#i am merely expressing exasperation

[starrierknight]

I see one more silly ass semi-realism fanart where Satoru Gojo is turned into Stan Gode then there will be riots......... that is a Japanese man!!!!!!!!!! he's pale/fair, not of the mayo monster variety!!!!

[ebodebo]

The Girl Can't Help It

-thinking about bodyguard!simon with princess!reader... MDNI

An unfamiliar knot twisted in your stomach at the sight. It was preposterous. Unbeknownst. A damn eye sore. A throng of women, all betrothed, all but ripping Simon, your bodyguard's, clothes off his body. 

How unbecoming.

You did not heed what the Prince of Prussia said, perhaps something about his recent diplomatic mission in Tahiti. All you could think about was Simon and the slew of women around him, boasting as if he would care about the wealth and jewels the women possessed or the innuendos they slipped into conversation.

Granted, he only replied with a bland array of 'mhm' or 'how insightful.' His disinterested tone did nothing to nudge the woman away.

"Your mind appears elsewhere, Princess," The Prince of Prussia remarked, absolving you of your thoughts. You flick your eyes to his, sucking in a breath.

"My apologies," you say. "I am feeling rather ill. Pardon me." You quickly issue. You are sure your mother and father would reevaluate your informalities, but you would deal with that when it came.

You find yourself turning swiftly to approach Simon. He's as poised as always, his hands neatly in front of him, resting on the other, despite the conversation around him.

Your eyes shifted between the women. You are sure one scowled at you for 'interrupting.' "I am feeling quite daft. I shall like to leave," you proclaim to Simon. His eyes flick to you, but his head stays stationary.

"Your father has asked that you say the entire time," He says casually. "For prospects." You tilt your head a bit, releasing an irritated sigh.

"I believe you should have more regard for what I am asking of you," you exasperated. He tilts his head slightly, merely squinting his eyes, clearly aware of some underlying factor in your sudden mood change.

"I'm afraid the king's orders are final, Princess," he says, fixating his eyes back on the crowd. You swear you see one of the women smirk, and suddenly, you get an urge to drag her through the mud in the pig's pen, and maybe that will wipe that smirk off her face.

If not, the sheep's pen shall do the job.

"The princess has finally felt the sting of rejection," one of the women whispers under her breath to another, loud enough so she knows you hear her. "Oh, I do wonder what that will do to her psyche," the woman snickers sarcastically looking directly into your eyes.

You suck in a breath. "You should be wary of your words," you begin; the woman's brow lifts up slightly, a conceding expression taking over her face, "I shall be the next sovereign, commanding a whole country, and you shall stay just as you are, in a loveless marriage, betrothed to a man who initiates more moves on your milkmaid than you," you enunciate.

The woman scoffs, her face blushing, as she tries to discredit your words. She dishes out every excuse for her husband's endeavors, but it is hard to discredit fact, which is what it was. She instead calls you foul-mouthed and haphazardly turns to go towards the drinks.

The other woman hurriedly followed her out of fear.

You turned towards Simon, who couldn't help how the corner of his lips quipped. "Big words for a princess," he remarks.

"Well—I would not have to use such...vocabulary if she would have minded her own business," you defend, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Whatever you say," he smirked a little before returning to the crowd, returning to a serious expression. You eye him, feeling slightly intimidated by his stature.

"I shall still like to leave, Simon," you press. He turns to you, his eyebrow raising impatiently.

"I told you—" He begins, his tone dry.

"I am aware of what you told me all of two minutes ago, Simon," you roll your eyes. "I still want to leave. There are no men to consider for the prospectus. And I am growing quite weary of you not listening to me," you conclude, eyes narrowing at him.

He lets out a dry laugh. "Alright, Your Highness. Let's get your poor, weary body out of here." You find yourself rolling your eyes yet again at his sarcastic tone. Though, you don't speak on it. You turn to walk out of the grand doorway, carefully moving through the sea of other patrons, many attempting to stop your stride to converse. You keep moving, with Simon following close behind.

Once you step into the hallway, you quickly scan the area, checking for loose guests. You smile when you realize everyone is occupied in the stateroom, swiftly gripping Simon's hand and moving the two of you into the small closet adjacent to your father's music room.

Simon locks the door to the quaint closet, his eyes burning into yours as he tightly grips your waist. "A closet?" He props as you delicately untie his tie, tossing it to the side.

"We cannot simply go into the music room. Did you forget what happened last time?" You raise a brow. He leans his face down, pressing deep kisses to your temple while slipping the short sleeve of your dress down your shoulder.

"I have no idea what you're talkin' about," he mutters into your collarbone, lips dragging to kiss your sternum. You release a small, breathy moan, bringing your hands to thread through his light hair.

"You broke my father's piano," you meant for it to come out assertive, but it came out more breathless. He snakes his hand around your back, carefully dragging the zipper down, making your dress pool at your feet.

"I seem to remember you were the one on the keys," he gruffs into your lips before engulfing them with his own.

It had only been a few days since the last time you and Simon had...connected. However, with how both of your bodies react to a simple kiss, you would have guessed it has been months.

"Because you put me on the keys," you choke out as Simon's tongue drags across your sensitive skin, starting at your neck all the way until he's sunk down on his knees in front of you.

"Since you have a better memory than me, what did we do after I put you on the keys?" He murmured into the flesh of your thigh, teeth grazing the fabric of the waistband of your panties. You grip his head, pushing more into you, desperate for more friction. "Huh?" He tuts against your skin.

"I—you, well, we had intercourse," you say earnestly, gripping the shelf behind you to gain more stability. His gruff laugh traveled up your leg all the way up to your mouth, eliciting a moan from you.

"Intercourse?" He jibed. "No. Gimme all the gruesome details, baby. None of that proper shit." He moved his face from your thigh to press a deep kiss to your clothed cunt.

"I do not know—ah—what you speak of," you choke out, attempting to push yourself into his face more with your hands gripping either side of his cheeks.

"Come on," he urged, his nose rubbing against your clit in the process. "Don't play dumb with me, sweetheart." He grips your thighs, tugging himself closer to you. He substituted his nose in favor of his mouth, hurriedly pressing his hot, wet lips to your aching clit.

You whine as you feel the friction increase. "Tell me, or I won't let you come," he groans into you. You reply with a pathetic whimper, body shamelessly grinding against his face.

"You used—you used your fingers," You grit out, throwing your head back as his teeth pierced through the thin fabric. He slips his tongue through the new tear, lapsing at your throbbing clit.

"That all?" His brisque voice vibrated against you.

"No. You, you fucked me," you voice. You receive a low groan in response. Got him. "I was so wet you just, you just slipped in," you continue, moaning as you see one of his hands slip from one of your thighs to massage his clothed cock.

"My, my. Sure got a tongue on you for a princess," he jests, a strain in his voice as he massages himself with much pace. His mouth picks up the pace on your cunt, tongue continuing to lapse around your sensitive bud.

"I could say the same for you, Simon. " Your voice is hoarse. You feel the corners of his mouth lift at your innuendo, which makes you form a smirk of your own.

"Keep talkin' to me," he almost begs. His hand and mouth are moving briskly; you're grinding against his face, hands gripping the back of his head.

"Fuck, you, you feel so good," you whine out. You swear you hear him moan, but you can't be too sure as his face is currently suffocating against your skin. You would ask him if he could breathe, but you knew he wouldn't move until you came.

"You always feel so fucking good," you wail as your orgasm hits you like a train, Simon's following shortly behind. He's gripping you tight so as not to fall over, leaning his forehead into your stomach as his orgasm settles.

Once both of your post-orgasmic haze dissipates, Simon stands to straighten out your dress. You bend slightly to pick up his tie strung on the ground, carefully tying it around his neck neatly.

"You have soiled your trousers," you observe, looking down at the wet spot on the front rise of his slacks. He lets out a quiet laugh at your inspection, leaning his head down to kiss the shell of your ear, muttering a gruff, 'And whose fault is that?'

Shit, maybe this whole bodyguard thing wasn't so bad.

a/n: boomshakalaka yesss gawdddd

reblogs & comments encouraged!

[finalgirllx]

slytherin boys react to being called 'daddy'

I'm not a writer i'm just kinky | chars always aged up | unedited includes: theo, mattheo, and enzo. minors dni | pure filth | F! reader implied

Theo:

Theo doesn't ask to be called daddy, and you're too shy to approach it. That is, until a late-night study session in his dorm room unsurprisingly turns into a heated makeout session between the two of you.

Theo has you perched on his desk with your legs spread so he can settle between them. His blue eyes pierce yours, and the lust in his expression is unmistakable.

With one of his hands caressing your cheek, the other moves lower to ghost over your thighs, searching for the go-ahead from you to continue. This growing pit in your stomach to ask a certain question finally boils to the surface.

"Can I call you daddy?" you blurt out, almost immediately regretting the words as they leave your lips.

Theo's stare doesn't waver as his fingers then move to press against the fabric of your panties over your folds.

"Just the thought of calling me that leaves you so fucking wet for me, doesn't it, principessa? Of course you can. now be good for daddy, and let me feel that perfect fucking pussy."

Mattheo:

This man is super upfront about wanting to be called daddy. In fact, he would refer to himself as 'daddy' first to test the waters, hoping to see if you respond well. A few times, he tries off-handedly to find out, and you appear a little hesitant.

Then, one fateful evening, after too much teasing on your end, you find yourself getting railed into his mattress. Mattheo holds onto your waist with a bruising grip as he pounds into you at a merciless pace, sending a sharp smack to your ass as he asks, "You like how daddy fucks you, huh? You like being daddy's little fucktoy?"

"Yes, daddy! please fuck me," you babble obediently in response. In your dumbed-out, cock drunk state, calling him daddy becomes the hottest thing you've ever said. Mattheo, of course, agrees, letting out a low growl and fucking you even faster as you continue to scream it.

"Atta girl, that's what I am, your fucking daddy," Mattheo praises you, showering you with more praises and degradations until finally filling you until you're leaking with his cum.

Enzo:

Enzo had rudely disrupted a tutoring session you were taking from another male student when he had judged that the boy was 'too close for comfort.' Feeling exasperated by his possessive side, you chew him out, causing him to bring you to the nearest broom closet and order you to your knees to get facefucked. You watched him unbuckle his pants eagerly, having no complaints about his chosen method to punish the brat out of you.

Enzo uses a makeshift ponytail of your hair to bob your head up and down the entire length of his cock for some time. He eventually pulls you away in order to take in the beautiful sight of your wet eyes as you stare up at him, waiting for more commands.

"You look so fucking beautiful on your knees for me, you know that? So damn perfect. And you're fucking mine, remember that?"

"Yes, daddy, I'm yours."

It just slipped out. Neither of you had even approached the subject, though it had been stirring in your subconscious for some time, which explains why it came out when you were desperate to please him.

Enzo's eyes flashed with surprise for a mere second before he let out a guttural moan and brought your lips back to his cock to continue thrusting into your mouth.

"You want me to be your daddy, huh? Fuck, doll, that's so fucking hot," he groaned, clearly closer to his orgasm than before you had said that magic word.

"Be good for your daddy now and keep throating me like the pretty slut you are."

[radiance1]

"Old fuck!" Said Dan as he kicked down the wall to Vlad's office. Vlad only let out a sigh, apologizing for the noise and then ending the meeting right then and there. He glanced over at Dan and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Do you truly have no concept of a door?"

"It's more fun this way," He mentioned offhandedly as he stomped his way over the Vlad's desk and slammed his hands down on it. "Do something for me!"

Vlad, silently, moured the loss of another table and those three glorious months of peace. He looked Dan in the eyes and raised an eyebrow. "And what, exactly, do you want me to do for you?"

"So you know Superman-"

"No."

Dan reared back like he'd been slapped. "The fuck!? You didn't even hear me out yet!"

"I don't need to." Vlad calmly sipped at his tea that wasn't there a second ago, and then let out another sigh. "And do stop screaming obscenities at me, it is horribly low-class and you're better than that."

"You're only saying that because I'm a fusion of you." Dan pointed out with a deadpan expression. Vlad snorted. "Obviously."

"Hear me out and I'll think about it."

Vlad sighed again, crunching away at a cookie -seriously where is he getting all of this??- before waving a hand in Dan's direction that basically said "Go on."

"Alright so Superman, you know the guy and you most certainly know his weakness." He swipped a cookie, then continued at Vlad's nod. "Kryptonite, nasty stuff yea. You know who uses Kryptonite the most out of basically everyone?"

"Lex Luthor."

"Lex fucking Luthor."

Vlad placed his teacup onto the desk, threading his fingers together and resting his chin on them as he stared the fusion down. "You know, if you wanted me to... complicate, his gathering of Kryptonite. You could have just led with that."

