips leave a trail of wet kisses down the curve of your neck. As if you were going to run away again and that alone was enough to make you stay. And it was.

"I'm not... I barely tasted a sip" his voice drowned out by the kisses he was leaving you, his citrus yet sweet scent intruding on your skin to mark you and leave his scent on you "but i really need to talk to you, baby, I didn't mean to sound that way and I don't want you to feel that way about this either" contradictory to his words, you turned around without leaving his arms, and rested your tired head on his chest. You were his little girl and he was going to take care of you, right? You just wanted to ignore reality for one night.

"It's impossible for me not to feel that way, Leon" your hands clutched the fabric of his shirt, shortening the space between you even more "I just... I don't want to think, I don't want to concentrate on that anymore... I just want to be yours for one more night and for you to be mine. But only mine, you know what I mean?" your face lifted gently and you stopped holding back, seeking his lips with a thirst to taste him.

"I'm yours..." he murmured, their mouths brushing inches away from colliding and sinking into a kiss "but it's just that despair me that anyone else is near you, that anyone can smell you, feel you, hurt you" you licked his lower lip and sucked the spot gently, without it turning into a kiss "I'll be yours as many times as it takes" he moaned in desperation, opening his mouth as soon as you initiated a kiss just as desperate as the first time.

The disorder, the chaos, the whirlwind of sensations, on the contrary, calmed your mind. You stopped putting pressure on yourself wondering if it was right, if the two of you could maybe at some point be something more, or if it was just the thrill of the moment and he would leave you like everyone else who had passed through your life. You only wanted him for you, you wanted there to be no other woman in his life but you, you would give him reasons so he couldn't forget you. Yes, maybe that night or the next night would be the last, but you would be so marked in him that he would never be able to erase you.

Your kisses were his addiction, the endless missions where he didn't have you like at that moment made him go crazy; that he thought about leaving everything that at some point meant something just for you. He lived to have you on him like that moment. Both of you on the soft couch, his hands massaging the soft flesh of your ass while you ate his mouth like your favorite dessert. You felt small on top of him, but you didn't stop pushing him to the limit for it; you wanted in a way to punish him, to ruin him for making you feel so displaced from his life, and Leon just wanted you to stay close to him, to stick like gum to his shoe and chase him to hell if possible. That's where you both belonged, he thought.

"Fuck, just let me touch you more" he moaned, your tongues caressing each other slowly now, as if savoring that thing about both of you that you hadn't been able to taste in days. Your hands caressed his cheeks and traveled to Leon's hair, massaging the trails left by those golden but opaque strands. Your kisses moved slowly and wetly down their neck, you heard them gasp low even and could feel the inside of your thighs collide with the hardness of his cock. You were both wet but your kisses stopped when one of his long, thick fingers wanted to intrude into your shorts, brushing against your entrance.

"If you keep going, I'm leaving" the stiffness of his body was instantly felt, and like a dumb hound he searched your eyes trying to understand what he did wrong, but you weren't going to let him go so easily "You know, dad..." you began, moving his hands away leaving them at the sides of his body while your right took his fat piece and squeezed it gently above the fabric "I like everything about you, really.... down to the smallest detail, but I have to admit... God, your cock is one of my favorite things" your tone of voice interspersed with a moan made Leon sigh, the sound was heavy and husky, and you even saw his length startle gently. Your mouth watered, you felt your body go into desperation from the desire to drown with him.

"You're going to fucking make me explode..." Leon moaned, throwing your head back, bumping against the back of the couch as he lifted your hips in desperation and impatience. Your soft and playful giggle made him curse under his breath, your fingers running along his veins that bulged through the stain on his boxers which you soon undid, and he helped you as fast as he had the chance. You licked from his base to his glans, red, wet and dripping. You gave soft kisses, loving that part of him that always made you feel full, complete. It was that part of Leon that reminded you that he was a man, that he could protect you, but that he could make you tremble until you couldn't stand it anymore.

"Do you want me to squeeze you, daddy?" you sucked on his tip like your favorite popsicle, moaning as your hands cradled his balls and fondled them, they felt hot and heavy, and your insides contracted into nothingness itself imagining the amount of milk you would have to milk for him later. "This dick is only mine, isn't it? Only your pretty daughter's" the saliva barely let you speak, because your head bobbed up and down on the hot, wet flesh, blessing it with your tight throat.

"Only yours, baby, no one else's" Leon moaned, his hands itching from not being able to grab you by the head and plunge you deeper onto his fucking cock, to make it even clearer to you "My cock only cums for you, love, fuck, I just want to fuck you until you pass out" he gave a gentle lunge as his tone of voice shook as if he had run a marathon for hours, and the throbbing of his cock in the hollowness of your cheeks only made you smile wider.

You pulled away and wiped the saliva and precum from the corner of your lips savoring your stepfather's arousal "Sometimes you act like I'm not the only one, and that makes me feel bad" a soft pout played on your lips as you looked at them with sorrow, real sorrow. Ruined and sweaty with his bangs sticking to his forehead as he struggled not to send everything to shit and masturbate looking at your pretty body in front of him. "C'mon, Leon, show me that your cock is only mine and nothing else" you whispered, a secret between the two of you, and before you could finish the sentence your shorts disappeared from your legs and your chest stuck to the couch. You moaned as Leon's hands didn't know where to start, they didn't know whether to rip your shirt off, whether to touch your tits, he didn't know what the fuck to do. He was an animal desperate to make you his in a thousand possible ways.

Before your head could understand what had happened because of that sudden change, the martyrizing emptiness of just a few moments ago disappeared. The silence and tension was immediately cut off with a moan from Leon and you in unison and a thrust caused your legs to falter. He had to hold you from your waist to keep you from collapsing, causing your back to crash against his chest, tearing your throat into a moan as he pulled out completely and thrust back in "My cock is made to go in your fucking pussy” he growled from deep in his chest “Damn, you always let me fuck you so good, brat" his words sounded harsh against your ear as he buried his face in the crook of your neck sinking into your messy falling hair, breathing in that sweet scent that warmed him so much.

Lunge after lunge your body bounced, your shirt was gone from your body and his hands squeezed your tits as you gasped heavily “Dad-... Fuck! Yes!" slammed against your spot, against that button that gave him the power to fuck you any way he wanted. And there you were, on all fours like a fucking bitch in heat moaning so loud that anyone passing in front of the house would worry about what was going on inside.

Before he could increase the speed of his onslaught, you broke free of his grip and, much to your dismay, pulled his cock out of you. The sticky sound stopped for a few seconds but Leon didn't even have a moment to ask what was going on, before you spoke "Just... sit..." you could almost hear him object to this, but you were so high on his scent that you still felt his hands squeezing your hips and the sensation of your empty entrance was driving you crazy "Just, sit, please" you whimpered and turned around, trying not to fall. He closed his mouth and sat down.

Oh, for the love of God.

He looked so... you didn't know what, but him, with his thighs open, his shirt off revealing his chest rising and falling in the frenzy of the moment and his cock jerking desperate for a place to bury itself. So desperate to bury itself in you. And you were in no position to deny him; it was easy for you to climb on top of him -who was quick to hold your body in his hands- and line his cock up at your entrance, gently penetrating yourself. Leon's eyes narrowed and his mouth stretched into a grimace as he hissed, and you in your disconnected state couldn't help but melt at that image, the lines of expression at the side of his mouth, his jaw contracting and relaxing as the two of you became connected once more.

Connection intermingled with a constant back and forth of sensations, you jumped on top of him as you sought his lips, dizzy from the constant twinges that swirled in your belly down to your throbbing core "Mhm, mine, you're mine" you moaned into his mouth, you held his chin in your left hand as the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs echoed through the house joining his grunts and his saliva as he sucked on your tits, sucking on your nipples with no thought of the marks he would leave on you later.

"Yours, ‘m fuckin’ yours" his pelvis lifted and penetrated even harder, you could feel the head of his cock give into your stomach, he ravaged your womb each time his hips lifted and ground against your sweet spot, stealing moans from you uncontrollably. His hand squeezed your hip and as you felt the frenetic thrusts you could feel how he was only a few more strokes away from exploding in you. He looked like a child clinging to his favorite stuffed animal, hugging you tightly as he buried his face in your tits but at the same time fucking you with a force that you knew sooner or later would make it difficult for you to walk.

You wanted to go on, you needed to go on, but you didn't know at what moment -nor how, without needing to touch yourself- you were spilling all over the cock of your stepfather, of the man who opened his arms to you in a brotherly way every time you needed him. But there you were, getting him all wet as drops trickled down your thighs and stained the couch a little. The overstimulation was getting too much, you felt ruined and before you could moan again Leon filled you with his creamy seed without being able to help it. He didn't come out and cum on your face, tits or abdomen, no, he let all that tension and despair fill you. He didn't want to fight you again, he wanted to be inside you more than anything else, and filling you, letting you squeeze him until he squeezed out the last drop, was a sign of his desperation "I..." he gasped and crushed himself more and more slowly against your entrance already without strength, just to not let anything escape -which was impossible, he really had a lot to get out- "I really love you" he sighed, without stopping hugging you. You wanted to respond and say that you too, that you loved him madly, that you would give up everything to be able to wake up next to him every morning. But your body could only lie down on the couch and open your arms, offering him your warmth. You needed to give him your warmth before you became conscious again.

It was probably very late at night, and both Leon and you were on the couch resting your devastated bodies. You had that man, as intimidating as he could often be, lying on your chest sleeping peacefully. His heavy breathing made you understand that he was in a deep and undisturbed sleep, and that only made your heart squeeze. You knew he could be very stiff and tense, always alert, but having him asleep between your legs while allowing you to caress him and stroke his hair so naturally, made you feel love.

Love.

It was specific to feel that. You loved loving Leon, in all his ways. You loved when he put aside the paperwork to take you to your favorite coffee shop, when on his missions he remembered you and brought you a present -you loved that brown teddy bear he brought you from San Francisco-, or when you felt overwhelmed by college and he helped you study by sitting for hours to listen to you tell him everything you knew. Maybe it was your silly, lovesick girl imagination, but you saw that love in his eyes, a mixture of brotherly pride and... maybe something else. Something else you could feel it when they have sex, when just sleepily fuck in the mornings when your mother is not around, and you feel how he penetrates you as if you were going to break and he just wants to stay there, inside you, just to make sure everything is all right.

You closed your eyes and sighed. That would be the last night.

Sure, you had said that two nights ago, maybe a month ago... maybe two... but you couldn't help it. You couldn't help it if the hugs weren't enough, if his kisses left you wanting more. You were weak, weak before him. And he didn't have the strength to say no to you, he had tried a thousand times, but he would melt for you, he would kill himself for you.