"Would it have worked?" Dan genuinely asked.

"I would have thought it over a bit more before my refusal." Vlad answered and Dan growled. "Just accept already you old-timer."

"Now, now. If I didn't know any better, I would think that you were perhaps, worried about the Man of Steel himself?" At that, Vlad's eyes turned red as a playful smirk graced his lips.

Dan's eyes narrowed as he lifted a finger towards Vlad acusingly. "Don't you dare try your mind control bullshit on me."

Vlad chuckled. "Oh I would not dream of it, I was merely..." Vlad's eyes shined with mirth as he deliberately paused. "Stating an assumption."

Dan hissed, translating his sheer annoyance through ghost speak while Vlad respond back with a purr. More than throuoghly pleased.

Usually, it was the other way around.

"You can go to hell with your assumptions." He leaned over the desk, destroying it even further as he his claws dug into it. "Either you deal with him or I'll do it myself."

Vlad stared him down for a good few moments, the room falling silent as they stared each other down. Vlad sighed. "Fine, I don't need your little temper tantrum leaving me with such a giant mess to clean up." He tapped a button under his desk -mercifully safe from the destruction- and waved Dan away. "Now if you will excuse yourself, I have a few calls to make, a desk to replace, you know the works."

Dan nodded and over to the giant hole in the wall before pausing. He reached out with ghost speak, sending out a violent threat through intent if he did not follow through.

Vlad simply responded with nonchalance, exasperation, and even a bit of annoyance.

A few weeks later

Lex Luthor is livid.

Someone has been buying up all of the Kryptonite before he could get to it, which should be impossible in itself. But no, then they proceeded to mess with the shipments he managed to get his hands on, interrupt deals to acquire them and even outright destroyed a few.

He has his own stockpile for emergencies, yes. But it's very noticeably dwindling.

Meanwhile with Vlad

"Now what exactly am I supposed to do with all of this?" Vlad asked himself, staring at the large pit of Kryptonite capable of filling multiple warehouses.

Honestly, it was utterly useless to him.

[suiana]

(yandere! psycho x gn! reader) (shitpost)

"will you be the air to my lungs?"

"sir, i am your therapist."

he stares at you for a second, blinking slowly before he starts wheezing, clutching his chest tightly.

"oh no... oh dear me! i am... dying of an asthma attack now... I'm afraid i need... air..."

you stare at the dramatic male, an exasperated expression on your features. you stare at him in distaste, finding his presence more and more unbearable by the second.

seriously, you were his therapist for god's sake! why does he keep trying to get together with you of all people?!

"get up. i will not tolerate your dramatic acts anymore."

you merely comment on his behavior with a judgmental glance, turning back to type away at your laptop as you tune out the male's whines.

god, sometimes you wonder why you became a therapist when you have to deal with people like this.

[howcouldmuffin]

Suits Me.

With your sister wed, the realization dawns—you are next. Thus, you begin seeking what truly befits you.

PAIRING : Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

WARNING : KISS, Non-canon

AN : I’ve always thought of Gwayne as my ideal gentleman. I hope you enjoy this piece of writing. Love.

please be kind to me English is not my first language.

“I desire a man of a composed nature, one who is not quick to anger.” you declared, your voice steady yet tinged with a hint of yearning. You were describing the ideal qualities of a husband to the person who shared the room with you, a figure whose attention seemed divided—though it was hard to tell if he was more captivated by your words or by the enchanting presence of the young woman who occupied his thoughts.

Your acquaintance with Sir Gwayne had begun rather serendipitously at your father’s most recent nuptials. He had attended in honor of his sister’s marriage, a grand affair where the echoes of laughter mingled with the clinking of goblets and the rustle of silk. It was on the secluded balcony, away from the festivities, that your paths first truly crossed. You, seeking solitude from the overwhelming company, had stumbled upon him, a knight known more for his quiet presence than for any overt display of gallantry. Initially, suspicion had flickered in your mind—was his interest in you born of some hidden agenda? But as the days passed, such thoughts faded into insignificance, replaced by a growing sense of familiarity.

“I see no reason for you to rush into choosing a suitor.” he remarked after a long stretch of contemplative silence, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of unspoken thoughts. His words caused you to pause, turning your gaze toward him as you rose from the sofa where you had been languidly reclined in the sanctuary of the library.

“I am not rushing.” you replied, your tone defensive but with a hint of introspection. “I am merely exercising prudence, weighing my options with care.”

“You are a princess.” he said, his voice soft yet firm, “and with that title comes the liberty to court whomever you wish. For now, would it not be wiser to savor the delights of youth? There is time yet for the bonds of matrimony.”

“Why do you persist in this notion that I should delay my marriage?” you inquired, a trace of exasperation slipping into your voice. “Surely, you do not speak from experience. Or perhaps.” you added, your eyes narrowing as a thought occurred to you, “you have never been married yourself?”

“And why would you assume that?” he countered, his surprise evident. With measured steps, you approached him, a new idea taking root in your mind. If you were to assist him in finding a suitable wife, perhaps it would broaden your own circle of acquaintance, and in turn, increase your chances of meeting a gentleman who might suit you.

“Perhaps you should consider marriage yourself.” you suggested, your voice taking on a tone of playful challenge. “Surely, there is a woman out there who could capture your heart.”

“That, I cannot entertain.” he replied, standing abruptly and distancing himself from you, his expression resolute, yet clouded with a faint shadow of unease.

“Since the day I met you, I have never known you to be attached to any woman.” you continued, undeterred. “Though you claim to have had lovers, I suspect such affairs occurred far from these walls. Perhaps helping you secure a match would aid me in finding a fiancé as well.”

“Princess.” he began, a note of reluctance in his voice, “I have no intentions of marrying anytime soon, for my heart is already given.”

“To whom?” you asked, the question slipping from your lips before you could restrain it.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I am not yet ready to divulge that secret, but I promise you, when the time is right, you will be the first to know.”

“Do I know her?” you pressed, curiosity now fully piqued.

“Indeed.” he replied, his voice tight, “you know her exceedingly well.”

“Then you must tell me!” you urged, stepping closer, your voice now filled with genuine concern. “How else can I assist you? If you do not act swiftly, another might claim her hand, and you would be left to mourn what could have been.”

“True.” he conceded, his lips curving into a faint smile, though it did not reach his eyes. “She is admired by many, but I believe no one could be a better match for her than I.”

“Who could challenge you?” you teased lightly. “You are the son of Otto, Hand of the King, a knight of great renown, brother to the Queen herself. You could have any lady you desire, perhaps even… me.”

“Ah, but what of her heart?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper as he stepped closer still, his eyes locking with yours. “Guard your affections, Princess. Do not let them stray before I have a chance to make my claim.”

His nearness sent a jolt through you, your heart pounding in a way that was both exhilarating and unsettling. True, he was a man of striking appearance, his features carved as if by the hand of a master sculptor, but until this moment, the thought of him as your potential husband had never crossed your mind. Yet, his words carried an implication that left you breathless.

“Then I shall wish her well.” you murmured, your voice barely audible as you averted your gaze, the sudden rush of emotions overwhelming. “May she remain unattached until you are ready to speak your mind.”

With that, you turned away, retreating to the safety of the sofa, though the book you picked up could do little to quiet the turmoil within. Your heart rebelled against the calm you tried to project.

“I must take my leave now, Princess.” he said softly, the formal tone returning to his voice.

You nodded, unable to lift your eyes to meet his, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. It was not often that you found yourself flustered in the presence of a man, especially one who was so highly sought after by others. You had often admired him from afar, and in truth, he would make a most suitable match. But it seemed fate had other plans, for his heart was already spoken for. And as for yours—well, that remained to be seen.

“Smile a bit, Sir Gwayne. The children are watching.” you whispered softly to him as he demonstrated the basic weapons of a knight, a spectacle meant to both instruct and inspire the eager young minds gathered around.

“I only came with you because you said your usual knight was unavailable.” he murmured through gritted teeth, ensuring his words reached no ears but yours. Yet, despite his reluctance, he obliged the children’s requests with a weary smile that, though tinged with exasperation, made you stifle a laugh.

“Consider it a favor to me.” you replied with a playful lilt. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

After the day’s visit to the townsfolk concluded, you returned to your chambers, where you indulged in a long, warm bath, washing away the dust and the fatigue of the day. You dressed anew, choosing a gown of soft gold, simple yet elegant, and arranged your hair with modest care. Just as you were about to step out to join your family for the evening meal, you found someone already waiting outside your door.

“You should have knocked. You could have waited inside my room.” you said as you closed the door behind you. “Are you here to claim the favor I owe you?”

“No.” he replied, his tone even. “The Queen sent me to fetch you. It seems you’re running a bit late.”

“In that case, we should hurry.”

You took the lead as you walked down the corridor, your footsteps echoing lightly against the stone floor. Though he was not originally meant to join the family at dinner, your father, ever the gracious host, had extended an invitation when he saw an empty seat beside you. It was a small surprise, but a welcome one—you would have a chance to speak with him more about the day’s events.

The meal progressed smoothly, with conversation flowing freely around the table. As was his custom, Sir Gwayne offered to escort you back to your chambers once the evening had drawn to a close, just as he had done on other nights following shared meals or court gatherings. Despite the growing rumors circulating about the two of you, you paid them little mind, though you couldn’t help but worry that they might affect the woman Gwayne held in his heart.

“Perhaps we should keep more distance from each other.” you said quietly as you walked the familiar path back to your room.

“Why?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “Is there someone you’ve set your heart on?”

“No, nothing like that” you replied, shaking your head. “But the rumors about us are becoming more frequent, and I don’t think it bodes well for either of us.” He looked at you, confusion etched across his face. “If I were in love with someone, I wouldn’t want him to be linked to another woman through idle gossip.”

To your surprise, he chuckled. “So, you’re concerned about me, then?”

You nodded, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise in your cheeks. Your heart betrayed you once more, beating far too quickly for your liking. Without thinking, you quickened your pace, desperate to hide the warmth spreading across your face. Noticing this, Gwayne lengthened his strides to match yours.

“I don’t pay any mind to those rumors.” he said, his tone casual. “But I suppose it would be unseemly for our Princess to be the subject of such talk, especially if it involves me.” His words left you with a strange sense of disappointment, though you could not quite understand why. A slight irritation flared within you, unbidden and unexplained.

“I’m not concerned about it at all.” you answered dismissively, brushing off his comment as you reached your door. “Goodnight.” you added curtly, before stepping inside and closing the door behind you, leaving him to stand, perplexed, outside your chamber.

In the grand ballroom, with its resplendent chandeliers casting a warm, golden light, you found yourself entwined in a dance with Lord Cedric. His conversation, though amiable and courteous, failed to hold your full attention. Your gaze kept drifting toward Sir Gwayne, who, amidst a throng of eager admirers, was the center of attention. His presence, commanding and dignified, was accentuated by the swarm of women vying for his favor.

“Princess… Princess.” Lord Cedric’s voice, tinged with concern, reached you, rousing you from your daydream.

“My apologies, Lord Cedric.” you said with a slight blush, your voice betraying an edge of fatigue. “I have grown rather weary this evening and must take my leave.”

You disengaged from the dance and, with purposeful strides, sought refuge at the nearest table, where a decanter of wine awaited. The crystalline goblet, filled with rich, ruby-red liquid, seemed to beckon you. The wine’s warmth spread through you, a balm to the unrest that you could not quite fathom.

As the wine flowed, so did your inhibitions. The haze of intoxication lent you a boldness that you might not otherwise possess. Lords continued to solicit your company for dances, and you accepted with a newfound abandon. The evening’s merriment, combined with the wine’s effects, made you more flirtatious than usual. Your movements, graceful and deliberate, drew admiring gazes and appreciative murmurs. You felt the hands of various suitors, some daringly touching your waist, others almost reaching for more intimate areas. Each time, you managed to redirect their attention with practiced ease.

“Lord Cedric.” you said, your voice laced with a suggestive lilt as you gripped his broad shoulder, “you truly have a knack for making this evening delightful. I can scarcely imagine how fortunate the woman who wins your hand will be.”

Your eyes locked with his, and you leaned in slightly, allowing his hands to encircle your waist with a languid familiarity. The atmosphere between you was charged, almost palpable.

But just as the moment seemed to reach its zenith, Sir Gwayne appeared, a determined look on his face. He grasped your wrist with a firm yet gentle hold, guiding you away from the revelry. His stride was brisk, forcing you to keep pace, and you found yourself pleading for him to slow down.

Upon reaching a quieter, more secluded corridor, he finally halted. You steadied yourself, the wine’s effects making your head spin and your heart race.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice low but intense. “You’re behaving like a courtesan in a disreputable establishment.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” you replied, a mix of confusion and indignation coloring your voice. “I am merely enjoying myself.”

“That Lord was on the brink of kissing you!” he exclaimed, his frustration evident. “Do you not realize how forward he was? How could you permit such liberties?”

“It is merely the way of dancing.” you said, though his words stung more than you cared to admit. “You are overreacting.”

“But you are a Princess.” he said, his voice softening but still firm. “It is unbecoming of you to act so… freely. Do you understand?”

You nodded, feeling a tinge of remorse as his anger seemed to dissipate. Despite the tumult of emotions swirling within you, you did not wish to return to the ball. Instead, you expressed your desire to retire to your chamber. With no choice but to carry you, Sir Gwayne lifted you with a tenderness that belied his earlier agitation.

In the solitude of your room, he placed you gently on the bed. He meticulously arranged the blankets, ensuring your comfort as he tucked them around you. As he adjusted the cover over your chest, you reached out and took his hand, your touch lingering.

The proximity between you was electric, and the tension between you both was almost tangible. With a deep breath, you lifted your face to his and pressed your lips against his. The kiss, initially hesitant, soon grew into a tender exchange of passion and longing. However, as you began to regain your clarity, you pulled away, a mixture of regret and yearning in your eyes.

Sir Gwayne, his expression one of profound turmoil, rose swiftly from the bed. “I am deeply sorry, Your Highness. Please forgive me.” he stammered, his voice a strained whisper. Without waiting for a response, he fled the room, leaving you alone amidst a swirl of conflicting emotions.

As you lay there, the weight of what had transpired settled heavily upon you. The room seemed colder now, the remnants of your emotional turmoil hanging in the air. Your heart ached with a mix of sorrow and unspoken affection, knowing that this moment, however fleeting, had altered everything between you.

The air is thick with scandalous whispers, each rumor more outrageous than the last. Tales circulate of him entering your chamber under the cover of night, while you, bereft of clarity due to your inebriation and unattended by your maidens, were left exposed to gossip and innuendo. The degradation of his reputation and your own only compounds your deepening sense of remorse.

A maid enters your chamber with a solemn expression, announcing, “His Majesty requests your presence, Your Highness.”

You nod, masking your trepidation with a veneer of composure. “I shall go.” you reply.

As you traverse the grand corridors toward the royal study, your heart beats with an uneasy rhythm. The room before you, adorned with opulent tapestries and the grandeur befitting the royal court, now feels stifling. Your father, seated at his imposing desk, appears stern and unyielding, while Gwayne, standing by the window, avoids your gaze with a palpable discomfort.

The air is thick with tension as your father begins, his voice laden with disapproval. “There have been alarming rumors regarding Sir Gwayne. Pray, elucidate what has transpired.”

You turn to Gwayne, his demeanor averted, his countenance a study in restraint. “I.. well, Sir Gwayne was merely kind enough to escort me to my chamber after I became somewhat indisposed due to excessive libations—”

“Is that so?” your father interrupts, his voice rising. He slams his palm on the desk with a force that echoes through the room. “You allowed a gentleman, not of the King’s Guard, to carry you in such a state? What of my honor? What of the propriety expected of a princess?”

Viserys collapses into his high-backed chair, his hand pressed to his forehead in exasperation. The grand room, with its rich wood paneling and gilded accents, seems to close in around you.

Otto, ever the pragmatist, interjects with a stern resolve, “I believe we must act swiftly, Your Majesty. A marriage between the princess and Sir Gwayne should be arranged without delay.”

The very thought of such an arrangement sends a shiver down your spine. You are acutely aware of Gwayne’s likely opposition to this forced union.

“He only helped me to my room.” you argue, your voice a blend of desperation and defiance. “Nothing untoward occurred. If we proceed with this marriage, it will only serve to validate the most nefarious rumors.”

“Enough!” Your father’s voice booms, cutting through the air with finality. “Return to your quarters and prepare yourself for what is to come.”

Overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions, you steal a final glance at Gwayne, who stands with a look of profound disappointment. The realization that you have brought shame upon him, as well as upon yourself, weighs heavily upon you. You hasten from the study, tears streaming freely, unable to meet his eyes.

“Wait!” Gwayne’s voice rings out, halting you in your tracks. You turn slowly, your face streaked with the evidence of your sorrow.

“I… I am deeply sorry,” you manage to stammer, your voice quaking with emotion. “I am truly, truly sorry.”

His gaze softens, a mix of bewilderment and tenderness in his eyes. “What is it that you are apologizing for?”

“I..I made you marry me instead of the one you truly love.” you stammer, tears continuing to flow down your cheeks.

“Oh, my dearest.” Gwayne murmurs softly, gently wiping away your tears with his calloused fingers. His touch is tender, almost reverent, as he lifts your tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. “The one I love is you.”

His confession leaves you momentarily stunned, the enormity of his words sinking in with a gradual, dawning clarity. Your heart races as you begin to piece together the puzzle of his actions. The hesitation to accept a forced marriage, his repeated offers to escort you to your chambers, the lingering kisses on your hand, and the intense, unwavering glances—all of it now falls into place. He had never been indifferent; rather, he had been hiding his true feelings, perhaps out of a sense of duty or a fear of scandal.

A wave of realization washes over you, and with trembling lips, you respond, “I love you too. No one is more suited to me than you, Sir Gwayne.”

His eyes, filled with a blend of relief and profound emotion, search yours. The air between you seems to shimmer with unspoken promises and the weight of unvoiced sentiments. He pulls you close, his arms encircling you with a warmth that speaks of earnest affection and unwavering devotion. For a moment, the world outside fades into insignificance, leaving only the two of you in your shared understanding.

As he holds you, the reality of your feelings and his becomes undeniable. The burdens of misunderstanding and the weight of societal expectations dissolve, giving way to a future you both secretly yearned for. The tumultuous emotions of the past days seem to settle into a quiet resolve as you both embrace the newfound truth of your hearts.

[stellarbit]

His Scent

Hunter x female Jedi

I got a request for a Jedi solo saving Tech on a mission, growing closer, and making Hunter jealous. I tweaked it a little bit, but lemme just saw NSFW my girlies. I am not a Hunter girlie but I did have to fan my face for this one. You are strong and confident in this one.

2.0k words. NSFW

Tech leaned heavily against you, his arm draped over your shoulders as you helped him hobble along. You had been sent to Kashyyyk with Clone Force 99 to assist in dispatching a group of Trandoshan marauders. The operation concluded smoothly—until a separate incident sidelined Tech.

While attempting to disable enemy sensors solo, Tech missed several check-ins. Eventually, his voice crackled through the comm-link, "It appears I've inadvertently descended into a booby trap on the forest floor," he reported. "Apart from a definite ankle sprain, I'm intact. However, extricating myself from this pit will prove challenging given the state of my ankle. Assistance would be appreciated."

“Just hang tight, we’ll come rescue you.” Hunter’s relief was palpable through the comm. He’d barely released the comm device when you cut in.

“I’ll go.”

Hunter hesitated, shaking his head. “No, no. Crosshair and I-”

You raised a hand to cut him off. “Serg, I can force-jump down there and retrieve him faster than you could even reach the edge.” His silence was telling; he was clearly not convinced. Laughing heartily at his stern demeanor, you playfully slapped his shoulder as you breezed past. “Relax, Sergeant. I’ve got this.”

Hunter wasn’t fast enough to stop before you leapt into the dense canopy with a force-jump, diving into action despite his reservations.

But, you were right. Locating Tech and pulling him from the pit proved no challenge for your Jedi abilities. As the two of you made your way back through the Kashyyyk forest, you planned your next move aloud.

“Once we reach that clearing, I can jump us back to camp.”

Tech, wincing slightly with each step, was quick to propose an alternative. “Perhaps if you just comm Wrecker, he could—”

You interrupted Tech by yanking up on him, bettering your grip on him. “You boys need to have a little more faith.” Lurching him over one more felled tree you managed a teasing tone, “Unless it’s the heights bothering you.” The joy you got from teasing Tech would never fade.

Once at the clearing, you paused to give Tech a chance to rest his foot. He sighed heavily, the frustration evident even through his helmet. "I'm merely suggesting that Wrecker's strength could hasten our journey," he remarked, looking for a pragmatic solution.

Laughing lightly, you knelt to inspect his ankle. It was clearly swollen, but thankfully it seemed manageable with some rest. As you steadied his knee, you teased, "And miss the opportunity to hold you close?" You playfully blew a raspberry, adding, "Not likely."

Tech tilted his head, his shoulders drooping slightly under the weight of his exasperation. "You do realize, your playful antics might be entertaining, but they're also prolonging our delay."

“So you do find me entertaining.” When Tech’s only response was a deadpan expression you scoffed and stood.

Placing your hands on your hips and leaning in mock-seriousness you said, “Lighten up, Tech. We'll be back before you know it." Wit a sly grin, you added, "Besides, I think someone's little detour into a booby trap is the real time thief here."

Tech rolled his eyes, conceding with a shrug. “Fine, seeing how my mishap did indeed slow down operations.” He extended a hand towards you. “We will do it your way.”

Unable to hold back a satisfied smile you crouched down, shrugged his arm over your shoulder and put an arm under his legs to position him in your arms. Hauling him up in one fell swoop, you craned your head back to gauge his reaction.

Completely caught off guard, Tech’s hand flew up around your neck. His startled expression made you pause. It was cuter than you’d imagined. Tech quickly adjusted his eyes to a more composed, no-nonsense look.

"Okay, okay," you chuckled, slightly embarrassed but focusing on the task at hand. Tightening your hold on him, you looked up through the forest canopy. "Hold on tight." With those words, you launched upwards, navigating through the trees with ease.

Back at camp, Hunter stood impatiently at the Marauder door. He still wasn’t sure letting you go off on your own was the right thing to do.

Echo noticed Hunter’s fixation from his position inside the ship. "Hunter," he called out, rotating the pilot's chair to face him, "she can handle this."

Hunter didn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on the path you had taken. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, a silent admission of his confidence in you. However, his eyes betrayed a hint of unease. "I know she can," he murmured, more to himself than to Echo. "But I’d feel better if she didn't have to prove it so often."

He’d feel better if you never left his sight.

Landing gracefully back at the camp, Tech still in your arms. As you approached with Tech, the rest of the squad gathered, visibly relieved to see both of you safe. 

Wrecker let out a boisterous laugh, clapping Hunter on the back. "Looks like the Jedi's got everything under control, huh?"

Hunter couldn’t help but smile genuinely this time, his eyes meeting yours as you helped Tech to a more comfortable spot. "Good work," he said, his voice carrying a mix of admiration. "But next time, maybe let us help a bit more."

Tech, now safely on solid ground, nodded in agreement. "Yes, perhaps with a more... collaborative approach."

Wrecker took Tech off your hands, following Echo into the Marauder to treat Tech. 

“Alright,” Hunter announced, turning to you and Crosshair. “The three of us will do one last perimeter check. As long as everything is clear for the regs, we can head out.” Without a word, Crosshair stalked off to begin his section of the sweep.

Hunter then turned to you. “You and I will take this sector.” His tone left no room for argument as he started walking.

“As long as I’m following you,” you quipped, your gaze briefly flicking to his backside, “I’m not complaining.” Your flirtation drew a weary sigh from Hunter.

You had only ventured a few feet into the forest, beyond the sight of the ship, when Hunter abruptly turned to face you.

Hunter grabbed your arms, spinning you around to face him as he pressed you against the massive tree root. He lifted his hands, removed his helmet, and moved in to cage between his arms.

For a moment, neither of you spoke; the forest around you seemed to hold its breath.

"You're fearless," he murmured, his voice low. "I respect that. But out there, when you jumped with Tech... I realized something." He moved a knee in time with his hands as he pushed you higher onto the tree root. Using his knees, he knocked your legs apart and pressed himself in between them.

“And what’s that?” A tremor ran through your hands, the predatory look in Hunter’s eyes locked you in place. Your legs fanned out farther for him, pulling a groan from him as he pressed into you.

"I didn't like it," Hunter confessed, his eyes dipping to your lips. "I didn't like the smell of him on you." His words hung in the air, charged and raw. His admission was not just about the mission—it was about him, about you, about the undefined something simmering between you two.

A soft laugh escaped you, born of nerves and the surreal nature of the confession. “The smell of him?”

Hunter nodded, bowing his head so that the tip of his nose brushed over the curve of your ear. A shiver ran up your spine, bending your neck towards him. Hunter’s hand slid over your shoulder, up the back of your neck, and to the side of your head. With a firm grip, he pulled your head to the side and exposed your neck.