You closed your eyes.

You would just forget that feeling for one more night and sink into his warmth. You didn't want to have to decide, not so soon. You just wanted to keep loving him. Just wanted to keep feeling his love.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Resident Evil Village characters with a chubby fem s/o

Dating Headcanons (+ Some bonus drabbles for a few)

Including Alcina Dimitrescu, Karl Heisenberg, Donna Beneviento, Salvatore Moreau and Mother Miranda

(Reader is somewhat coquette? Princesscore? Just the dainty feminine type)

Credits to dividers used are on this post.

Rules for requests

If you don't want to send requests through Tumblr, my Instagram is always an option.

Please interact with this post as much as possible, it helps a lot. Thank you <3

A/n: Hi lovelies, Lia here. I'm back after a long time. I hope you enjoy this post and I'll be setting up my schedule soon, I'll be posting once or twice every 1-2 week/s. If you can't tell, purple has always been my theme. I'll add more to these and edit it if I think of more to add. Any mistakes will be corrected upon checking.

This is just me but I love the concept of like a girl who is so sweet and her style just looks so fem and she's just surrounded by all the creepy things that are resident evil.

I'll be checking and if this post does well I will write more.

Warnings/Disclaimers: English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Blood, gore?, violence, typical resident evil stuff and mentions of insecurity. Slight suggestive content if you squint.

Alcina Dimitrescu

First of all despite your plush stature, she still treats you like a porcelain doll.

She just adores you so much (I mean she herself is tall and plus size).

Motherly nature and all, she has three daughters and honestly if she ever sees you interact with them. It would just warm her cadou infested heart.

Insecure about stretch marks? She'll kiss that shit away right then and there. She'll even show you hers because let's be honest here stretch marks are beautiful, you just don't like them on yourself.

Anyone insults or talks shit about you? She'll get rid of them, in any way possible depending on what they said. She'll pick a suitable punishment for them, ranges from "you're fired" to "I'm going to skin you alive and tear your heart out".

Alcina is a confident and dominant figure, she isn't swayed by something so small as beauty standards. Especially in herself, therefore I think she'd even help you build your confidence up.

Gifts galore with this woman, she love to spoil you with her riches. Loves to see you adorned with luxurious items that she give you.

Love dressing up with you, seeing you all dolled up for her. Has custom made clothes for you, sometimes opts for an outfit that matches or contrasts yours perfectly.

Knows what compliments your features best since she loves to bring them out.

Her hosting soirees and balls with you as her special guest, having you wear elegant dresses that she bought for you.

I see her as this almost touchy type. She'll love having you curl up on her lap while she gets paperwork done.

Her reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to her:

You called Alcina's attention wanting to see her reaction to the new dress you bought, Alcina's eyes lit up at your elegance and charm. She smiled warmly, taking your hand in hers. "You look enchanting, my darling," she purred, proud to have you by her side.

Karl Heisenberg

Stinky metal dilf here actually loves that you're so soft in contrast to his gruff and abrasive nature.

He hasn't had physical affection in a long time so having someone soft and warm to hold is new to him.

Karl is naturally protective over you, especially because he thinks you're fragile. I mean compared to whatever's in the village, the rest of the lords and Mother Miranda.

I bet you this man has tore down someone for you, he chopped them off limb by limb for insulting you.

I can't get enough of the dynamic you'd have. It's like the grumpy x sunshine trope, this man has a sharp tongue. Especially when you hear him insult Lady Dimitrescu.

This man has a soft spot for you, I'm pretty sure you're the only one who can make him take a bath after being all sweaty from working with machinery all day.

I feel like he has scars all of his body, especially his very toned back.

Doesn't mind you leaving scratches when you're in the bedroom

Alcina sometimes tries to piss him off by commenting at the fact that you are soft and dainty while Karl is just the opposite and offers you an opportunity to be with "Someone refined" (She ain't wrong).

It really is just to get to Karl's nerves.

His reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to him:

Karl smirked, trying to play it cool, but you could see the admiration in his eyes. "Not bad, princess," he teased, pulling you into a hug. He whispered softly, "You're somethin' special, ya know?"

Donna Beneviento

You know Donna understands what it's like being insecure about looks but to her you're just perfect in every single way.

Donna just doesn't give a shit in a good way, she doesn't judge people based on their appearance. It's dumb and shallow.

Donna would absolutely adore making clothes for you or altering your current ones. It's a skill she's proud of and seeing you appreciate it makes her all the more in love with you.

Angie has made a few comments resulting in her getting kicked off into space but once Donna warms her about that and how you don't like it, she'll stop in respect towards you. Which is rare considering how Angie is.

Donna's personal style definitely helps contrast yours, though it's the opposite from your soft light colors.

Thinks you're so pretty, she's smitten. Even though yours are different from you, she still makes use of her skills to fit your clothing tastes.

I can just imagine her staring at you in awe as you spin around and show her how the dress she made fits you. I like to think she has your measurements memorized from head to toe.

She take one look at something and already know how it would fit on you or if she needs to alter.

You once asked her to make a doll that looks like the both of you (and Angie but like a smaller version that fits the doll's arms).

Donna entered your shared bedroom to find you but noticed something on the shelves. It was the dolls she made sitting against the book. She noticed how you positioned them. Holding hand while the tiny Angie replica was on the doll version of her's lap. Donna swore at that moment she was gonna melt.

Her reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to her:

Donna's expression softened as she saw you in the vintage lace dress. She held your hand, wordlessly conveying her affection and admiration.

Salvatore Moreau

God so help him, he was flabbergasted when he first heard about your insecurity. Literally why? Like you are just the most beautiful thing that walked the planet in his eyes.

He just worships the ground you walk on, he isn't as wealthy as the other lords but still, he give you his best efforts by carving you small trinkets out of wood.

Gifts you natural things he finds like crystals and whatnot.

Best of efforts when he comforts you. Sometimes he's too scared to physically touch you because he thinks he'll hurt you.

You're relationship is filled mostly by nature, despite the wasteland that surrounds your living area. It's hauntingly beautiful in it's own way. (Some of it I suppose)

Feels more at ease around you, think about how much he wanted to just make Mother Miranda proud of him, he's that with you but 10x more the effort.

His reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to him:

Salvatore couldn't contain his delight at seeing you in the dress. "You're my beautiful water nymph princess!" he exclaimed, spinning you around with excitement.

Mother Miranda

You peeked her interest when she first saw you, I mean you're her complete opposite. She finds beauty in dark items and almost gothic stuff, so her taking an interest to you just made her even more curious.

She works a lot so gifts and trinkets to remind you of her are an occasional thing. I can just imagine you taming crows and she's just in awe.

Loyalty of crows means they leave you shiny trinkets and sometimes Miranda takes them for herself when she likes whatever they bring.

Again she's one to think you're fragile because of your style, you just look so cute and soft.

Nobody dares insult you, I mean if you really won the heart of Mother Miranda they are fucked if they even speak a little out of line.

Likes to keep you by her side despite working a lot. So you'd often be by her side during her meetings with the four lords and honestly you are such an eye candy.

Her reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to her:

Mother Miranda's composure remained regal, but her eyes showed approval. "You look exquisite" she acknowledged, holding your hand with reverence. To her, you were a jewel among mortals, deserving of admiration.

[kickbackkanzaki]

The Dungeon Master and Chess Queen

You're the new student and chess captain at Hawkins High. When Eddie Munson asks you for tutoring you're certain you have him handled but you may have underestimated his strategy.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

A/N Not so hot and heavy this chapter but I'm cooking up something for chapter four if you hang in there...

You were actually at band practice to enjoy some music and read a book on the bleachers while you waited for Robin. The two of you had a date for fries and the local bookstore afterwards but you let the onlookers believe you were there for Eddie.

"We can meet at your place or the public library, your choice," you whispered to Eddie as you twirled some of his hair around your finger.

Eddie had his hands on your hips with his fingertips hooked around your belt loops.

"Whoa not my place," he said a little frantic.

"Library it is," you declared and kissed the lock of hair twined around your finger.

Eddie made an unusual face that worried you.

"Yeah the thing is, we can't. I've got a lifetime ban there."

"How'd that happen?"

"There are a lot of details but it all boils down to a first edition Hemmingway and chocolate pudding."

You had several questions but thought it better to move along. Rehearsal would start in a minute and you needed a location for tomorrow's tutoring.

"Having guests is difficult for me," you explained a little cagey, "and the school wont let us use a room after hours because of our past shenanigans. So it'll have to be your place."

Eddie relented reluctantly and you pecked each other on the lips before he took his place in the band.

The next day you parked your rusty Mustang outside Eddie's trailer making a worrisome noise until you turned the ancient engine off.

You had just spent the past hour with Max shooting the breeze after delivering a batch of meals for her freezer.

When her Mum's roster fell on night shifts you provided a regular meal service so Max didn't eat from tins all week and feel crappy at school from all the chemical additives she ingested.

She rolled her eyes at the elaborate dishes your dad had portioned into tupperware but she was yet to complain about how they tasted.

Eddie heard you pull up and opened the trailer door for you.

"Where's your oven? This sucker needs to heat for ninety minutes," you said holding up a casserole dish with both hands.

"You brought your dinner?" Eddie asked as you passed him.

"Our dinner," you corrected and turned around trying to find the oven in the submarine sized kitchen. "Dad always cooks my student and I a meal when I do afterhours tutoring. I hope you like cassoulet."

Eddie lived on a steady diet of ham sandwiches and tinned spaghetti so he honestly couldn't say if he liked cassoulet or not. You weren't listening for an answer anyway as you were trying to open the oven door with your elbow.

"Guess your old man likes to cook," Eddie remarked as you slipped the dish in and set the temperature.

"He earned two Michelin stars before he gave it up," you answered then looked at him expectantly. "Where are we doing it? The bedroom? Or is the couch better?"

"Sorry?"

"Study," you clarified. "Do you have a desk in your room?"

"Oh right. No. Not the bedroom. I made room on the table."

You were oblivious to the blush rising on Eddie's cheeks as you returned to the living room and claimed a seat. The table was covered by towers of paraphernalia save for a corner Eddie had cleared for the session.

"I'll need a cup of tea and grab yourself some water," you called to Eddie who busied himself looking for a clean mug.

He gave one next to the kettle a suspicious sniff then ran it under some hot water hastily.

Sometimes the guys dropped by to rock out to metal tapes or watch a horror movie but Eddie had never entertained female company at home and it had him on edge.

'Hang on she's not your girlfriend,' he reminded himself as he opened all the jars in the pantry trying to locate a teabag.