Hunter grazed his lips where his nose had been and down the length of your neck. He settled into the crook of your neck and muttered against your skin. “I can still smell him on you.”

You whined at the hum of his voice across your skin. Until then, your hands were frozen at your sides, now they freely roamed his waist. The way Hunter moved his body was a sin.

“You hate it that much?” You breathed out.

“Yes,” He ground out. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" 

You moved your head just enough that your lips were only a breath from his. Heat pooled between your legs and you smiled. “So do something about it.” 

Hunter’s nose flared and kissed you like he was going to devour you. The angle you were sitting at gave him ample room to pull at your clothes. The loose nature of your outfit made it easy for Hunter to expose the skin of your legs and pull aside your panties. 

At the same time you ripped away the gear at his waist. Between the two of you, it felt like you wouldn’t be satisfied until you were completely bare for each other. 

Hunter’s hands wedged under your ass and angled your hips as you pulled him from his pants. At your touch, Hunter sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh. You gasped into his mouth. 

“Tell me you want this.” He almost begged.

“I want this,” You quickly panted.

He thrust his hips into your touch, groaning as he said, “Tell me you want me.”

Giving him a firm stroke, you lined his head up with your entrance. That gentle contact sent a drip of your slick down his cock. 

“I want you, Hunter.” You pulled him in with your legs and sunk his cock into you. He finished the motion and buried himself into you.

His girth shocked you, but didn’t stop you from moving against his thrusts. The painful stretch he caused flooded your groin with heat. Each thrust knocked you incoherent. His thrusts were shallow and rapid, barely pulling out before ramming back into you. 

With another person, he may have worried about breaking them. You weren’t like others though. Your strength and fierceness were what intoxicated him. So Hunter trusted you could take it; that you could take him.

And you were taking him so well.

You squeezed your hand between your bodies, feeling for the sensitive bud between your legs. When you arched into him, Hunter knew you found it. Your eyes rolled while your fingers made small, precise circles. Every second, you were tightening around him and pushing him closer to his limit.

Hunter dipped his lips to the soft spot behind your ear, breath warm against your skin, and gave the spot a long, slow lick. With a smile evident in his voice, he said. “Good girl.”

His voice made your entire body go taught, a sudden burst of heat rushing from your core. You moaned out his name like it could save you and held on to him while your orgasm wrecked you. 

The sudden vice grip you had on him made Hunter hiss and he buried himself deep inside of you, pressing his face into your neck. Release hit him hard and he groaned into your skin. For a moment, he thought he’d never stop filling you.

Everytime he thought he was coming down you convulsed around him and another wave of pleasure flooded him. It wasn’t until your body started relaxing around him that Hunter was able to gain a semblance of clarity. 

You both were breathless. Panting, spent, and drunk on each other. It took a good ten seconds of catching your breath before you reached up, patted the back of his head, and said with a smile, “How do I smell now?”

Hunter chuckled into your shoulder. He inhaled deeply before he pushed himself up. On exhale he said, “Good.”

Your head fell back and you laughed, “Because I smell like you?”

He gripped your chin and tilted your head back up. With a cocky little smirk he gave a nod. “Exactly.”

The moment lingered, but duty eventually called, and you both straightened, adjusting yourselves and your gear.

Hunter replaced his helmet, saying "We should finish that perimeter check," His voice was almost normal but still carrying a trace of the heat from moments before.

You nodded, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips. "Lead the way, Sergeant."

[deiitsukki]

Marriage & Needs

Featuring: Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader

TW: (Angst to fluff, Marriage issues, Neglect, Rough sex, Fingering, Orgasm Denial, Kinda Dom!Ace, a lot of begging!)

MODERN AU!!

Note:BTW I AM BAAAAACK!! semester's coming to an end and my schedule is finally becoming finally clear but I'll only be posting one story everyday so I could still focus on my other tasks. I MISS YOU ALL WHAT THE HELL❤️❤️

Ace had always been a man who knew how to get things done. A rising star in the finance world, he’d spent the past decade turning his small investment firm into a respected powerhouse. But success didn’t come without sacrifice. Late nights, early mornings, weekends spent on conference calls—his life had become a revolving door of meetings, spreadsheets, and deadlines.

He had met You 7 years ago, back when his career hadn’t yet consumed him. Back then, they had been inseparable. You had been his muse, his balance. But as time passed, he became more engrossed in his work, and You had slowly become a part of the background. He didn’t even realize how long it had been since they’d shared a quiet evening or a simple meal together.

Tonight was no different. He sat at his desk in his study, the soft glow of his computer screen illuminating his face as he typed away on yet another presentation. Hours ticked by, but he barely noticed the passage of time. He didn’t hear Your footsteps as you entered the room, standing quietly at the door, watching him.

You had always been patient—so patient it hurt. You had watched him drift further away, keeping yout pain locked inside, hoping he would come back to you on his own. But as you stood there, you realized something: you needed him to see you, to understand what his absence had done to you. Tonight, you would find the courage to tell him.

You took a deep breath and walked closer, her voice soft but steady.

Ace barely looked up, his fingers still moving over the keyboard. “Can it wait, Y/n? I’m swamped with work.”

A pang of hurt flashed through you chest, but you kept going. “No, Ace. It can’t wait.” Your tone was firmer, edged with a frustration you’d been holding back for far too long.

Finally, he looked up, his expression showing mild annoyance. “Alright, what is it?” Ace asked, barely masking his impatience.

You took another deep breath, searching for the right words. “Ace… I feel like I’ve lost you. I understand that work is important, but lately… you’ve become so distant. I just want a few minutes with you, to feel like we’re still connected. Like I still matter to you.”

Ace let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. “Y/n, we’re not kids anymore. This is how things are. I’m doing this for us, for our future. You knew what you were signing up for when we got married.”

His words cut deep, and You felt your heart shatter. Your hands trembled as you tried to keep yourself together, your voice a mere whisper. “I didn’t sign up to feel invisible, Ace.”

Ace’s frustration bubbled over, and he snapped, “What do you want from me, Y/n? I’m doing everything I can. Maybe you’re just being overly sensitive.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Ace saw the hurt flash across your face, the tears welling in your eyes. You didn’t say another word, simply turned and walked out of the room, your silent footsteps echoing painfully in the empty house.

Alone in his study, Ace’s anger dissipated, replaced by a gnawing guilt. He thought back on his words, the way your face had fallen, the way you had looked at him as though he were a stranger. Ace realized that you were right; he had been so consumed by his ambition that he’d failed to see what it had cost his marriage. A wave of regret washed over him, and he stood up, following you to your shared bedroom.

He found you sitting at the edge of the bed, your shoulders hunched, wiping away silent tears. Seeing you like that, so vulnerable and hurt, twisted something deep inside him. Without a word, he knelt down in front of you, reaching for you hands.

“Y/n,” Ace murmured, his voice thick with remorse. “I’m so sorry. You’re right… I’ve been blind. I never meant to make you feel this way.”

You looked down at him, your tear-streaked face filled with surprise. “Ace…”

He held your hands gently, his thumb brushing over your fingers. “I’ve been a fool, Y/n. I thought I was doing all of this for us, but somewhere along the way, I forgot what was truly important. I forgot you.”

You watched him, Your eyes softening, though a hint of hurt lingered. “You don’t know how much that means to me,” you whispered.

He stood slowly, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you close. He looked at you with an intensity you hadn’t seen in a long time, a promise to make up for every moment he’d missed. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing over yours, gentle but filled with emotion. You responded, feeling a spark ignite that had been dormant for so long. His hands roamed up your back, pulling you closer, his touch conveying every word he couldn’t say.

They moved slowly, savoring each touch, each kiss, as if they were rediscovering each other. He poured all his love, his apologies, into every caress, whispering soft words of regret and love against your skin. You felt cherished, wanted in a way that you’d almost forgotten.

He laid you down on the bed, his hands exploring you with a tenderness that brought fresh tears to your eyes, though this time they were tears of joy. They connected in a way that went beyond the physical, rekindling a flame that had never truly died. Every movement, every kiss, was a promise, a silent vow to never take you for granted again.

He stares at you with those Dark Intense eyes of his, filled with softness, His eyes, Those eyes that made you fell inlove with him. He slowly removed your night gown

“My dear wife..” he whispers, with a soothing tone

“You're so...” he said while he unclasps your bra

“so...” he continues trowing your bra to the floor

“so...” he said his hands going down to take off the only garment that was left in your perfect body

“so beautiful.” Ace said complimenting you as he took off your panties with such ease

He presses a thumb in your already wet cunt making you gasp from the sudden contact, Ace continued toying with your clit while showering you with compliment

“Oh my god, Ace please...” you moaned pleadingly “Please what love?” he asked softly “C'mon speak up” he said waiting for you to speak “More please.” You pleaded voice laced with wanting more

Well he couldn't blame you since it's been so long since both of you shared a intimate moment together, he understands why you were so needy for him tonight, by the way you pleads makes his already growing erection painfully hard. God, He missed this, he was more than dumb for neglecting you, and he was thankful you decided to talk to him this night. He wants you too, He needed you too, He means it. and He wanted to show you how much he needed you tonight.

Hearing your plea he removed his thumb in your clit, He places one of his hands in your lower belly and without a warning he suddenly inserted two of his fingers inside your pussy making you gasp in pleasure, you grasp the bedsheet, toes curling as you moaned, His finger pumping in and out of your entrance

“F-fuck ace” you moaned “Faster please” you pleaded again as you swallowed a moan, You feel your orgasm coming, he did too, so instead of listening to you, he slowed his hands from fingering you.

You looked at him almost teary eyed because of the orgasm denial “Why? Ace I said faster” you asked sounding a little upset “Nothing.” He said “I just want to hear you beg” he continued smiling while staring at your eyes

“You're such a meanie ace, please let me cum” you asked staring back at him with a small pout “Please Ace~” you moaned his name, and oh my fucking god he swear he felt himself cumming from the way you moaned his name, oh well he better make you beg later he thought smirking to himself.

“Please Ace, Plea-” your begging was cut off when he suddenly picked up his pace, his fingers fucking you into oblivion, and you moaned, clawing his hands that he was using to finger you “I'm gonna cum ace oh~” you said voice shaking with pleasure “Cum on my fingers, love” as soon as those words left his mouth, your orgasm hit you, your legs shaking as you moaned

He pulled out his fingers from your pussy, you closed your eyes as you gasps for air “That was great.” you puffed tiredly thinking you guys were done, unbeknownst to you, you guys are just getting started.

he stands up walking over to the near couch slowly unbuttoning his polo shirt “Oh yeah?” he asked, and you hummed eyes still closed “well, we're just getting started.” he said, stripping off his own clothes “What?” you asked, opening your eyes to look at him, he was already naked

“Well I want to show how special you are, and how much I missed you.” he said slowly walking towards you, as he reached the bed, he climbed onto the bed, and kneeling infront of you, he took both of your legs pulling you towards him “And you think you're the only who needs to cum huh.” he said chuckling as he lines his hard dick in your still throbbing pussy

without any warning he pushed his cock inside of you making both of you moaned “Fuck Y/n, you're so fucking warm” Ace moaned as he moves himself inside of you, your legs thrown over his broad shoulder, you moaned mindlessly, brain in hazy as you were still recoving from the orgasm you had minutes ago and yet you felt yourself cumming again not on his finger, but on his cock.

“Oh Ace~” you moaned gripping the pillows “please fuck me more” you pleaded eyes swelling with tears because of the pleasure “Please ace” you begged looking up at him with glossy hooded eyes, the way you looked at him made him go feral because why the fuck do you look so fucking hot, the eyes, the small drool on your mouth, the way you begged, and the way you moaned his name.

He couldn't control himself as he moved his hands from your legs to your waist, “Fuck princess don't make me lose my mind” he moaned as he gripped your waist tightly, you are sure by the way he's holding you, you're gonna have a bruise on your waist when you wake up tomorrow.

“Oh fuck darling ~” you moaned as you grope your tits, playing with it. Hearing those words escape your mouth ace suddenly stops slowly pulling out but leaving just the tip inside of you, “What did you say?” he asked bewilderly “What?” you asked back as you move trying to put his whole cock inside of you again but his hands on your waist tightes more making you winced, you looked up at him, eyes hooded with lust “Say it again” he demanded voice deep, you made a noise of complaint but he held you down “Come on love, say it again, so we can continue this” he said to you kissing your neck

“Come on say it” he cooes at you leaving wet kisses in your jaw, “Darling” you purred at his ears wrapping your hands on his neck, Once he heard you call him that and the way you said it made him go mad, the way you riled him up makes him downbad for you, oh the woman you are he thought

“Hell yeah.” he said as suddenly slammed his cock back into your pussy and this made you moaned loudly “You make me so crazy Y/n” he groaned, planting a hickey into your collarbone, “So fucking crazy” he said as he listens to your moanes, He picked up his pace, grunting as he felt your nails digging onto his broad shoulder

“Gonna Cum Gonna cum..” you chanted feeling yourself reaching the climax “Fuck darling I'm gonna cum.” you screamed lust and greed laced in your voice

“Gonna cum too love” he said, hugging you burrying his cock deep in your walls that were sqeezing his big dick “Let's cum together yeah?” he groans delivering his final hard thrust in your pussy

Your moanes were laced with pleassure as you came in his cock that is burried deep inside your pussy. He groans as he felt his cock shoot his load inside of you, he can feel how warm your inside is, He slowly thrust his cock into your pussy making sure that he fills you up nice and full before pulling his dick out

You were both panthing crazy as the both of you lay wrapped in each other’s arms, a comfortable silence between you . Ace held you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his heart swelling with a newfound gratitude.

“I love you, Y/n,” he murmured softly. “And I promise I’ll never let work come between us again.”

You looked up at him, Your fingers tracing soft patterns on his chest. “All I ever wanted was for you to see me, to remember that I’m here, with you.”

He smiled, his hand running gently through her hair. “I see you, Y/n. I always will.”

And as they drifted off to sleep, tangled together under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, they both knew that they had found their way back to each other. Their love, though tested, had emerged stronger, and they would face whatever came next hand in hand, together.

[jetii]

Hello! I was wondering if I could 36 NSFW with Tech x fem!reader? Maybe where he said that nobody really gave him a challenge at the game, and readers ego is too high to back down from that offer even though she loses horribly. Established relationship perhaps? Also, I love your writing it’s amazing! You deserve all the love and followers

Hiii I'm so happy you requested this!!! I've been addicted to playing Kessel Sabacc in SW Outlaws for the past few weeks, and I was just waiting for the opportunity to work my knowledge into a fic. Literally wrote this as soon as I saw it in my inbox.

I consider this reader the same as the one from On Impulse if anyone cares!

Strategy

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 5,069

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, smut, established relationship, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, light dom Tech, rough (but affectionate) sex

Prompt: 36. “I don’t know why you’re complaining, you’re the one that wanted to play strip Sabacc.”

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist | Main Masterlist

"Pure sabacc," you announce, throwing down your cards and leaning back in your chair. A relieved grin spreads across your face at Tech's expression. His mouth is a thin line and his eyes are squinted, but there's an exasperated glint in them.

"Yes, I know," he grumbles, dropping his own cards on the table. Tech isn't a sore loser, but he is a competitive one. And the fact that this is the second hand you've won in a row is definitely irking him.

You snatch up his discarded cards and start to shuffle. "What was that about me never winning a round?"

"It is an anomaly," Tech states emotionlessly.

"And you've done the calculations to prove it, haven't you?"

He doesn't answer.

"Well, maybe I'm just lucky tonight." You cross your arms, reveling in his annoyance. "You know, I was beginning to think you were cheating with all the times you've been winning."

Tech rolls his eyes, but you can tell he's fighting off a smirk.

"I wouldn't cheat. Besides, I don't need to. My superior memory allows me to calculate the chances of each outcome with ease, making me naturally skilled at the game. Whereas you," he continues, leaning across the table and resting his elbows on it, "must rely on luck, because your memory is abysmal. It's no surprise you've been losing so often."

"Hey!" you protest, tossing a card at him. It flutters through the air, but he catches it before it hits his goggles.

Tech leans forward, the card trapped between his index and middle finger. "I am merely pointing out the facts, darling."

You snatch the card from him and return it to the deck, refusing to meet his smug gaze. He's trying to distract you, and he knows it's working.

"You can't always rely on the facts," you say, dealing the cards out once again.

"I don't. I also use strategy. Which you should try, seeing as it would certainly help you win."

"Strategy?"

"Yes, like—"

"Like how you're trying to distract me by insulting my memory?"

Tech huffs a breathy laugh and tilts his chin down. "Is it working?"

"Absolutely not." You glance down at your cards, trying your best not to smirk at your hand. Another sylop. The deck is stacked in your favor this round, and you have a perfect chance of beating Tech.

"What do you say we make this more interesting?" you propose, watching Tech's head tilt in curiosity.

He places a chip down and draws a card before his eyes dart back to yours. "I'm listening."

"Strip sabacc."

Tech's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and he almost drops the cards he's holding. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me," you tease, setting your cards down. "Whoever loses a round has to remove an item of clothing. If you lose all your clothes before I do, I win. If I lose mine first, you win. Deal?"

He takes a moment to contemplate the suggestion, a faint blush coloring his cheeks, and his eyes narrow, calculating the possibilities. When his lips curve into a smirk, you know he's made up his mind.

"Deal," he agrees, nodding once and adjusting his goggles. He lays down his cards face up—pair of ones. You frown at your own hand and drop them onto the table.

"Oh, come on! Again?"

Tech chuckles, leaning back in his seat. "I believe you're the one who suggested this game. Now, please, take off an item of clothing."

The cockiness in his tone sends a shiver down your spine, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Tech may be a terrible flirt, but his confidence in himself is incredibly sexy.

You slip your boots off and kick them under the table, then lean back in your chair and cross your arms. Tech's eyes are locked on you, a devious smile playing at his lips.

"Now who's distracted?" you taunt, winking at him.

"Hardly," he answers. But you can see the flush on his face and the way his chest is rising and falling just a little bit faster than usual. He's excited, and he's trying to hide it.

“You know, you’re wearing a lot more clothes than I am," you argue, leaning forward on the table and batting your eyelashes innocently. “You should take off an item, too, for fairness' sake."

"Fine." He pulls his boots off and drops them onto the floor. "Happy now?"

"Very."

Tech picks up the deck and shuffles the cards, the corners of his lips turning up.

"This was your plan, wasn't it?" he asks.

"My plan was to finally win a game of sabacc against you. And maybe see you with less clothes on, but that's an added bonus."

Tech chuckles and slides the cards toward you, his eyes burning into yours. "You are very devious. Now, deal the cards, darling."

You quickly learn that the stakes have made the game a lot more fun. Your heart races as the tension between the two of you rises, each of you sneaking glances at the other while pretending not to. And it doesn't take long for Tech to get the upper hand, much to your dismay.

"I told you," he teases, smirking at you over his cards, "my superior memory allows me to calculate the probability—"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't need to brag," you interrupt, rolling your eyes. You draw another card, cursing when it doesn't help you in the slightest.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining, you’re the one that wanted to play strip Sabacc," he says. You look up at Tech to see he's staring at his own cards, but the slight smile playing on his lips tells you he's aware of your annoyance.

You can't argue with that. You're the one that proposed the idea, and you're the one that can’t seem to stop losing, so now you're the one sitting on the ship with no shoes, socks, or a shirt, leaving only your pants and undergarments. Meanwhile, Tech has only removed his gloves and belt.

He places his cards face-up on the table, revealing another pure sabacc.

"Dammit," you sigh, throwing your own cards onto the table. "Again."

"Strip," Tech commands, and there's a huskiness to his voice that wasn't there before. His eyes are dark and intense as they follow your every move, and his mouth is curved in a devilish smile.

"Are you enjoying this?" you ask, unbuttoning your pants and standing from the chair.

"Immensely," he admits, his eyes not straying from you.

Heat spreads throughout your body at the intensity of his gaze. He watches with bated breath as you push the fabric down your legs, revealing the soft skin of your thighs, and he licks his lips subconsciously. The pants pool around your feet, and you kick them under the table before returning to your seat.

"Now who's the distracted one?"

"Not distracted," Tech replies, his eyes meeting yours. "Appreciating."

His words are heavy and sultry, and you can't stop the flush that colors your cheeks.

"You can appreciate me better if you lose another round," you tell him, shuffling the cards once again.

Tech's eyes narrow. "I think I'd prefer to watch you lose a few more."

The cockiness in his voice goes straight to your core, and a heat pools in your abdomen. Tech doesn't break eye contact, his stare intense and challenging, and a thrill shoots through you at the thought of what he could be thinking.

"I guess we'll see," you tell him, smirking.

You deal the cards, and Tech immediately throws a chip down, drawing his next card. A satisfied smile curves his lips. He's not even trying to hide his glee at your frustration, and it's infuriating.

You throw a chip onto your pile, drawing a card and praying that the Force will be on your side this round. You peek at the numbers and symbols on the card, and the disappointment is instant. It's the worst possible combination—a six and one. And you're out of chips.

When Tech sets his cards down, he does so slowly, drawing out the moment and relishing in your scowl.

You sigh, dropping your useless cards, and Tech's eyes brighten at the sight.

"Well, would you look at that?" he says, his voice filled with fake innocence. "I believe that's five in a row for me."

"No shit, really?" you mutter, rolling your eyes. "I had no idea."

He leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, his hands folded together and his chin resting on top. "Strip."

It's the way he says it, like a command. His voice is low and gravelly, and you feel yourself getting wetter at the tone. He's so sure of himself, so cocky, and it's driving you wild.

"Do I have to?" you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

Tech's eyes narrow in on you. "Yes."

You stand and unclasp your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders and slipping it off your arms. The cold air makes your nipples harden instantly, and his eyes widen when he sees them. He stares for a moment, taking in the view, and then his tongue darts out and licks his lips.

"I must admit, I'm finding this game more enjoyable than I originally thought," he says, his voice thick.

"Only because you're winning."

He hums in agreement and deals the next hand, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Throughout the round, Tech's eyes keep flicking back and forth between the cards and your chest, and you have to bite back a smile. He's trying so hard to concentrate, and his obvious struggle is adorable.

Tech's confidence fades as the round progresses, and by the time he sets his cards down, he isn't wearing his usual cocky smile. His mouth is pressed into a thin line and his eyebrows are knitted together when he shows you his hand.

"What's wrong, Tech?" you tease, leaning back in your seat. "Disappointed that you lost?"

"Of course not," he scoffs. "I've already calculated the possibilities and I know how this will end. I have no doubt that I will win."

"Then why are you pouting?"

"I am not pouting."

"Uh-huh. Well, whatever the reason, it's time for you to remove some clothes."

Tech sighs and slips off his goggles. His warm eyes meet yours, and you notice that they're slightly glazed over.

"There," he grumbles, pushing the goggles across the table toward you. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," you reply, a wide smile on your face.

Your eyes rake over him, taking in his appearance. It’s rare that you get to see him this way, and you savor the moment. Tech has always been handsome, but the way he looks right now, with his hair mussed and a blush coloring his cheeks, is absolutely enticing.

You pick up the deck and shuffle it, and the sound of the cards sliding together is the only noise in the room. Tech's eyes are fixed on your bare chest, and his throat bobs when he swallows.

"Like what you see?" you ask, raising a brow.

"Always."

Your cheeks flush, and you deal the cards. The anticipation is killing you, and the smugness that Tech was showing before is long gone. He seems eager to get the game over with, and the impatience in his demeanor is refreshing.

His eyes flick back and forth between the cards and the pile, and his face gives nothing away. You're desperate to know what his hand is, and it's taking every ounce of willpower not to peek.

He reaches across the table and throws a chip down, his brow furrowing. It's such a subtle change in his expression, and most people would miss it. But you know Tech well enough to understand his emotions, and right now he's frustrated.

Your heartbeat quickens as you draw a card. Another three to match the one already in your hand. Not great, but it's enough to win if Tech doesn't have a better sabacc.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask him, watching as his eyes move from his cards to yours and back again.

"Strategy," he mutters.

"What kind of strategy?"

"The type of strategy that will guarantee my victory,” he says. His eyes are determined and his jaw is clenched. He glances up from his cards to meet your gaze, and the fire in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

"Show me your cards," he demands.

You do as he asks, laying the two twos face-up on the table. The look he gives you is nothing short of prideful, and your heart drops.

"You've got to be kidding me," you groan.

Tech reveals his own cards—a sylop and a one. You let out an exasperated huff, and he chuckles.

"Well," he starts, placing his cards on the table and leaning back in his chair. His gaze travels over your body, and his smirk widens. "Go on."

Your cheeks heat up under his scrutinizing stare, and a part of you wants to rebel and refuse to comply. But Tech looks so damn good right now, his eyes filled with mischief, and the excitement coursing through you is too much.

"You're having too much fun," you say, your voice low.

"I'd have more fun if you'd hurry up and finish this little game of ours," Tech retorts.