That felt weird to think since he'd been making out with you publicly for weeks now. You'd seen him in his underwear and he'd had his hands all over your arse in the janitor's closet. Neither of you held back when you kissed either, your authenticity had earned you a few jeers about swapping mono.

Still, it was all a ruse to protect their business interests, no feelings to hurt.

Right?

The milk had gone bad and you declined sugar so you accepted your beverage as it was and opened a lunchbox of chopped fruit when Eddie sat with his water.

"Natural sugar for the brain," you explained as he looked baffled then you turned away from his smile.

There was something about that smile that made you giddy and invited you be playful.

It was probably the reason you never felt nervous kissing Eddie in front of a crowd. You knew he would never take advantage of you, there was a genuineness to him you trusted.

'Don't' your better judgement warned and you reverted to professionalism.

"Ok let's start with what's most urgent," you ordered. "What's due this week?"

Eddie handed you some crumpled sheets of paper which you flattened against the tabletop smoothing out the creases. He then pulled a math book out of his bag and opened it to a marked page.

You looked over the questions and nodded after a second of processing.

"Write the answers you get on some paper while I go over this then we'll take a look together. See where you're running into trouble."

Eddie "Yes Mamed" and followed your instructions faithfully. You noticed he wasn't shooting quips today or teasing so you suspected he felt embarrassed.

The humbleness of the trailer didn't bother you, your Dad had rented some awful apartments over the years and your current house was hardly The Ritz.

Nor were you gloating over Eddie's aptitude level. You breezed through your classes because of how puzzles deconstructed and realigned in your brain which you knew was rare. Plenty of people had commented about your neurotypical cognition when you had triumphed in no win chess matches.

That didn't give you an ego though, being smart didn't make you superior. You had more failings than you could count - your sporting efforts were laughable, your temper was always running hot and your domestic duties were never going to make you a housewife.

Meanwhile Eddie was creative in ways you'd never be, plucking new riffs from the air and bringing them alive on his guitar. He could write a D&D campaign with the skill of a fantasy novelist and his physical humour was hilarious.

Also the little sketches he'd done in the margins of his essay were quite good.

'Stop thinking about Eddie,' your better judgement piped but again and you concentrated on covering Eddie's handwriting in red pen.

You worked for a solid ninety minutes and found that most of what Eddie did was correct, he just had things around the wrong way.

He made some astute points in his essay but there was no structure to the piece and math he understood, he was just working it out backwards.

You supposed that was why his music was so original, a linear mind rarely came up with anything extraordinary.

The phone rang breaking the silence and you were glad for the disruption. There was something about being in Eddie Munson's private space that had you thinking fond thoughts.

Distractingly fond thoughts.

"Let me grab that," Eddie said and got up.

"Go for it," you said and went to the kitchen to refill your tea. You could hear Eddie on the phone as you searched for a fresh teabag.

"This is he, yes, yes. Sorry what did you say? How much? From where? You're sure? As in five two zeros? Right, thanks, bye."

You headed back to the table but froze when you saw Eddie. He was frowning, something you'd never seen him do and his hands were on his hips.

"That was the bank telling me the cheque you deposited into my account cleared," he said slowly after clearing his throat.

"Oh good," you replied cautiously waiting for the guillotine blade to fall.

Your casualness snapped his thin restraint and Eddie threw his hands into the air in an angry fit.

"Where the hell did you get five hundred dollars?!" he bellowed.

You relaxed knowing there was no emergency and walked back to your seat. If Eddie was going to be dramatic you'd rather take it sitting down.

"It's your ten percent just like I promised," you explained calmly and pulled his essay rewrite closer to read.

"You won five hundred bucks playing chess?" Eddie was flummoxed and couldn't comprehend your coolness.

He wasn't sure what had him wound up more, the amount of money he now possessed or how unperturbed you were about parting with it.

His bank account had never been so far in credit or his lunchbox full of crumpled dollars. His only investments were the guitar hanging on his bedroom wall and the jacket on his back but now he was loaded because you'd made a handshake deal with him behind school.

"Oh, your math is worse than I thought," you said with worry. "When you want to know a total amount of a percentage you write down the-"

"I know how percentages work!" Eddie bellowed. "When you said ten percent last week I though it would be about forty bucks or a couple of chocolate bars!"

"That was your assumption," you replied with an indifferent shrug. His hysterics were starting to bore you.

"Do they really give out five grand at high school chess comps?"

Eddie had heard of people living off games but they were usually card shark cocaine addicts or Russians with Einstein intellects. If someone sponsored D&D he could make a million as Dungeon Master but unfortunately he'd picked a game under persecution by the Christian middle class.

"No I was at the Michigan State Tournament," you said slowly to keep him placated. "I did mention Detroit to you remember?"

That's right, you'd needed the ten bucks for a bus ticket to a chess competition. It then dawned on Eddie he was talking to a state champion and he had to sit down.

"Shit girl," he puffed as he dropped in his chair like he'd just finished a marathon. "I didn't know you were that good."

"I do ok."

"A bit more than ok!"

"Yeah but no one likes a wanker."

Eddie silently agreed with that summation and finished his water before slamming it on the table like a beer pint on a bar.

"I can't accept the money," he declared in a seldom used serious voice. "It's too much."

The writing paper you were reading slowly lowered and Eddie could see your dangerous eyes staring at him lethally. It reminded him of a cowboy's eyes glaring down a gun barrel in a High Noon duel.

There'd be no arguing with whatever you said next.

"Don't start that shit. The deal was ten percent and you got ten percent. Buy some new music equipment, plant more marijuana or blow it all on D&D I really don't care. It's your money Eddie."

It was pretty rare that Eddie didn't get his own way. His band and Hellfire Club heeded his commands like loyal underlings and most adults simply gave him what he wanted to make him go away or stop talking.

Wayne had raised him on a loose leash because Eddie had always respected him enough not to abuse that liberty.

Thinking of Wayne, he'd have to keep the money a secret as he was already suspicious of where the weed cash was coming from.

Eddie hated to admit it but you had him pinned like one of your chess pieces. You wouldn't take the money back and he couldn't tell anyone who might have the influence to overrule your decision.

Zugzwang.

The one chess expression he knew. No matter which move he made it would be a bad one so he had to make the least bad decision he could.

"All right Grandmaster," he resigned himself to defeat sulkily and flopped in his chair. "What will you do with the rest of it? College fund?"

"Why's it matter?"

"Just curious." Eddie was a little taken aback by your snappish answer. "It's pretty cool that you beat a couple hundred people in another state. Most chess players are old dudes but you kicked their arses in a cute skirt. You should be proud of yourself."

Proud.

You'd never been proud of your chess abilities as you'd been warned too many times about the folly of pride. It always cometh before the fall.

You loved chess, the strategy, the cunning, the limitations and the possibilities all in sixty-four squares. Every time you played you discovered something new about the game or your opponent.

You hated the pressure of needing to win prize money though. It was like Van Gough pouring his heart into a painting then having to sell it for a pittance to keep him from begging.

Nothing destroyed your passion faster than making it lucrative.

Eddie's eyes were still on you and you could see his concern. It made you regret arguing and admitted he deserved some honesty. In the short time you'd known him he hadn't lied to you once.

"Some of what you've heard about my Dad is true, he has mental health problems," you began and picked up your mug so your fingers wouldn't fidget. "Very severe bi-polar."

"That's..." Eddie's uncertain expression told you an explanation was needed.

"They used to call it manic depressive. It's when you can't control your emotions so you can shoot up to an amazing mood only to crash into depression without warning. So he can come across as a little intense or strange which unsettles people. Hence all the stories."

Eddie nodded but didn't interrupt because he could tell you were struggling and had heard about your Dad's oddities to follow the story.

He'd never seen you vulnerable and realised you must trust him to talk about this. The two of you had done a lot of kissing but hardly any talking.

"I had to stay in boarding school a long time because he was never well enough to be responsible. He'd do ok for a time with his therapy and medication only to crash out and wind up back in the psych ward. Then last year his social worker said he was steady enough for me to come home."

Eddie didn't interrupt so you continued.

"However no one is keen to employ a man who's spent half his adult life in mental hospitals and Dad can't cope with anything stressful."

"So the prize money-" Eddie began.

"It takes more than a disability cheque and my two side gigs to cover everything. Chess keeps Dad's meds stocked, the rent paid and the bills in the black."

"That's a lot."

"That's just family."

The oven suddenly dinged and you felt a rush of relief. Literally saved by the bell.

Eddie followed you into the kitchen and together you assembled dinner. Eddie usually ate straight from the tin or without cutlery so it took him a minute to find everything.

Sitting back at the table together Eddie felt a sensation of surrealism. He and Wayne usually crossed like ships in the night with Eddie's days at school and Wayne's night shifts so they only ate together on weekends.

Even then it was usually on the couch and only if neither of them had plans. So using the dining table for its intended purpose and eating French food was not something he had anticipated for the evening.

"I've been getting a lot of company around the Coke machine lately," you attempted dinner conversation and Eddie raised his eyebrows. "Cheerleaders and Party Girls asking just how many tattoos you have under that Hellfire shirt and if you have a penis piercing."

"What did you say?" Eddie asked with a half smile.

It was good to see you perking back up after that heavy confession.

"That my lips are sealed but what you did to me on the pool table at The Hideaway last week left me gasping," you said in a sultry voice and added a little gasp for dramatic effect.

Eddie laughed a little as he chewed his dinner. For someone who liked a game so clinical you had quite the sordid imagination.

"You gotta go easier on the risqué stories sweetheart," he said and scooped up another fork of food. "If you give me a Cassanova reputation I'll disappoint the frustrated housewives of Hawkins when I'm cleaning their pools next year."

"You wont be servicing housewives in your future," you assured him. "You'll be a million miles from Hawkins tearing it up on stage at a Swedish Death Metal festival knee deep in Nordic babes."

"You really think so?"

Eddie had never discussed his music ambitions with you but you'd seen his enthusiasm at band practice. You'd seen his frustration too, having to keep to the dull notes of patriotic school pep songs instead of making that guitar roar.

"You've got just as much chance as anybody but not if you stay in this town," you said rationally. "Get your diploma and board a bus to LA or New York where there's actually a music scene. People around here are still playing The Doobie Brothers and The Beatles on vinyl."

"True," Eddie agreed.

Moving out of Hawkins had long been the dream but he'd never had any idea how to go about it. Wayne had gotten stuck here and his father had become a criminal.

Starting fresh successfully required cash and education neither of which he'd had much of.

Until now.

Later when you'd finished dinner Eddie shelled out some tens for your time and you made sure to remember the casserole dish when gathering your things. Dad was very particular about his cookware.