 You're about to give him a smart retort, but then you notice the way he shifts in his seat. It's subtle, and you doubt he even realizes it, but it's there. The tightening of his thighs, the slight twitch of his hands. He's just as turned on as you are.

And you decide to play into it.

"I'm in no rush." You stand, slowly, and let your hands travel down the expanse of your chest, cupping your breasts and running your thumbs over your nipples.

Tech's breath catches, and his eyes are dark as they watch your every move. You can see his fingers twitching, aching to touch you, but he's refraining. You run a hand down your stomach, over the hem of your panties, and he licks his lips again.

Then, without warning, you turn away from him, exposing your backside. Tech makes a sound of protest, but his objection quickly dies down when he sees you hook your thumbs into the waistband and slide your underwear down. You bend forward to push them down your legs, and you can hear the sharp intake of breath from Tech.

The moment you turn around, a mischievous glint in your eye, you're met with a new expression on Tech's face.

He looks hungry.

His pupils are blown wide and his lips are parted, and you can tell it's taking all his strength not to jump across the table and take you right then and there.

"Well?" you tease, raising an eyebrow at him. "What are you waiting for?"

He doesn't waste a second. With one swift motion, he tosses the cards aside, his eyes never leaving yours, and stands. Then, he's on the other side of the table and grabbing your waist, pulling you towards him until your chest is pressed against his.

"I win," he announces, his hands roaming over your body.

"Then take your prize."

He pulls you into a searing kiss, his lips pressing insistently against yours. His hands travel the expanse of your skin, squeezing and caressing. One settles at the base of your neck while the other moves lower, down the curve of your back and to your ass. He grabs it, hard, and pulls your hips towards his, pressing his already-hard erection into you. You moan into his mouth, and he swallows it up, his tongue delving deeper and dancing with yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer and pressing your bare chest against him. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, and his arousal is evident as he rocks his hips into yours, his hand squeezing and kneading your flesh.

When the two of you break away for air, his mouth moves lower, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking the sensitive skin at your pulse point. You tilt your head back, allowing him more access, and he takes full advantage. His tongue laves over the area, teeth nipping at the skin, and a breathy moan escapes your lips.

Tech's lips travel lower, across your collarbone and down your chest, stopping at the valley between your breasts. His breath fans over your skin, and his tongue darts out, licking a stripe along the underside of one breast. His fingers move up, brushing over the bud of your nipple, and you let out a whimper at the sensation.

He looks up at you, a satisfied smile playing at his lips, before bending and taking the other nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls around it, his lips sucking the sensitive flesh, and his hand pinches the other one. The feeling sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and your hands find their way into his hair, tangling themselves in the strands.

You gasp as his teeth gently graze over the hardened peak, and your knees nearly buckle beneath you. His other hand comes up and holds your hip, steadying you, and his mouth moves to the other side.

"Tech..." you breathe, your head falling back and your eyes fluttering shut. He's barely touched you, and already, you're a panting mess.

Tech's lips travel further down, past your navel and to your thighs. He drops to his knees in front of you, his hands trailing along the curves of your hips, and his lips press kisses into your skin.

"I've been wanting to taste you all day," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"You should've told me earlier," you breathe, looking down at him through hooded eyes. "We could've skipped the sabacc." 

"This was far more entertaining." He presses a kiss to your mound, and you shudder. His eyes are dark with lust, and the sight of him on his knees before you makes your core clench with anticipation.

Tech kisses your thigh, his tongue darting out to taste the skin. Your hands tighten in his hair, tugging and guiding him to where you need him most. He chuckles, and the warm breath fans over your sensitive flesh. 

His fingers dance across your skin, teasing the crease of your thighs, before one presses against your heat. A moan escapes your lips, and he presses harder, dragging his finger through your folds.

"You're already so wet," he murmurs, his eyes watching the way his finger moves. "Were you thinking about this while we were playing? About what would happen if you lost?"

"Yes," you answer truthfully, and the admission has him groaning.

He rubs circles into your clit, his touch sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body. Your legs begin to shake, and you place a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. He glances up at you, the corner of his mouth turning up in a devilish smirk, and he presses a finger against your entrance. You whimper at the contact, and Tech lets out a quiet moan, the sight of you falling apart before him clearly affecting him.

"Tech, please," you beg, rocking your hips into his hand.

"Patience, darling," he coos.

He pushes the digit into you, slowly, letting you adjust to the stretch, and then curls it upwards. You gasp, your hand gripping his shoulder tighter, and he begins to pump his finger in and out of you. His arm nudges your thigh, spreading your legs wider, and he leans in and presses his mouth to your clit. He licks a broad stripe up the sensitive bundle of nerves, his tongue swirling around it, and you cry out in pleasure.

His free hand grips your thigh, holding you steady, while the other continues its slow movements, pushing in and out of you. You feel the tension coiling inside of you, and you know it won't take long for him to push you over the edge. His tongue is skilled and insistent, and he knows you better than anyone.

Tech's eyes are locked on yours, watching every reaction, and you can see the pure delight written on his face. He loves knowing he's the one doing this to you, making you fall apart.

"Tech... I'm..." You can't finish the sentence. The tension is building inside you, threatening to snap at any moment, and your breathing is labored. Tech adds a second finger, pumping faster and curling them against the spongy spot within you. You whimper, your grip on his shoulder tightening, and he knows you're close.

"Come for me," he says, his words vibrating against your sensitive flesh. His palm slaps against your clit, his fingers curling deeper, and the coil inside you snaps.

"Fuck!" you gasp, your legs shaking as the orgasm crashes through you. Tech's arm wraps around your thigh, keeping you upright as your knees buckle. He continues pumping his fingers, drawing out the pleasure, his tongue flicking and swirling around your clit.

When the sensations become too much, you place a hand on his forehead and push him away, your body going slack. Tech pulls his fingers from you and places a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before standing, his eyes searching yours.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice husky.

"Mhmm," you hum, a blissful smile tugging at your lips.

Tech's hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you into a bruising kiss. He takes a step forward, guiding you backwards, and the backs of your legs hit the bunk.

"Tech, please," you beg, breaking the kiss and staring into his eyes. They're black with desire, and he's already reaching down, fumbling with the zipper of his pants.

He pushes them down his legs, kicking them away, and his cock springs free, already leaking. Your hand reaches for him, stroking him from base to tip, and he groans, his hips bucking into your touch.

You continue the slow movements, dragging your hand along his length and rubbing your thumb over the tip. Tech's breathing is heavy, and his head falls to your shoulder, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"Stop," he mutters, grabbing your wrist and halting the movement. "I want to last more than five seconds."

You chuckle and press a kiss to his jaw. "Well, let's go, then."

His eyes meet yours, and he nods. Then, in a swift motion, he spins you around and pushes you forward, bending you over the side of the bed.

He presses his body against yours, his cock grinding against your ass, and a soft moan escapes your lips. He's close, his breathing hot and heavy against your neck, and his hands are gripping your hips, pulling you towards him.

You feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance, and a shiver runs down your spine. You lean forward, resting your arms on the mattress and tilting your ass higher, and Tech lets out a deep moan at the sight.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers as one hand slides along the curve of your back.

“Hurry up," you urge, wiggling your hips against him.

His hand moves down your hip, across your ass, taking a moment to squeeze the flesh, and lower to the back of your thigh. His fingers dance along the skin, sending shivers down your spine, before coming to a stop at the back of your knee. He lifts it, propping it on the edge of the bunk, spreading your legs wider, and then his cock is lining up with your entrance.

He pushes in, slowly, letting you adjust to the stretch. You whimper as he fills you, and his hand comes up, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back.

Tech pauses when he's fully sheathed inside you, his hips flush with yours, and his hand comes around to rest on your lower stomach. The light pressure on the spot is just enough to have you squirming, and you push back into him, silently begging for more.

"Please, Tech," you whimper, and he huffs a laugh.

"Begging already?" he teases, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear. "I haven't even started yet."

He pulls out of you, and the drag of his cock has you whining, already missing the sensation. He pushes back in, slow and deep, and you let out a shaky breath.

"Fuck, Tech," you pant, and he groans, his nose brushing against the nape of your neck.

His pace is slow and methodical, and you can't help but admire the restraint he's showing. Usually, he's a mess by this point, but now, his fingers are digging into your hips, holding you steady, and his breathing is slow and controlled.

You turn your head, pressing your cheek against the sheets, and glance up at him. His eyes are shut tight, and his brow is furrowed in concentration. You're not sure what's gotten into him, but he seems determined not to lose control.

"Harder, Tech," you urge, pushing your hips back to meet his. He grunts and snaps his hips, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. You let out a moan, and Tech's pace quickens, his thrusts growing more forceful.

Your fingers dig into the sheets, trying to find purchase as he pounds into you. It's intoxicating, the feeling of his cock filling you, stretching you. And the sounds coming from his lips—the soft grunts and moans—are driving you wild. He's always quiet during sex, but the sounds he's making now are anything but.

Tech's grip on your hip tightens, and his hand on your stomach presses harder, holding you in place as his hips move faster. His thrusts are sharp and deep, and he hits that sweet spot inside you, sending tingling waves of pleasure through your body.

"Yes," you cry out, and you push back against him, meeting each thrust. "More, Tech."

"I don't want to hurt you," he says, his voice strained.

"You won't."

He lets out a strangled moan and slams his hips into yours, the movement nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. He continues his relentless pace, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hip, and your head falls forward, resting against the sheets.

Your legs are shaking, and the tension inside you is threatening to snap at any moment. You can feel the fire burning in your abdomen, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, and the way Tech is panting against your neck isn't helping.

"That's it," he growls, his voice low and husky. "You're close, aren't you?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"I can feel you tightening around me." He groans, his pace never faltering. "You're going to come for me."

It's a demand, not a question. And you have no intention of disobeying him.

Tech's hand slides from your hip to your ass, squeezing the plump flesh. The possessiveness of the gesture has you keening, and you arch your back, presenting yourself to him. He growls at the sight, his hips slamming into yours.

"Stars, you're so fucking beautiful," he pants, his hand moving to your thigh and hiking your leg higher. The new angle allows him to slide deeper inside you, and you can feel the pressure building within you, the tears beginning to prick at your eyes.

"Tech, please," you beg, pushing your hips back to meet his.

"What do you need, darling?" he asks, his voice strained. "Tell me."

"Make me come, please," you whine, and his hips jerk forward.

His hand is quick, sliding between your legs and finding your clit. He presses two fingers against the swollen bud, rubbing slow circles, and the tension snaps. Your body goes rigid, and your vision blurs as the orgasm rips through you. You cry out, Tech's name falling from your lips, and your knees buckle, the only thing keeping you upright is his firm grip on your hips.

You bury your face in the sheets, muffling the sound of your moans, and Tech keeps pumping into you, his thrusts rocking you forward and sending your orgasm even higher.

He fucks you through the high, his pace never faltering, each thrust punching another gasp from you. Your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white and jaw clenched, and the pleasure is so intense that tears begin to roll down your cheeks. His cock twitches inside you, and you clench around him, desperate to push him over the edge.

"Fuck," he hisses, his thrusts becoming sloppy. He's babbling now, his voice hoarse and broken, and you can tell he's close. "You're perfect, darling. You're— fuck, I love you, I love you, I love—"

His words are cut off by a deep groan, and his hips stutter. He slams into you one final time before he spills into you, hot and thick, and the feeling is enough to make you see stars. His hands are gripping your waist, bruising the flesh, and he pulls you into his lap as he turns and collapses onto the bed.

You both sit there, panting, his chest pressed against your back. His forehead is resting against your shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. The two of you are covered in a sheen of sweat, and his hands are roaming your body, tracing gentle patterns across your skin.

"That was..." Tech trails off, unable to form the words.

"Yeah," you agree, leaning back against him. You take in a shaky breath and sigh. "I love you too, by the way."

"I know." He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his lips pressing a gentle kiss against the sensitive skin. "I can't believe you suggested strip sabacc."

"And I can't believe you agreed."

"Well, I wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to see you naked," he chuckles, his fingers tracing lazy circles across your abdomen.

You laugh, and the sound is bright and clear. You shift in his lap, turning around and straddling his hips. His eyes are soft as he stares up at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Maybe we should play it more often then," you joke, leaning down and capturing his lips in a tender kiss.

"We will, if this is how you plan to reward me every time I win."

"Deal."

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish

[juniperdugong]

Ridiculous - Woozi

fluff - wc, 1017 idol!woozi x gn!reader NOT PROOFREAD

"Jihoon-a~" you call out in a sickeningly sweet voice as you drape yourself unceremoniously across the white couch in the studio.

Woozi scoffs at the nickname and tone before turning around in his chair to look at you, hands stilling but remaining on the keyboard. "Yes?"

"I just have a question...BUT I need you to entertain it! Don't just tell me I'm being ridiculous or something."

"Depends on what-"

"Jihoon."

"Okay okay, fine" he drags out the word in exasperation but his smile tells you a different story. His ears are all yours and a smile spreads across his face, ready to "entertain" whatever you want.

His eyes follow you as you traipse slowly around the room, avoiding his tracking gaze. "Hoon, why don't you ever write any songs about me?", you fiddle with the hem of your shirt not daring to look up at him as you finish your query.

His face scrunches up in bewilderment that YOU would even "entertain" this thought. You look up due to the initial silence and can't help but giggle. Woozi gets up and goes through what might've been the 5 stages of grief, getting ready to say something in retaliation with his hands raised in the air but biting his tongue. If Bumzu walked in right now it might've looked like an argument honestly.

Finally, after minutes of Jihoon daring to let something spill, he calms himself with a deep breath and returns to his computer chair resting his hands behind his head. He's trying his best to keep composure but he can't help but scoff at the mere thought of what you just said, a smirk evident on his face.

"What do you mean y/n?" he postures a very fake smile on himself.

"Stop it~" you whine as you curl up on the couch, looking towards him with puppy-dog eyes.

"No, I'm genuinely asking, what do you mean?" his attitude quickly changes from baffled to curious.

"I know what you're thinking Jihoon! You think it's-"

"-Ridiculous? Well, yes!"

"I told you to entertain me in my thought!"

"And I am, I just want to know what you mean, babe." he's up again and making his way towards you. Arms wrapping around you in your balled-up state.

You look at him with these eyes that just make him completely melt. "You've just never dedicated a song to me...not that you have to! Especially, not publicly. But I don't know...it was just a passing question I had."

Grabbing you by the shoulders to look at him, he takes a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully.

"Y/n, there is no other way to say this...but all my songs are for you." you think he's mocking you, head immediately slumping and eyes rolling before he's shaking you back to reality; Forcing you to look at him again.

"I mean it! And now I might sound ridiculous in saying this but every single song that even mentions love has been for you. And yeah, maybe I didn't know you when initially writing all those songs but that doesn't matter. I've loved you since before I even knew you and my songs are a testament to that." the forwardness comes as a surprise and you're about to tell him that he doesn't need to continue but he goes on, his voice full of a confidence you can't stop.

"Seriously, it's all for you. It always has been. The moment I met you it was decided, y/n. And I know that I don't express it often but it's true and I need you to know that you mean as much to me as all the songs I've written." he's starting to get aggravated over the subject now, getting up and making large gestures with his arms.

"If you ever have any doubts, ESPECIALLY OVER SONGS, tell me! Because, oh-ho-boy, I would write like a million to show you just-"

"Jihoon..."

"-how much you mean to me. Love literally overflows from me because of you-"

"Ji."

"-you could run me over with a car and I would still have several songs to write about how you looked in the driver's seat-"

"Jihoon!" it's your turn to look at him with bewilderment. He stares at you, ready to continue his rant and rather upset that you wouldn't let him continue. "I think I get it hoon-a." a coy smile comes from you from all the compliments (?). He's shaking his head as his arms open up to embrace you once again.

"Please, y/n, never ever question my dedication to you. Makes me feel like a bad boyfriend or something..." you can feel the pout in his tone and although he doesn't often initiate kisses he leaves a chaste peck on the corner of your lips.

"Oh no Jihoon, I never thought you were a bad boyfriend!" You cup his face in your palms. "It was just a question-"

"I know but still!" you just have to chuckle at the fact that he's still a bit upset over it. "It never even crossed my mind that you would feel some type of way over that stuff." he's burying himself in your neck now; Instinctually you're patting his head.

"Hey, it's okay, hoon! You've explained to me, in all but too much detail, how it's all for me~" you tease.

His expression drops to deadpan within a second and he's retreating back to his computer. You catch him by the sleeve and pull him back into another hug while laughing loudly.

He sighs into you, allowing whatever took over him to wash off as your laughter reminds him that this isn't an argument.

"Y'know I can dedicate-"

"It's okay baby, it's fine." you reassure him.

Weeks go by and every now and again, whenever you're in the studio, Woozi lets you listen to some of the stuff he's working on. You don't notice it but he makes an effort to tell you that he thought of you while making some of them. His little acts of devotion and dedication to you.

{If you're interested in being on the Taglist for my Seventeen works please let me know!! Requests are open!}

{A/N: A little something to tide over until Saturday and I thought it was well past time to write something about my ult-bias. It was tougher than I expected ngl. Been a carat for, what, like 8 years now and I've stuck by Uji's side the entire ride. Crazy to see the growth tbh. He's so expressive and I don't think my man gets the credit he deserves when it comes to being a talkative member. Bro's always up in the mix. Anyway, please like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed!! It encourages me so much tbh. Love ya!}

[baeshijima]

— of lattes and dozing generals

in which you're just a cafe employee, and he is the luofu's revered general — the one who can never seem to stray too far from you, no matter how much time passes.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 10.4k wc, fluff, some angst, hurt/comfort, coffee shop!au(-but-not-really-but-yeah-but-also-not), set slightly before current timeline, (old) friends to lovers, (attempts at) humour, pining pining bc they are old..., mentions of death (reader killed a mara-struck for the first time), hints of blade x reader if you squint

A/N : after a month the fic is done... i am so unwell for this man good lord ಥ_ಥ

General Jing Yuan is a cafe addict. That much is common knowledge among the citizens of the Luofu. Spanning from those who have been around for as long as he — and even older — to children and visitors alike, there’s not one person who hasn’t heard of this rumour.

When asked by a few brave (or nosy, depending on how you look at it) souls, the corners of his lips merely quirk up in a display of fond affection as he vocalises with equal sentiment, “They have my favourite there. How can I possibly resist the temptation?”

…Yeah. Whatever that meant.

Unsurprisingly, word spreads fast. News of the Cloud Knight’s general making regular trips to a meagre cafe? Just what in the world did they have to cause the great, beloved General Jing Yuan to return time and time again?

In the end, no one could actually figure out what his favourite item on the menu was. Every time he went in, it would always result in him leaving with something new! The only consistent occurrence, however, was the same employee taking his order with an expression akin to that of exasperation.

Meanwhile, to the regulars who have grown used to his profound presence within the humble cafe, they know better. This so-called ‘favourite menu item’ rumour that’s been going around? Preposterous! Having bore witness to the general breeze through the entrance in a bee-line to wherever it is you may be currently stationed (typically behind the counter) on many occasions, they’re confident the last thing in Jing Yuan’s mind when visiting is the menu.

After all, for what reason would he have to visit other than to converse with and see his favourite employee?

As a Xianzhou Native, you’ve experienced many oddities and menial routines throughout your extensive life. From being a medic-slash-supporter during countless wars and purges to your current job in a humble cafe, your options are beginning to run thin. After all, life is about exploring the new and revisiting the old (in your philosophy, at least), and there’s plenty of time to do so after having lived as long as you have.

Granted, outside of your role in purging the Denizens of Abundance, it’s safe to say your current occupation in the cafe has been your longest one yet! Well, you suppose the citizens of the Luofu — and, by extension, the Xianzhou Alliance — were never really ones for drastic change. At least the outworlders who come to visit bring some semblance of entertainment in your mundane life.

Yes. Your simple, mundane life you have come to appreciate.

“I see you’re busy as ever,” comments a baritone voice — languid in intonation yet you’re no stranger to the power which belies it. Against your better judgement, your eyes lift from the marbled counter to meet the smiling face of the bane of your existence, and the general whom the masses respect and fawn over. “Mind taking another customer?”

Ah. Right. This guy.

Out of everything that has been thrown at you, you’re almost certain this man takes the cake for the strangest experience in your life. And the longest, you suppose.

Although, it seems the same can’t be said for your coworkers, as you practically hear their beams of excitement before they can vocalise it.

“Welcome back, General Jing Yuan!”

You sigh at the enthused greeting from one of your coworkers, the beginnings of a headache teetering along the edges of your conscience. 

Ignoring the commotion, you resume your work. What was it you were making again…? Oh, right. One milk tea and a—

“If you keep frowning like that, you’ll drive away customers.”

“Will it drive you away?” you retort, focusing on the last part of the order. After securing the small fruit tart from behind the display case, you pass the milk tea and pastry to a coworker so they can take it to the customer.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he drawls, impish smile magnified by the glimmer in his eyes when you turn to make contact, “but it’ll take much more than that to drive me away.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, unsure of what it is exactly he wants from you this time. Your eyes begin to narrow. “Are you saying a smile will drive you away?”

He feigns an exaggerated expression of hurt. “Drive me away? Oh, how your accusations wound me!” A chuckle bubbles from his throat when you glare at him for his theatrics, lifting his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I concede. Would you believe me if I said I’m worried your attention will be stolen away from me if you smile?”

“Not at all.”

“I’m merely looking out for you, [Name],” he says with a sigh, a shake of his head and a light tutting sound. “While I am immune to your smile, the customers are not. I don’t wish for you to be bored due to the lack of customers.”

Seriously, you can’t believe this guy sometimes. If he wants a challenge, then you accept.

And so you close your eyes and present your best century-perfected customer smile (which, to your credit, has been the number one selling point for many of the regulars and returning customers), deciding to play along with his whims. “Welcome back, General Jing Yuan. Would you like your usual today?”

(Granted, he likes to vary his order every now and then but the caramel latte seems to be his most consistent choice as of late. Pretty good taste, if you do say so yourself.)

“…”

…Why is it so quiet all of a sudden? Did everyone just unanimously decide to up and leave?? Is there a minute of silence you’re unaware of???

A meek cough disrupts your thoughts. Relieved at the new sound, you open your eyes only to be stumped by the general in front of you. His prior relaxed posture is now rigid, eyes focusing everywhere but on you. Wait, upon closer inspection, is he… shaking?

“...Please excuse me.”

Huh?

You’re not given much time to process his words. With one swift turn he’s already stalking towards the door.

“Hey! What happened to not being driven away?!” He doesn’t turn back at your shout. No, it seems to only make him speed-walk faster. Barely a blink and he’s gone, the only indication of his presence being the echoing chimes of the bell.

He bigged himself up saying he wouldn’t be driven away but then he goes and leaves you in the dust the moment you smile.

What a hypocrite.

(Unbeknown to you, the regulars who happened to witness the spectacle could only chuckle in fond exasperation at their general’s splutter and flushed skin, the only time they can truly get a read on his thoughts, and your dumbfounded expression.)

“One milk tea, as always.”

“No need to sound so enthusiastic,” Tingyun laughs before thanking you. A satisfied hum leaves her lips when drinking the beverage, and that’s all the indication you need to know you have, once again, aced the recipe.

Well done, me! You deserve a pat on the back and a century-long holiday away from as many people as possible!

Graceful movements snap you out of your fantasies. You blink rapidly to process the flutter of a fan, a disarmingly sweet giggle and a cold, paper-like material pressed into your palm.

“Have fun with your dream man~”

“Wait what—”

And then she’s gone, leaving you to stare blankly at the place she was standing mere moments prior. You’re starting to see a pattern here with people abruptly leaving you in a fit of confusion.

Well, nothing you can do about it now, you suppose. So instead you move your focus to the small, thin object enclosed in your hand. Its now-exposed surface gleams under the cafe lights, the reflection obscuring the details. A picture? But what can you do with a—

Wait. Is that… Jing Yuan… winking at the camera…?

Sure enough, under the pressure of your scrutiny as you hold the picture in various angles and heights, the winking face of Jing Yuan stares back at you in mockery. Somehow, this photo feels slightly more personal than the usual ones Tingyun distributes to the masses. Actually, you’re not sure how she even manages to obtain these photos in the first place and, quite frankly, you think it's best you don’t know.

…The hell am I supposed to do with this?

Just as you were wondering what to do with the polaroid, a familiar voice comes from behind — almost as if the small, glossy image clutched between your fingers had the ability to summon him. “If you wanted my photo, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please don’t misunderstand, general,” you deadpan in response, your head swerving to meet his amused gaze before placing the photocard on the counter. “I was given this against my own will.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” he hums, a melodic sound which serves to speed up the palpitations of your heart. It comes to an abrupt slow, however, when you spot the corners of his lips lift into a smug curve, already dreading whatever it is that may leave his lips. “I wonder why I find that hard to believe.”

“That's not my problem.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

…

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He laughs at your groan, eyes crinkling with joy at the dispense of your suffering. Yeah, why suffer when you can make drinks? Besides, you already know he’ll accept whatever it is you make, so there’s no reason to ask for his opinion!