Eddie walked you to your car and unlocked it so you could pile your bags and dirty dish into the passenger side.

"Thanks for tonight," Eddie said as you took the keys back. "I think this helped."

"That's ok," you said dismissively. "Let me know when you need another session and I'll make time."

"I mean for everything tonight. It was really great."

The outdoor light on the trailer didn't cast enough light to see Eddie's face but his tone lacked its usual amusement and sureness.

Like you, it wasn't easy for Eddie to show vulnerability.

Theatrics and showmanship were how Eddie protected himself just as you used stinging insults and wit. Right now you weren't sure how to answer as a factious remark would be a barb on Eddie's exposed nerves.

"I'm glad. I had a good time too," was the first honest thing that came to mind.

Eddie kissed you then. Not one of his exhibition kisses but a gentle one that lingered on your cheek for a second then flew away.

"Oh, um," you would have been less surprised if he'd shoved you aside and stolen the Mustang.

Luckily in the dark Eddie couldn't see you blush. You hadn't received a kiss so sweet and chaste since a chess club boy has kissed you when you were twelve.

"Goodnight Eddie," you blurted and jumped in the car. It spluttered into life and you stomped the clutch to throw the gearstick in reverse.

Eddie looked started in the headlights for a second then you swung the wheel around and shot out the trailer park well over the five mile limit and didn't slow until you saw the lights of town.

Eddie Munson had changed tactics on you and your pieces were exposed to attack.

It was time to put your defences back up.

[niuttuc]

Weird Magic: the Gathering effects

Magic has a lot of cards and mechanics, so kinda wanted to try and see how well people both in and out of the community could fare at one of these. For fairness, I limited things to paper, tournament-legal cards, none of the joke sets or digital exclusive ones. Using current versions of each card's text, presented here as excerpts. Order for the poll was randomized. Reblog for a bigger sample size hopefully outside the magic community.

Edit: Now that the poll is over, let's put the solution under the cut!

The poll is over! This message will go through all the different options, talk about the purpose it serves and maybe add a bit of trivia about the card. This will be a long post, so I'll put most of it under a read more. Hope you enjoyed this poll, and there's definitely enough material for a second one at some point if people are interested!

But first, the correct answer(s)! Technically two of them aren't on tournament-legal cards, because one hasn't been released yet, but I included it because the text was funny and weird, and also to get an idea of how much of the sample were people that played magic but didn't follow things very closely. After all, the poll was aimed at non-magic players, for which it doesn't matter when the card releases.

If you would begin a turn, skip that turn instead. (19.3%)

This text as presented does not exist on any magic card, though Time Vault gets close. Some have pointed in the comments that it COULDN'T exist on a magic card because that would mean you never take a turn again, and that's not true. As with other examples in this list, other text around the one quoted could limit its application, or it could be a huge downside for a powerful effect. Epic exists as an ability that stops you casting spells altogether after all.

You control no suspected Skeleton. (17.6%)

This one was a double-whammy, not only is the card not released yet (people will start playing with it early February, this poll was made mid-January) and just revealed when the poll was made, the conditions for Cases like this one are written in a way that isn't really matched in most magic templating. And why would anyone suspect a skeleton?

Non-Human Werewolves you control... (3.7%)

While all the Werewolves in magic are humans that turn into wolves (at least the ones we know about) and principally from Innistrad, the ones from that plane have a quirk: When in Human form, they count as Human Werewolves, and on their Wolf side they just count as Werewolf. Immerwolf was a support card from the first Innistrad block that stopped your powerful Werewolves from flipping back to their weaker human form.

Coincidentally, this also means Immerwolf stops Werewolf partly mutated by eldritch horrors to finish their transformation, as a total coincidence because those wouldn't be released for another 4 years!

Roll a d12. (18%)

A popular option, even more than the skeleton! What kind of card game would ask you to randomly bring a d12? Well, this one does, at least if you're playing the specific card that requires it. For the longest time, dice-rolling in magic was confined to its joke, non-tournament-legal sets, but with the crossover Dungeons & Dragons set, dice-rolling was brought to the main game! With that said, the main sets of these that were meant for actual tournament play limited themselves to only using D20s, that magic players very commonly already brought to track their life totals (players start with 20 life.)

But in the supplemental sets associated with the D&D ones, that people would mostly play in more relaxed ambiences, designers experimented with the entire lineup of dice available. On top of D20s, we got cards with D4s, D6s, D8s and D12s in there!

You can't win the game and your opponents can't lose the game. (4%)

Be careful with demons! Years prior to this card, a card was printed that did the opposite, stopping your opponents from winning and you from losing, the idea being your opponent had to get rid of it to actually win the game. Then, in 2010, we got this one, using this text as a downside. In exchange, you got an overstatted demon that your opponent would HAVE TO deal with... Or stop you from dealing with it, if you don't have the means to get rid of this demon after you play it when you're ready to win, your opponent will get plenty of time to come back and kill you.

Cowards can't block Warriors. (4.7%)

A very famous line within the magic community, it actually appears on more than one card! Creatures in magic have "creature types" that are roughly separated into species and classes, but they all function the same as far as the rules are concerned. "Coward" is a type that no creatures had at the time of this card's original printing, but it made for a very flavorful statement of a rules text. It was beloved enough to come back on a couple cards since.

Put a card you own from outside the game into your hand. (4%)

This card was part of a cycle (one card of each color) of Wishes in its original set which all had a variation on this effect. Most colors' could only grab from a subset of cards, but the black one got to get anything at the cost of a hefty drawback. This effect has come back semi-regularly since, and is known in the game as a "Wish" effect. In tournament play, thankfully, it is limited to grabbing cards from the "sideboard" you bring to tweak your deck between rounds of a match, containing a maximum of fifteen cards, and not an entire multi-thousand card collection.

In the aforementioned D&D crossover set, it made for a very clean implementation of the Wish spell that spoke immediately to magic players... Though I've heard some D&D players found it lackluster for such an iconic spell.

Each player votes for death or taxes (5%)

Conspiracy sets were built on multiplayer and politics, and as such introduced a new voting mechanic that would let players around the table discuss the end result of you casting a spell. It was iterated upon in the second Conspiracy set, and then a few more times incidentally since. A lot of the voting cards have players choose between two options, so they were given names, but since the name don't really change anything gameplay-wise, designers had fun giving them some flavor. You can vote between death and taxes, between time and money, between wild and free.

Count the number of cards in your library. (9.1%)

Your library is your deck during the game in magic (which I intended to specify but forgot). Counting the cards in it is tedious and usually not something you have to do, but a few cards make you do it. This one is the only one to actually say that, and thankfully it's a bad card, pure lifegain usually isn't good in magic, but there's a couple spells that affect half of a person's library, and while they're not common sights, when they happen, it's counting time...

Chaos ensues. (7.8%)

Oh hey, one of those votes again! Chaos ensuing (and planeswalking) are tied to the Planechase variant of the game, that isn't played in tournaments, where the location you're in can change and affect the game during it. With that said, a few tournament-legal cards were printed last year (a cycle of these voting ones, and Missy from Doctor Who) that actually just make Chaos Ensue. Though that text doesn't do anything if you're not playing Planechase, the cards are still legal to play.

Cascade, Cascade, Cascade, Cascade (2.5%)

Most keywords in magic don't do anything special when repeated. Most. When they're an action like Cascade, you can just chain them together! A few cards were made over the years with double cascade, but to amp it up a notch, a few years back this card was made that is just huge and Cascades 4 times.

If it's neither day nor night... (4.2%)

The Midnight Hunt set introduced a Day/Night cycle to magic, that switches depending on players' actions, and it can be pretty annoying to keep track of. To avoid polluting games that don't need it across formats with it, the Day/Night cycle starts inactive and only starts when it's introduced by a card, until then, players are in a limbo of neither day nor night that does nothing gameplay-wise. Most of the ways to introduce the cycle start during the day, but a couple notable cards can bring about the night directly, and by themselves.

[ohholydyke]

Hi! As an LGBTQ+ Christian, I'm genuinely really curious how you reconcile non-celibate homosexuality with Bible verses like Leviticus 18:22 and Romans 1:26-28? While I know alternative interpretations/translations are offered, taking into account context, I really struggle with why God would allow the more commonly accepted interpretations to be so widespread if they were wrong, so I'm super interested in your view on this (if you're okay to share?). <3

Of course! First of all let me start by acknowledging I am not a biblical scholar and am only human, so I encourage you to do your own research. Also, if any of my dating or analysis is factually wrong (like my manuscript analysis), I will be happy to address that if pointed out.

Allow me to take this step by step. This post ended up being super long so I’m going to break it up into three separate posts. Part I is Leviticus 18:22, part II will be on Romans 1:26-28 and part III will be on why I believe the widely held interpretations are so widespread if they are wrong, and why widespread theology and belief doesn’t necessarily mean correctness or truth. I’ll @ you and cross link these posts for access as I go.

Edit: Part II is now up

Part I: Leviticus 18:22

First off, external context:

The following text is from The New Catholic Bible: St Joseph Compact Size Edition (2019)

Modern critics agree that during the Babylonian Exile some priests (of the tribe of Levi) collected and made part of their final text the liturgical books that had taken shape in the course of time: a ritual for sacrifices, another for the investiture of priests, a set of norms for distinguishing clean from unclean; at some later point, they added the "Law of Holiness" (chs. 17-26). It is this body of material that makes up the Book of Leviticus. The various components are not all from the same period: some prescriptions date from the time of Moses and even earlier; in other instances the editors adapt ancient rites to their own present religious concerns. The Law of Holiness, which probably dates from the last years of the monarchy (end of the seventh century) reflects the viewpoints of the Jerusalem priesthood and stands in contrast to the viewpoints found in Deuteronomy, which was published during the same period.

All the laws systematized in Leviticus are regarded as expressing God's will. They impose on the chosen people a common religious behavior by which this people will show themselves to be the people of the Sinai covenant. The Lord has delivered his own from the land of Egypt and he now expects them to acknowledge his presence and render him the worship due to him.

Sacrifice, which takes numerous forms, is the essential act of worship. It signifies that the children of Israel hand over themselves and their possessions to him who is their supreme protector. It unites them to their God and, by winning his forgiveness, restores this union when sin has broken it. In short, through sacrifice God saves and sanctifies his people. Israel is a priestly people; the priests in their actions symbolize the worship of an entire people.

In addition to moral and liturgical precepts, Leviticus lists various, sometimes quite detailed regulations meant to decide which objects and things hinder a person from drawing near to what is sacred, even though no moral fault might be involved; it was thought that these objects had a baleful power. Like the neighboring peoples, the children of Israel had their prohibitions, but even through these taboos, which were standard in this ancient civilization, they came to know the holiness of God, which is so strongly asserted throughout this book and which came to pervade their entire existence.

Let’s do some close reading here. First of all, Leviticus as we have it was compiled and written during the Babylonian Exile, likely combining oral tradition, Jewish practice and written documents. This means that the text carries with it a long history of existing laws and reflection on customs and law/the priesthood. This isn’t to say that the text isn’t divinely inspired (a doctrine I personally affirm though you don’t have to), but because it was written through mortal men we can assume the limitations of humanity apply such as bias, cultural understanding (such as the way an American’s understanding of the date 9/11 is coded by the 2001 plane attacks as a modern day citizen), and imperfect dialectic and rhetoric skills. Once again, this doesn’t denigrate the text as much as just humbly acknowledge that as humans we are limited, and we must approach Scripture with that knowledge lest our arrogance overtake us into the sin of pride (which is similar to the issue a lot of Catholics take with Protestants defending strict sola scriptura). This means that we must approach the text with the understanding that Leviticus 18:22 was written after the law was given, traveling in the desert, the establishment of Israel as a kingdom and the Babylonian captivity and exile. That’s…a lot of time for potential interference between the law given by God and the text in our hands. It’s like playing a really long game of telephone: we’re probably really close, but there can be gaps and we should acknowledge that potential. So I can acknowledge that the verse was written by fallible men, with human limitations, quite some time and distance culturally and geographically from the original handing of the law at Sinai. Once again, this doesn’t denigrate Scripture and its worthiness, but is a necessary acknowledgement for humility and understanding within the text’s proper context.

Second of all, the above quote tells us that the laws are there to show that the Sinai people are different and set apart (more on this later). This gives us the motivation and intention of the text and the laws within them. Now, while we may certainly argue that the truths expressed in the law have worthiness in being continued (one of my favorite parts of Leviticus is the house code of Leviticus 14 which tells the priesthood how to deal with mold infections in a house and when it’s salvageable and when it needs to be destroyed/how to avoid getting sick from it with the means available to them in the desert and later on when they could actually build houses) it’s important to recognize that the law was given to the Jewish people in order to keep them alive in the desert and to separate them from Egypt and the Canaanites (Leviticus 18:3). Thus everything contained in the law is for one or both purposes, and should be evaluated in this way. The question becomes: what was the behavior being addressed in 18:22, and how did that keep them alive in the desert and/or separate them from the people around them? I’ll come back to this question later.

Notably, the point of being separated from people around them was twofold: the purpose was either to avoid being judged and looked down upon by other nations (by doing something they’d see as shameful or dishonorable) OR it was to set apart Jewish religion from other religious practices around (remember Leviticus is primarily aimed at priests and framed within a religious law (rather than secular) context). So 18:22 must be referring to behavior either condemned by other nations OR religious behavior normalized within other nations (a good comparison is the prohibitions of scarification and tattoos, as these were regularly performed by surrounding religious groups for ritual purposes. Notably, we no longer uphold such prohibitions as we are not Ancient Israel.)

As a quick side note the detail on describing houses of stone also emphasizes my above point about the text being written post Sinai and the desert exile (when they were more nomadic and largely in tent encampments).

Another aspect of note is when the quote above talks about “the various components are not all from the same period: some prescriptions date from the time of Moses and even earlier; in other instances the editors adapt ancient rites to their own present religious concerns.” This also affects our approach to the applicability of the text in our lives, and we must acknowledge that we don’t have the law dictated by God at Sinai (dated roughly 1313 BC), we have an inspired account by men written during the exile (dated roughly 425 BC to 328 BC). That’s a thousand year separation. Remember that game of telephone? So we have God’s dictated law, filtered through God’s inspired scripture a thousand years later by a divinely inspired yet still fallible and limited human being. And that’s just the original copy. The earliest manuscript of Leviticus we have, 4QExod-Lev of 4Q17, is a Dead Sea scroll that dates to 250 BC (so at least 78 years since the original), and that manuscript doesn’t even have 18:22. For that verse we have to go to 4Q23 which is dated sometime between 140 and 37 BC. So now we have our divinely dictated word of law being written by divinely inspired humans, then (since we only assert that the originals are divinely inspired, not copies or translations) being copied and translated into a not divinely inspired manuscript written approximately 1,173-1,276 years after the original law was dictated at Sinai, all by fallible humans. That’s a lot going on in our game of telephone before we even touch the question of translation, preservation, and the biblical canon.

That’s made even more complicated by the fact that 18:22 is part of the Law of Holiness, which “probably dates from the last years of the monarchy (end of the seventh century) [and] reflects the viewpoints of the Jerusalem priesthood [of the time] and stands in contrast to the viewpoints found in Deuteronomy, which was published during the same period.” Telephone game and human limitations.

Finally, for external context, we have the following part of the quote: “Leviticus lists various, sometimes quite detailed regulations meant to decide which objects and things hinder a person from drawing near to what is sacred, even though no moral fault might be involved; it was thought that these objects had a baleful power. Like the neighboring peoples, the children of Israel had their prohibitions, but even through these taboos, which were standard in this ancient civilization, they came to know the holiness of God” I want you to keep this in mind as we move into the next part of our verse analysis

Internal context:

Leviticus 18 is part of the Law of Holiness (or Holiness Code), which is unique for regarding all of Israel as holy (not just the priests or sacrifices) and mainly is the bit where God says that the Canaanites were doing certain practices and Israel needs to not do them. So we know 18:22 refers to something the Canaanites were doing, which satisfies the earlier question about the verse needing to help Israel survive in the desert and/or set them apart from other peoples. 18:3 specifies this by saying “you shall not do what is done in the land of Egypt where you lived, nor are you to do what is done in the land of Canaan where I am bringing you; you shall not walk in their statutes.”

Remember the earlier definition of “set apart”? Let’s come back to that. Option 1 is to avoid shame. Option 2 is to avoid religious practices to set Judaism apart. The word used in 18:22 is the infamous to’evah. Abomination. What does to’evah mean in its original context? Let’s look at other verses. In Genesis 43:32, it’s used to describe the way Egyptians believed it was a to’evah to eat bread with the Hebrews. In Genesis 46:34, it’s used to describe how Egyptians saw shepherds as to’evah. In Exodus 8:26, it talks about how the Egyptians saw certain Hebrew sacrifices as to’evah and that’s why Moses asked pharaoh to let them go out of Egypt to make sacrifices. In all these cases, option 1 (behavior detested by other nations) seems to be the best case. It’s notable that none of these things are morally bad in of themselves (the Bible itself discusses how shepherds, Egyptians and jews eating bread together, Jewish sacrifices are all fine) but instead are cultural taboos.

So let’s look at behaviors that were prohibited by surrounding nations:

First off the Hittites had laws against a father having intercourse with his son (I don’t know for sure if this means consensual or not because the term I came across is “violates” which could mean rape or it could mean defilement). It is accompanied by other anti incest laws similar to the rest of Leviticus 18. The scholar Harry Hoffner Jr notes that the Hittite law was because the partner was the man’s son, not because they were of the same sex. The following quote is by scholar Brian Gerig:

Table A, paragraph 20 deals with a physical act done, not just a rumor: “If a seignior [an Assyrian man] lay with his neighbor [another citizen], when they have prosecuted him (and) convicted him [the first citizen], they shall lie with him (and) turn him into a eunuch.”14 This describes a situation where a man has forced sex upon a local resident or business partner, who then has the option of bringing a charge against him. Noticeably, the perpetrator is punished while the victim is not; so the crime here is rape. Homosexuality itself is not condemned, nor looked upon as immoral or disordered. Anyone could visit a prostitute or lay with another male, as long as false rumors or forced sex were not involved with another Assyrian male. Still, both of these laws suggest that for a male to take the submissive woman’s role in same-sex intercourse was looked down upon as shameful and despised.

I’ll come back to the idea of a man in a submissive woman’s roles being looked down upon later. But for now, Brian Gerig continues on:

Pictorial and literary references in ancient Mesopotamia show acceptance of some forms of homosexuality, but wariness toward others. Anal intercourse was freely pictured in figurative art in the ancient cities of Uruk, Assur, Babylon, and Susa from the 3rd millennium B.C. on – and images show that it was practiced as part of religious ritual. Both Zimri-lin (king of Mari) and Hammurabi (king of Babylon) had male lovers, which the queen of Zimri-lin mentions matter-of-factly in a letter. The Almanac of Incantations contained prayers favoring on an equal basis the love of a man for a woman, of a woman for a man, and of a man for man.16 (Lesbian love is not mentioned, probably because of the low status of women in ancient times, when women were basically considered property, and adultery was considered a trespass against the husband’s property. A husband was free to fornicate, but a wife could be put to death for the same thing.17) The Summa alu, a manual used to predict the future, sought to do this in some cases on the basis of sexual acts, five of which are homosexual:

“If a man copulates with his equal from the rear, he becomes the leader among his peers and brothers.

If a man yearns to express his manhood while in prison and thus, like a male cult-prostitute, mating with men becomes his desire, he will experience evil.

If a man copulates with an assinnu [a male cult-prostitute], trouble will leave him

If a man copulates with a gerseqqu [a male courtier, or royal attendant], worry will possess him for a whole year but will then leave him.

If a man copulates with a house-born slave, a hard destiny will befall him.”18

The fact that different kinds of homoerotic pairing will occur is taken for granted. What mattered was the role and the status of a partner, especially the passive partner – and the anticipated ramifications in each case. To penetrate a male who was of equal status or a cult prostitute was thought to bring good fortune; but copulation with a royal attendant, a fellow prisoner, or a household slave was thought to probably spell trouble.19

Needless to say, none of these are about being queer as we understand that now. The closest one is the act of anal sex between men, used as a power and social dynamic: they are equals until anal penetration occurs, after which the penetrator is superior and a leader, and the nature of each case of homosexuality comes down to power dynamics and social class between men. This isn’t an act of a romantic and sexual relationship such as the gays have now. Notably, 18:22 reinforces this distinction by the addition “as one lies with a woman.” The prohibition isn’t against lying with another man, but against lying with him in a specific way. This separates 18:22 from the other verses in ch 18, in which incest is just flat out prohibited in all forms such as 18:7 (you shall not uncover the nakedness of your father or mother), onto 18:20. Similarly, 18:23 (beastiality) is a flat out prohibition rather than a specific font of an action. Only 18:22 stands out with the qualifier “as with a woman.” I would argue this is because of the above power and social dynamics of anal sex in the Ancient Near East. The woman was submissive and penetrated, for a man to receive anal penetration was for him to become a woman and thus degrade himself and be judged for it. That’s why Sodom and Gomorrah ought to be read as gang rape in an attempt to humiliate a foreigner (which is the interpretation that better aligns with Ezekiel 49-50: “Behold, this was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had arrogance, abundant food and careless ease, but she did not help the poor and needy. Thus they were haughty and committed abominations before Me. Therefore I removed them when I saw it.” [Emphasis added]).

This is further emphasized by the fact that Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome both had similar views of anal sex, in which the bottom participant was seen as holding the role of a woman and/or an inferior (and thus denigrated) while the top was accepted (and in some cases seen as asserting his manliness and power in having anal intercourse as the penetrator). More on Rome’s views later.

So to summarize: to’evah suggests practices that are cultural taboos rather than inherently immoral acts. This lends itself to an interpretation of “being set apart from Canaanites” as avoiding behavior that would shame Israel in the eyes of the nations around it. Historical evidence does not suggest that queer relationships were an issue. Instead, the judged behavior was either actions that aren’t queer relationships OR an act based around power dynamics and social class hierarchy and humiliation that led to the social shame of one of the participants as “less of a man” and as an inferior. Obviously, that last one is not the case for modern queer relationships, which are not about power and social class dynamics in that way AND our society does not look down upon men who practice anal sex the same way the Ancient Near East did because we no longer have the same views of men and women and their sexual and social roles (excluding of course modern homophobia which is fueled by verse interpretations and thus out of the question here).

But let’s say I lost you with my interpretation of to’evah as social taboo. Maybe 18:22 was a matter of Israel avoiding behavior that surrounding nations allowed or celebrated religiously or socially (option 2 of being set apart). Let’s examine it again from that lens then:

Brian Gerig and many other Near East religious and cultural scholars highlight laws and cultural norms around homosexuality as taking two main forms outside of the ones already addressed above: pedastry and temple prostitution/religious erotic practices.

Pedastry is, of course, pedophilia. I think we can all agree that pedophilia is evil and also NOT WHAT QUEER RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN TWO CONSENTING ADULTS IS.

As for temple prostitution (of which Canaanite cultures did have quite a few instances of men and women who engaged in sex with worshipers as an act of religious devotion) and religious erotic practices (in which priests and priestesses engaged in erotic and sexual activities as offerings or devotion to their gods and spirits), this aligns more with the idea of “being set apart” = “not doing religious practices of surrounding nations” (remember the scarification example?). Once again, this is situationally limited (we as Christians no longer prohibit tattoos because we don’t do them religiously and are not Jewish so as to be set apart like Ancient Israel) and more importantly IS ALSO NOT WHAT MODERN QUEER RELATIONSHIPS AND SEX ARE ABOUT. A gay couple isn’t having sex as an offering to an ancient Mesopotamian deity or as a temple act with worshipers and parishioners for religious reasons (most of the time at least, idk what everyone does with their time but we’re not talking about that here).

I have one final nail in the coffin for Leviticus 18:22, and that’s about exegesis and application:

Supersessionism is bad and antisemetic. We’re not replacing Jewish people in the covenant and in being set apart from other nations by YHWH. Thus, we are not under the same category of having to be set apart from Egypt and Canaan like the Ancient Israelites were. You could argue the Holiness Code does not apply to modern day people as a result.

Part 2: Romans 1:26-28 and Part 3: Why the commonly held interpretations are widely spread if they are wrong to come shortly.

[theemporium]

Dear CeCe

I have a request it’s something along the lines of

"You brought me breakfast?" "Well you said you always forget to eat before you go to work, so I thought I'd make sure you ate something."

Where the reader (much like myself because of my adhd) forgets to eat breakfast so the driver (preferably Carlos because that man can cook and I believe it’s one of his favorite things to do when not racing) brings them breakfast so they can eat.

(Ps can it be an plus sized!reader)

Thank you ❤️💙

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

When you had made the comment with the Spaniard present, you didn’t think it would amount to anything.

It had been during a rainy stint between free practice sessions. The rain was still going heavy and the track was too wet to even attempt a few laps, so most of the teams had been huddled in the garages as they waited for the weather to ease. 

You had been on Carlos’ side of the garage, along with some other Ferrari workers that were on the social media team. Originally, you were planning to use the extra time to get some shots of both drivers for the Instagram page, only to find yourself seated with both drivers and some others from the engineering team as you discussed random topics of conversation. 

The topic of the drivers’ insane meal and dietary requirements came up, along with superstitions and favourite meals on race day when you had made the passive comment.

“I don’t think I could be a driver. I forget to eat breakfast half the time, let alone remember which foods I can and can’t eat. It would be a mess!”

The comment had stuck with Carlos, and not in a good way. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like the idea that you were skipping out on meals. He had noticed a handful of times you’d forget to eat whilst you were at the paddock because you were too immersed in your work. But the fact it went beyond that? That you were forgetting meals outside of work?

He didn’t like it one bit.

You had been in the Ferrari motorhome the first time it happened. You had been sitting at one of the tables, your laptop sat in front of you and your eyes focused on the screen as you worked on editing some photos that were supposed to be going up that afternoon.

You didn’t even notice the Spanish driver leaving the catering kitchens, let alone making his way towards you until the chair he pulled up beside you was scraping against the floor, the screeches hard to ignore. 

You smiled when you noticed him, opening your mouth to greet him, only to freeze when he placed a plate in front of you.

You blinked. “What is this?” 

“Breakfast,” he said simply with a smile as he took the seat next to you, placing his own plate in front of him. 

“You got me breakfast?” you questioned, unsure why the action made your stomach flutter. Maybe it was the hunger you didn’t even realise you felt, or maybe it was the handsome man beside you.

“I made you breakfast,” he corrected before pausing. “Do you not like it? I can make you something else—”

“No!” you said suddenly, flushing a little at how loud and abrupt you were before clearing your throat. “No, I…thank you, Carlos.” 

“No problem, amor.” 

But what you assumed was a one time thing started to happen every day you were at the paddock. On race weekends, Carlos would always have a plate ready for you when you arrived, from Thursday straight through to Sunday. And on the weeks where there was no race, you found yourself exchanging numbers with the Spanish driver, only to find yourself receiving constant reminders from the boy.

smooth operator: remember to eat something today xx

smooth operator: did you drink enough water today, amor? xx 

smooth operator: remember to eat dinner before midnight please 

It sent a flutter of butterflies down to your stomach every time he texted. It made your heart thrum whenever he called. And you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were falling for the Spanish driver. Despite knowing his actions were probably just a show of friendship, it didn’t change the way you felt for him.

And you were happy to keep your feelings reserved to yourself until Charles had made a comment one race weekend.

“Carlos, your girlfriend is here!” The other Ferrari driver called out through the garage in a sing-song voice.

Your cheeks flushed. “Oh no, I—we are just friends.” 

Charles looked sceptical. “Friends, huh?”

You frowned a little at his tone of voice. “Yes?” 

Charles laughed, shaking his head. “I knew Carlos’ whole ‘food is the way to a woman’s heart’ was a load of bullshit!”

“Ay, no it’s not!” Carlos scoffed as he made his way over, smacking his teammate on the back of his head before he turned to you, a smile on his face. “Ah, mi amor.” 

“Hey,” you murmured with a shy smile before you raised the bag in your hand, the rustle catching both boys’ attention. “I, uh, thought it was time for me to repay the favour. It’s not as good as your cooking but—”

“It’s perfect,” he insisted, not even caring what was inside the bag. 

“What a nice friendly gesture,” Charles piped up with a grin plastered across his face.

Your face heated up and Carlos frowned a little.

“You think we are just friends?” Carlos asked, his head turning to look at you.

You blinked. “We aren’t?”

“Is my flirting really that bad?” 

Your lips parted slightly. “You were flirting?”

“Oh, this is brilliant,” Charles snorted.

“Mi amor, I don’t just make meals for any girl,” Carlos said with a sheepish expression on his face. 

“Oh,” you murmured. 

Carlos raised his brows. “Oh?”

“I didn’t think you felt the same about me,” you admitted with a shy smile.

“Well, you’d be wrong,” he teased, something darker and more tempting shining in his eyes. “Think I can convince you to agree to dinner then?” 

“Will you be cooking for me, Mr Sainz?” you asked.

“It’s just one of many things I’ll be doing for you, amor,” Carlos said, his darkened gaze meeting yours.

“Then I’d be a fool to say no.” 

“This is horrible to witness, by the way,” Charles piped up once again. “I’m glad you two admitted your feelings but really, get a room, please.”

.

[daisies-daydreams]

*BREATHES HEAVILY.*

KONIG X PLUS SIZE FEM READER.

alright bud, let’s say that reader is trying to learn German for Konig right? she’s been practicing alot since Konig leaves to go to his work. When Konig comes back from his mission and reader says some basic sentences in german to Konig, Konig was so surprised so he took her to the bedroom and yknow.. 😝 (smut..)

(also if you don’t mind , can you make it like hardcore? I completely understand that if you can’t do it.)

THANKSSS :3 !!

Next to Me (König x F!Plus-Sized!Reader)

Pairing: König x F!Plus-Sized!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut Tags: Light Domestic Fluff, Slight Angst, Dom!König/Sub!Reader, Wife!Reader, Dirty Talk, Foreplay, Making Out, Mentions of Safe words, Spanking, Face Riding, Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Bondage, Rough Sex, Unprotected P in V Sex (You Know the Drill), Multiple Orgasms, Missionary Position, Mating Press, Creampie, Post-Sex Cuddling Word Count: 4.5k+ Adult Content Banner by @cafekitsune Original A/N: Thank you for your sweet request! ☺️ König's name is König in this fic - I just wanted to avoid any confusion. I hope you enjoy! (Side Note: I’m not fluent in German. If I made any errors, please correct me. Thank you!) A/N/N: I chose to edit and reupload this fic. I got ahead of myself when I originally posted it, and wanted to go back and make some changes. I apologize for taking it down, but I wanted to make sure it was the best quality I could make it.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard the click of the front door unlocking. You immediately turned off the stove and rushed over to the microwave. You parted your lips and checked your teeth as you quickly brushed some loose hair from your face. You smiled before smoothing your hands over your apron. With one firm push, the door to your humble abode swung open and your tall, massive husband stepped through the doorway.

“Baby!” you squealed and sprinted towards him. König’s bright, blue eyes lit up as he bent down and tossed his duffel bag aside. He grunted when you ran into him and squeezed him tightly, your arms wrapped around him in a vice grip. You nuzzled your face into his broad chest as he wrapped his arms around your smaller form.

“Ich habe dich so vermisst, Mäuschen,” your love rumbled while stroking his massive palm along your back [I missed you so much, little mouse]. The two of you simply held each other as the warm summer breeze drifted through your cozy home. König sighed as you pulled back, his sparkling, blue eyes glowing with affection as you cupped his rugged cheek.

“Ich habe dich auch vermisst, großer bär,” your voice wavered as you spoke [I missed you, too, big bear]. König gasped softly as his eyes widened. You squeaked when his grip tightened around your smaller body. His shocked expression quickly melted into a grin as he picked you up and spun you around.

“When did you learn that phrase, hm?” he chuckled before gently placing your feet on the floor and pressing his lips to the top of your head. You giggled as he smoothed his hands over your hips.

“I learned a bit of German while you were gone,” you replied with a small shrug. König's smile softened when you reached up on your tip toes and pecked the deep, prominent scar on his chin. A flicker of desire passed through his eyes as he rubbed his thumbs over your love handles.

“Wirklich?” he asked [Really?]. You smiled and nodded.

“Ja,” you giggled and kissed his chin again [Yes]. König chuckled deeply, his gaze becoming half-lidded as he dipped his head down. You smiled and closed your eyes as he pressed his hands against the small of your back while his lips gently met with yours. Warmth flooded you from head to toe as the two of you tenderly embraced, yours hands resting on his broad shoulders as he grunted.

Your husband sighed when he eventually pulled back, his pink lips glossed over with your combined spit. He smiled softly as he brushed his rough thumb along your bottom lip.

"I thought about you so, so much while I was gone," König sighed as his hand gently caressed your cheek. You sighed and cupped your hand over his own, taking in the many new scratches and bruises woven into the tapestry of his ivory skin. To anyone else, he would look broken...but to you, he was everything and more. König's brows furrowed as you sniffed.

"Maus, what's wrong?" your beloved cooed softly as he wiped your tears away with his calloused finger. You sighed and shook your head.

"I-I'm just happy you came back to me," you said with a solemn smile, the weight of the "what ifs" that came with his occupation weighing heavily on your aching heart. König gazed into your glossy eyes as he rubbed your back, resting his chin on top of your head.

"I'm here, (Y/N). I'm here," he murmured soothingly. You closed your eyes as you released a shaky breath, your shoulders relaxing as the two of you rested in the doorway. You eventually pulled back and smiled as you looked up, your husband brushing his fingers behind your ear as he reflected your grin.

“You look so cute in that little apron, Mäuschen,” your beloved smiled. You chuckled softly as the tips of your ears heated up.

“T-Thank you. I was just finishing up dinner: Schnitzel and Käsespätzle,” you murmured. A bright grin formed over his face as he closed the front door with his combat boot.

“Ah, you know how to spoil me, Schatz," he chuckled and pecked the top of your head. You beamed, your heart skipping a beat at his praise as you slipped your hand into his.

"Come on then, you must be starving," you cooed. König squeezed your hand as you began to lead him into the dining room. You turned to see an insatiable hunger glowing in his eyes.

"I am...but I'm afraid I'm hungry for something else right now,” your husband rumbled as his hand fiddled with the strings of your apron. Your eyes widened as your apron became looser, a spark of heat igniting deep within your core.

“O-Okay. I’d be happy to make something else for you,” you swallowed thickly before biting your lip. A mischievous glint flashed through König's blue eyes as he clicked his tongue.

“Now now, there's no need to play coy with me, Hase,” he rumbled lowly while gently pulling your apron over your head and tossing it aside [bunny]. You squirmed beneath his lustful gaze as he leaned closer to your ear.

“I might have you just give you a spanking for being so cheeky, you know,” König groaned as his hands snaked down your back and gave a delicious squeeze to your supple rear. You parted your lips as your body trembled with need. You leaned back and met his gaze as you played with his short, fiery locks at the back of his neck.

“Ich würde gerne sehen, wie du es versuchst,” you whispered lowly while tracing your hand down his chest [I’d like to see you try]. König’s brows shot up as he dug his fingertips into your clothed bum.

“Oh, würdest du?” he rumbled in a deep, husky voice [Oh, you would?]. You noticed the primal look in his eye as he readied himself like a panther about to pounce. You squealed as you ran into the living room, his long strides quickly catching up with you as he chuckled.

"Come now, Hase," he hummed as the two of you playfully danced around the coffee table. You moved your upper body back and forth. You giggled as you made a mad dash for the bedroom, your hulking husband effortlessly wrapping his thick arms around you and pulling you against his rugged body.

"Nice try," he clicked his tongue as he gave your chubby tummy a subtle squeeze. You wiggled against him, your ass mindlessly grinding against his semi-hard cock. Your husband groaned as he leaned down and gently nibbled on your ear, making you gasp and arch your back in his hold. König grunted at the sweet friction of your round bum against his stiffening cock, his lips slowly trailing from your ear to your cheek.

"(Y/N), bitte. I haven't felt you in so long," your beloved groaned as his hips bucked against your backside [please]. You whined and shifted your body as the heat within your core began to swell and spread through your entire being.

"Ich gehöre ganz dir, mein Liebe," you moaned breathlessly [I'm all yours, my love]. König rumbled deeply as he gently pushed you against the bed, your body folding over the edge of the mattress as his hands glided over every inch of your curvaceous sides. You squealed as König dipped his fingers below the band of your pants and panties, his hot breath cascading over your neck as he tugged them down.

"Oh mein gott," your love groaned as your bare ass jiggled when he shoved your pants all the way down to your knees [Oh my god]. You arched your back and wiggled your hips as your husband grunted behind you, his massive palms now cupping and squishing your asscheeks together.

"Same safeword as last time?" he whispered against your neck. You swallowed thickly and nodded, your heart racing faster the longer his hands remained on your luscious body.

"Y-Yes," you managed to breath out. You felt him smile over your pulse before he pressed his lips even harder against your neck. You moaned softly as one of his hands embraced your hip, the other lazily tracing shapes over the curve of your ass.

"Listen here, Hase. You're going to count each and every spanking I give you. If you mess up...well, there will be another punishment I'll give. Verstehst du?" your husband grunted as he smoothed his hand over one of your lower cheeks [Do you understand?]. You parted your lips and nodded, your hands gripping the sheets below you.

"J-Ja," you replied, your legs clenching with anticipation of the delicious mix of pain and pleasure. You moaned as König suddenly laid his flat palm against your bum, the sharp sting sending a wave of pleasure straight to your needy core. "O-One," you grunted. You gasped when König traced his fingertips over your spine before pinching your bum.

"Ah-ah, Liebling. Auf Deutsch," he clicked his tongue [In German]. You whined and squirmed against his hold.

"E-Eins," you sighed [One]. König chuckled lowly before laying another quick smack across your rear. You moaned as your walls clenched and fluttered, a dark mark starting to form over your bum. "Zwei," you panted as you felt your lower lips start to ooze with slick [Two].

"Gute Arbeit, Maus. Keep going," he urged you with another swat to your backside [Good job]. You keened each time his palm slapped against your skin, your pussy growing wetter as the pain slowly melted into a pleasure that pooled in your heat. You were white-knuckling the blankets by the time his palm slid away from your body, your ass throbbing with a dull sting.

"Sehr gut, mein kleine Frau," König grunted before gently brushing his fingers through your hair [Very good, my little wife]. You keened at his praise as he gently kissed your neck. Your eyes rolled back as you felt him suckle on your pulse, his rough, calloused hands gently spreading your asscheeks apart as he rutted his hips against your rear. You sighed and tilted your head back as he slowly pulled his head back, a string of spit connecting his lips to the fresh hickey adorning your neck.

"You know what I want now, more than anything?" he murmured huskily before slowly dragging his tongue along the dark mark on your skin. You shuddered and shook your head.

"W-What?" you whispered as your breath hitched. König chuckled deeply as he dipped his fingers lower. You gasped as he gently teased your lower lips with his fingertips, the tender rubbing making your clench your thighs around his hand. He tilted his head close to your ear again and nipped at it.

"I want you to ride my face, mein Schatz," he rasped into your ear as he pushed his fingertip against the slick rim of your entrance [my treasure]. Your throat grew tight as you squeezed your thighs together, his fingertips resting over your folds as he chuckled. "Does that sound good, Liebling?" König hummed lowly as he slowly rubbed his fingers across your labia. You swallowed the growing lump stuck in your throat as you nodded.

"B-But, I don't want to hurt you. You know how...big I am," you frowned and looked down at the mattress. Your husband chuckled before his hand cupped your mound.

"I'm not worried about that. In fact, I could suffocate between your thighs and die a happy man," he growled while swiping his thumb over your sensitive clit. Your jaw went slack as a searing wave of bliss rolled through your weeping cunt. Your husband sighed before gently kissing your temple. "Now...let's get out of these clothes," your love groaned before laying a soft, playful slap against your cunt. You mewled and slowly nodded your head, your chest rising and falling as König stepped back and rolled his shirt over his head. You tore your shirt and bra off and tossed them aside before climbing onto the bed, your husband still unbuckling his belt.

"Gespannt, nicht wahr?" König snickered as his pants dropped to the floor [Eager, aren't we?]. Your mouth watered as you saw the large bulge strain beneath the fabric of his dark briefs.

"V-Vielleicht," you replied while licking your lips [P-Perhaps]. Your beloved hummed softly as he tugged his underwear down his taut, muscular thighs. You released a quiet moan as his thick, heavy cock bobbed from the tight confines of his briefs, the weight of it causing it to droop closer to his knees. You bit your lip as his eyes trailed over your naked body, drinking in every roll and curve of your exposed form.

"Sie sind so schön," König rasped as he climbed into bed with you, his back flat against the sheets as his hands tugged your hips closer to his face [You're so beautiful]. Your heart fluttered at his words as your dripping heat hovered mere inches from his eager lips.

"Endlich," König groaned as he snaked his burly arms around your thick thighs [Finally]. Your eyes rolled back as he blew a puff of hot air against your lower lips, your legs shaking around his head as you lowered your hips. A loud instantly escaped from your mouth the second his warm lips touched your folds in a wet, sloppy kiss.

"O-Oh baby, mmm," you panted as you fully sank down, the tip of his nose tenderly brushing against your swollen clit. You mewled and shifted your hips as he tugged your labia between his teeth, your slick smearing along his lower face as he groaned. Your eyes widened as he slowly dragged his tongue along your slit, his hot breath fanning over your weeping sex.

"Oh mein gott, I've missed this," your husband's voice was muffled between your thick thighs as he traced his wet muscle between your folds [Oh my god]. You whined and gripped the headboard as you rolled your hips forward, creating a savory friction between your bodies. König squeezed your supple legs as he swiped his tongue back and forth across your sensitive heat, his throat bobbing beneath your folds as he guzzled down your juices.

"K-König, o-oh shit," you gasped. Your heart skipped a beat as the his rugged nose continued to gingerly rub your bundle of nerves as he swayed his head side to side. Your moans grew louder with every wet stroke of his tongue. Intoxicating pleasure swelled and bubbled through your pulsing core as you ground your hips against his warm mouth. You threw your head back as your love gently puckered his lips around your clit while flicking the tip of his tongue over the surface of your button.

"F-Fuck!" you groaned as your walls fluttered. König grunted, the sound reverberating deep within your sensitive heat as he suckled on your needy clit. Your hips began to rock even faster against his face, the bed creaking beneath your thrusts as he flattened his soft tongue over your engorged bundle of nerves. The muscles in your lower belly began to wind tighter and tighter as he enveloped his lips over your entire lower lips. The wet sounds of him sloppily making out with your gushing, hot pussy driving you deeper into a lustful frenzy.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt him dip his tongue inside of your puckering hole, your juices cascading down his chin and pooling around the bottom of his thick neck. His low, gutteral grunt sent shivers through your core as your body balanced on the edge of your release.

"K-König, Mmmm-fuck, I-I'm so close!" you keened as your hips wetly slapped against his face. Your husband dove his tongue even deeper inside your slick cavern as his fingers snuck around your hips. You gasped and arched your back as he rubbed slow, languid circles around your bundle of nerves while curling his agile muscle inside your tight heat.

"König!" you screamed as stars danced across your vision. Your hips bucked forward as your legs shook around his head, the muscles deep in your core violently clenching around König’s tongue. A thick, creamy ring of white formed around his pink muscle as your thighs tightly squeezed around his ears.

"Yes, yes," you panted as your warm slick painted his stubbly chin. You swallowed thickly before slowly blinking your eyes open, your head still spinning after your intense release as you caught your breath. Your body shivered as König loosened his grip around your thighs, allowing you to shakily raise your hips. Your jaw went slack when you saw how utterly soaked his lower face was.

"O-Oh my god!" you gasped, the tips of your ears burning as you scrambled off of your husband. His chest heaved as he gazed at the ceiling with a far-away look in his eyes. "Sweetheart? A-Are you okay?" you asked as you carefully cupped his face. You stroked his cheekbones with your thumbs before he suddenly snatched your wrists.

You squeaked when he quickly shot up and pinned you to the mattress, his wet lips finding yours with ease. Your cheeks filled with warmth as you tasted yourself on his tongue while he rubbed his clothed erection over your raw heat. You both panted for air when he eventually pulled back, his lips curved into a small grin.

"That was amazing, Mäuschen," König beamed as his large hand squeezed your wrists above your head. You couldn't help but let out a small giggle as you blushed.

"You were amazing," you murmured, your head still spinning with the bliss of your sweet release. Your husband chuckled softly before pecking your lips, his body gently rocking against yours as the two of you groaned. Your heart raced as you watched him dip his arm down the side of the bed. The metallic sound of his belt buckle clinking made your sex throb with insatiable need. A wave of goosebumps washed over your skin as you watched him gently tie the leather piece around your wrists, tugging on it until it was snug around your arms.

"How does that feel? Is it too tight?" he whispered, his lips just barely ghosting over the shell of your ear. You shook your head, the pulse between your legs growing more and more unbearable.

"N-No. It feels perfect," you murmured in reply. König nodded slowly before he kissed your forehead.

"Alright. Just remember: the safeword is always there if you need it," he rumbled while tracing his calloused fingers along your cheek. You smiled softly and nodded before watching as he wrapped one of his large hands around the base of his cock.

"Mein gott, I love seeing you like this," König groaned as he slowly began stroke himself. "All spread out...just for me," your love rumbled as he used his the other hand to spread your puffy, flushed folds apart.

You moaned as he gingerly massaged your clit with the pad of his thumb as he curled his fist around his throbbing dick. Your eyes lit up when you saw his bulbous tip was already weeping with heavy, translucent beads of salty precum. You bit your lip as he continued to trace slow circles around your bundle of nerves while guiding his tip to your oozing pussy lips.

"Are you ready for me, Schatz?" he murmured as he gently pressed his thumb against your delicate button. You swallowed thickly and nodded as your walls ached for the steady drag of his veiny shaft.

"Y-Yes, mein großer Bär," you moaned into his ear. Your beloved growled deeply before you felt the flush tip of his cock kiss your entrance. You tilted your head back and wrapped your ankles around the back of his knees as you felt his bulbous head part the tight rim of your slick entrance with a loud squelch.

"Ohhhh mein gott," König sucked in a sharp breath as he slowly slid inside your tight heat, his prominent veins caressing your warm, velvety walls. Your breath hitched as your pussy grew tighter with every inch he pushed into you, your wrists squirming in the snug grip of his belt.

"Y-You're just as tight as before - Scheiße, so gut," König breathed as he rubbed his calloused thumb back and forth over your sensitive clit [Shit, so good]. Both of you let out a soft gasp when he finally bottomed out, his heavy balls resting against your puffy slit. Your husband sighed deeply before he rested his forehead against yours, his cock twitching as it rested deep inside your snug cunt.

"F-Fuck, it's so much," you swallowed thickly as you could feel his dick throbbing against your plush cervix. You felt a ghost of a smile pressed against your lips as he sighed.

"I know, mein Schatz. Just take some deep breaths for me," König whispered tenderly as he slowly pulled his hips back. You moaned and dug your heels into the back of his thighs as he pushed back into your gummy walls, a trail of your slick gushing down your slit and painting the ruffled blanket below.

"Ohhh fuck," you panted as he kept flicking his thumb over your wet clit. König clenched his jaw as he locked eyes with you, your breasts bouncing each time his hips slapped against yours.

The bedframe began to creak and groan at his even rhythm, each drag of his cock leaving you breathless and desperate for your release. The slow, steady pace was driving you wild with need, your walls practically pulsing and aching for him to go faster. König stopped when you let out a small, quiet whine.

"(Y/N), what's wrong? Do you need to use the safe word?" he asked in a quiet, hushed voice. You shook your head quickly.

"N-No. König...please go faster. I-I don't want you to hold back," you mewled and arched your hips against his. Your husband parted his lips as he gazed into your eyes.

"A-Are you sure, (Y/N)?" he grunted, his ginger brows pinched together and lips curved into a frown. You nodded your head vigorously as you squirmed beneath him.

"Bitte, Liebling – hämmere mich in die Matratze," you pleaded with a high-pitched moan [Please, darling - pound me into the mattress]. Your eyes widened when he grabbed the back of your legs, a feral fire burning in his eyes as he shoved your legs up to your chest. You groaned as your puffy tummy poked out, your knees squished against your soft breasts as you gulped for air.

"K-König!" you squealed as he squeezed the back of your knees, his lips puckered over your pulse as he rapidly pounded into your cunt. Your pussy clenched around his girthy shaft as you released a wailing sob of bliss. He moaned as he suckled on your neck, the sound of skin wetly slapping against skin echoing inside your dark bedroom as the bed creaked even louder.

The tip of his cock brutally rocked against your g-spot as he frantically drove his dick into your velvety, oversensitive sex.

"S-Scheiße," König cursed between gritted teeth as he squeezed your legs. Your thick asscheeks began to clap with his rapid thrusting as the familiar tight knot began to form deep within the depths of your belly. Your moans and whimpers filled the room as he licked over the fresh hickey he decorated over your skin, his cock fervently splitting your sopping cunt wide open.

You panted heavily, your head spinning a the knot grew tighter and hotter. Your hands curled into fists as you strained against the belt, your eyes growing wide as you gasped.

"A-Ah! König!" you screamed as your hips snapped forward. Your lips parted into a perfect circle as your walls gripped his thick length in a vice. You sobbed as your cunt spasmed and contracted incessantly as your mind dissolved into ecstasy.

"M-Maus, oh mein gott," König sucked in a sharp breath as his thrusts began to stutter. Your head continued to spin with pleasure as he dug his nails deep into your skin.

"M-Mmm, s-so good, baby," you moaned as you felt his warm lips press against your neck, his breathing growing ragged as he inhaled your scent.

"(Y/N), God, I'm so close," König grunted against your goosebump-riddled skin as his swollen cock throbbed. The movement made a pulse of pleasure rush through your core, your body twitching with overstimulation as you moaned.

"P-Please, fill me up," you begged as you squeezed his dick with your gummy walls. A strangled moan flew from deep inside his throat as his hips moved impossibly faster.

"S-S-Scheiße, S-Scheiße," your love rasped before he slammed his taut hips down with one last, powerful thrust. His gutteral moan made your eyes nearly roll back as you felt him still against you.

"K-König," you murmured his name with a shiver as his cock painted your stretched out cunt with thick, sticky ropes of his seed. You mewled and panted as you felt his milky cum fill you to the brim, pearly drops of his release forming around the base of his cock and dripping down your slit.

König swallowed thickly as his breathing began to steady, his hands giving the back of your knees one last, gentle squeeze before he peppered your neck with kisses. You sighed and closed your eyes as his warm mouth danced across your skin, his hands now rubbing your hips in circles as he exhaled slowly.

"Are you feeling okay? Are you sore anywhere?" he mumbled against your pulse. You blinked your eyes open and smiled.

"N-No, I'm fine. Just a bit out of breath," you said with a quiet sigh. You felt him grin against your neck before he gently untied your wrists.

"Let's get you cleaned up, ja?" König cooed as he scooped you up into his burly arms.

༺♥༻

You laid on the fresh, crisp bedsheets with your loving husband after taking a long bath together. Your ankle gently wrapped around his as you traced lazy shaped over his thick, muscular back. König sighed as he brushed some wet locks of your hair away from your plump cheek.

"Danke," he murmured with a yawn, his eyelids starting to flutter [Thank you]. You smiled softly and tilted your head.

"For what?" you whispered. König smiled and rested his hand against the side of your face.

"For taking such good care of me," he replied with a dreamy, half-lidded smile. You cooed softly and pecked his lips.

"You're welcome, König," you said with a calm, gentle smile. Your husband yawned again as he slowly closed his eyes.

"Süße Träume, mein kleiner Hase," König murmured before letting out a soft snore [Sweet dreams, my little rabbit]. You giggled quietly as you traced your thumb over the scar across his bottom lip.

"Schlaf gut, mein großer Bär," you whispered softly and laid a soft kiss to his temple [Sleep well, my big bear]. You sighed and closed your eyes, falling asleep in the safe haven of your beloved's arms.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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