He follows close behind when you venture behind the counter in search of some ingredients, uncaring for the stares he receives from the customers who aren’t regulars. 

When you crouch, you shoot one last accusatory glare at the still-smiling general before disappearing to rifle through cabinets underneath. “For someone in a position such as yours, you sure do have a lot of spare time to be spending it on a humble cafe worker such as myself.”

You’re not sure if he responds, too focused on searching for what you need. After finding the ingredients, you rock back on your heels and stand, the top of your head brushing against something smooth. When you rise, you realise it was the back of Jing Yuan’s hand which you made contact with, as he grips the edge of the counter where your head most definitely would have hit if he hadn’t cushioned the impact.

He merely grins when your eyes travel up the length of his arm to meet his gaze. “Well, what can I say other than you are worth every second of my time.”

…

“Don’t look at me like that, [Name].”

“Like what?” You watch as his smile strains when you repeat his words from earlier, a victorious grin creeping its way onto your lips. “Alright, alright. I’ll make your drink now. It won’t take long.”

True to your words, it doesn’t take long. Within a matter of minutes you’ve prepared a caramel latte. (It was the only thing you could find ingredients for. Perhaps it’s time to go shopping again…)

After securing the lid on the takeaway cup, you hand it over to him. He reaches out, your fingers brushing slightly and—

The silence is unnervingly loud as you both stare blankly at the spilled drink rolling across the counter.

“...I’ll be charging extra for that latte today.”

“Aha…”

You’re no stranger to quiet days in the cafe, and neither are the staff and regulars. After a particular incident way back when, it’s safe to say the establishment has faced many peaceful shifts. Though that’s not to say there hasn’t been any disputes from customers, but they’re usually small, easy to resolve issues that only require a practised smile and a (sometimes threatening) deal before sending them on their merry way.

Today, however, doesn’t seem to be one of those easy days.

“Sir, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” your voice resounds in the quiet cafe, stern and unwavering. The man in question tears his attention away from his phone to glance over his shoulder, his once haughty expression now fallen into a scowl.

“And why’s that?” he asks after telling the other person on the line to wait for a moment. “I’m not being disruptive to anyone.” With the progressively hostile looks he’s been getting since earlier, you beg to differ. Well, even if he clearly is an outworlder unaware of the Xianzhou customs, that doesn’t justify his ignorance.

And you decide to tell him just that.

“Since you seem to be a visitor, let me give you a piece of advice: it would do you well to cease all mentions of seeking immortality when aboard any of the Xianzhou ships, lest you want to make an enemy of yourself to the locals.”

“Oh? And who are you to tell me that?” 

Your eye twitches at his haughty tone. Within a second your signature customer smile is plastered onto your expression, an even tone conveying your next words, “A Xianzhou Native, of course.”

And the next thing you know there’s a seething customer causing a disruption in the middle of the cafe. Though not unexpected, you still held onto a fraying hope that the issue could be resolved somewhat peacefully.

How bothersome.

A light weight plops itself atop the line of your shoulder, shifting slightly with a soft brush against your jaw before coming to a still. With a blink, you and the man share a brief moment of confusion, and you find yourself more stupefied at the finch gazing up at you with a slight tilt of its head.

It looks familiar, but that isn’t much to go off of. Besides, the first person to come to mind already said he would be busy this week, so you highly doubt he’s managed to appear at just the right time like always… right? Right—

“What seems to be the issue here?”

Your answer comes in the form of a tender warmth encasing your back, a beguiling voice resounding from behind, and a familiar scent relaxing your tensed muscles. It doesn’t take a genius to recognise who’s standing behind you, but perhaps it’s because you’re so used to his presence that you can identify him the moment he steps into a room.

“General…” you trail off at his unexpected appearance. Jing Yuan does not meet your gaze, however, instead choosing to remain upright behind you and fixate his focus onto the man who kicked up a fuss, expression hardened into that akin of a general.

The little finch is not deterred by the overwhelming presence Jing Yuan now exudes. Rather, it chirps happily and nudges its head against your jaw once more before making itself comfortable along the slope of your neck. Looking at it a little closer you realise it's the one who sometimes greets you when you and Jing Yuan meet up, finding purchase on your shoulder during a round or two of starchess. A smile makes its way onto your lips when it leans into the touch of your finger.

It would seem the small bird did a great job in distracting you, however, for the next thing you know wind sweeps past you, exclamatory apologies spewed out in haste follow and gradually fade in its wake. There’s a faint chime of the bell and a missing presence in front of you.

Oh, you blink, he ran away.

Jing Yuan turns to you then, expression much softer than it was a few moments prior. “Are you alright?” he asks, his hand gently squeezing your free shoulder.

“Yeah, thank you,” you sigh. Your fingers lift to massage away the built up tension in your temples. “I’m sorry you had to see that on your break.”

There’s a small pause. “You shouldn’t apologise for something like that.”

“Huh…?” It was a mistake to meet his gaze, you belatedly realise, for your breath is ceased by the flame which burns molten gold, your heart caught in your throat amidst a gravitas you haven’t seen for a while.

His lips part, tone gradually changing to something more light-hearted; a stark contrast to his current expression. “You were just doing your job. It was that customer who was in the wrong. Honestly, he should have known better than to talk so flippantly about that topic.”

Well, you can’t refute his words.

“What are you doing here anyway?” You cough in an attempt to divert the topic, only to raise a brow at his unreadable countenance. “I thought you said you would be busy.”

Jing Yuan pauses, as though hesitant, before responding, “I sent you a message to send notice of my visit but you didn’t even leave me on read, so I knew there was something wrong.”

“I didn’t even notice…” Without a moment’s haste, you pull out your phone. There on your home screen displays notification banners: 6 unread messages from my headache <3.

my headache <3: I have some free time, so I will be paying you a visit. Don’t mention this to Qingzu though, she doesn’t know I am taking a break. =w=

my headache <3: Are you busy? You don’t usually leave me on delivered for longer than five minutes.

my headache <3: Did I do something to make you mad?

my headache <3: [Name]?

my headache <3: …

my headache <3: I will be at the cafe soon. Wait for me.

A pang of guilt seeps into your conscience. You hadn’t realised he sent so many messages. Did that customer take up that much of your attention? Also, do you really not leave him on delivered for more than five minutes??

“Oh! You kept the heart I put there?” Your thoughts are promptly cut off by the baritone voice resounding beside your ear. His light breaths puff against your skin as he leans against you, peeking over your shoulder to read the messages he sent.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you huff, eyes trained onto the device to avoid meeting his gaze. “I said you could make any changes you wanted to your contact name and this was what you wanted.”

He stiffens at your words, breath stuttering ever so slightly against your skin but quickly catches himself. There’s no response for a while, instead a wave of calm washes over you as you scroll through your phone with Jing Yuan watching from his place over your shoulder, sometimes recalling a particular memory which comes to mind at certain photos in your camera roll.

It goes on like this for a little while until he shifts, strands of silver brushing against the shell of your ear when he releases a light sigh. You glance over your shoulder only to see him already looking at you, the lines of his features soft and gentle.

“You know,” he starts, voice soft with a twinge of nostalgia seeping through, “I’m your first and longest supporter.”

Well, that certainly came out of the blue.

But he’s not wrong, and perhaps that is why you find yourself huffing out a breathy laugh in response. “What? You want me to praise you?”

“Would you?” he asks, an instantaneous response to your lighthearted jest.

You stare at him, incredulous, but he doesn’t falter. His gaze holds weight, seizing your breath and rendering you speechless. Ah, he really isn’t good for your heart.

“Keep dreaming, general.”

Despite the scoff backing those words, you make no effort to hide your smile. And though you don’t catch it, Jing Yuan makes no effort to hide the adoration glistening in his gaze.

Sidestep to the left. Duck. Step back. Parry. Clang! Step to the right. Pivot. Clack! Raise your arm—!

A sword flies up, twirling mid-air as it plummets back down and digs cleanly into the grass. It gleams under the artificial sun, becoming a focal point in the otherwise barren grounds. You straighten your posture, spear at your side and a bottle of water in hand as you approach the worn-out aspiring Sword Champion.

“You’ve improved, Yanqing.” You smile when he looks up, breathing ragged as he mumbles his thanks before guzzling down the fluids of the water bottle now in his hands. You sit beside him, and it’s not long before a refreshed sigh escapes him, setting the near-empty bottle in his lap.

A lapse of silence. A faint breeze. A wave of heat. A shift of gold.

You sigh upon noticing the boy’s gaze switching between you and your weapon. “What is it?”

“That spear,” he starts, “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“How so?”

“It’s different from the spears the rest of the Cloud Knight’s use and, even though it has a similar aura to the general’s Devastator Glaive, it feels like… it was almost made for you. A weapon that only you can wield.”

For a teen yet to explore the larger part of life, he is frighteningly perceptive. He’s quick to pick up subtle nuances and yet retains that innocent curiosity which enables him to ask questions most adults would not. It’s part of a child’s charm, and you can only hope he will never be robbed of that part of him.

“Made for me, you say?” You cast a glance to your side, vision tunnelling into the fine details which adorns the crafted spear. Despite the many centuries the weapon has braved through, it still appears as though it were only crafted yesterday. Its colours are still vibrant and its exterior holds minimal wear. Your breath hitches when your gaze trails down towards the hilt and hones in on the faintly carved names: yours and the one who gifted this to you.

Your mind numbs. There’s a matching bow which sits in your home, you recall, locked away in a spare room deep within the confinement of your walls. There are other accompaniments, too, surrounding it in decorated, bejewelled boxes filled with handicrafts ranging from everyday trinkets to carefully crafted ornaments carved from the purest of jades.

It sits there, collecting dust all year round. All year round except for one single day — a day when your thoughts surge to new heights and can only be tamed when in that room, cleaning off layers of dust and spiralling into seemingly endless nostalgia. It serves as both a commemoration of the past as well as a reminder for what will never again be.

Immortality truly is a wretched thing.

“[Name]?”

You blink, snapping out of your thoughts. Yanqing, who was sitting beside you mere moments prior, is in front of you with a hand on your shoulder. He probably shook you while you were lost in thought, you surmise. How mortifying…

“Your teacher seems to be slacking off,” you cough, swiftly changing the topic. He doesn’t take note of your awkward transition, but, if he did, he’s done a good job hiding it. “Is he busy?”

“The general?” he repeats in a murmur, chin held between his thumb and forefinger with a contemplative expression. He blinks. “Nope! No clue.”

“I see,” you sweatdrop. Worry begins to pool in the back of your mind, but it is quickly smothered when Yanqing jumps up, bouncing on his heels as he shows off his recovered energy and readiness to spar with you for another round.

You cast one last glance at your spear before standing, following close behind an eager Yanqing as he bounds to the middle of the field with his sword in hand.

(You can still recall him; the young man who gave you these gifts way back when, putting on airs of nonchalance in a poor attempt at masking his bashfulness, the furtive glances, the hand raised to rub the back of his neck, the awkward cough he always did before excusing himself after gifting whatever it was he made that time — all of it is practically ingrained into your mind.

You can still recall him; how could you not when he is the same man who haunts you when in your lonesome.)

--

He’s not here. Again.

You’ve lost count of the number of times your focus darts to the door when a resounding chime of the bell is heard, only to be left with aching disappointment when it turns out to be anyone other than Jing Yuan. His radio silence is concerning, though you suppose any kind of silence from him has that effect considering he always made sure to notify you when he would be busy, therefore unable to visit you due to urgent matters.

Has he been well? Has he been eating regularly? What of his sleeping habits? He’s not overworking himself again, is he? What if he left on an expedition without saying anything?

Your answer appears in the form of Yukong.

“The general?” she repeats, blowing lightly on the freshly brewed coffee before answering you. “While I am not completely in the know, I’ve heard in passing that he has been cooped up in his office. For once.”

It’s practically common knowledge to the Luofu citizens how Jing Yuan tends to be absent from the Seat of Divine Foresight. More often than not, he will appear as a hologram, sometimes choosing to instead give advance notice of his lack of presence. Well, you suppose most have grown accustomed to finding him at the cafe. So for him to now hide away in his office without a word is of course a matter of concern. After all, the last time he did this was years ago, and that was because he didn’t want you to worry about… him.

You pause, fists clenching at your belated realisation. A tinge of frustration begins to creep up, but the concern over his condition is far more prevalent, curling around and constricting your heart as worry clouds your senses. “That guy…”

--

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he comments, voice languid in a valiant attempt to hide the undertone of surprise at your arrival. He quickly recovers with a genial smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your arrival?” 

Admittedly, it would have fooled many others. Unfortunately, you have known him too long to be fooled by such tactics. You’re sure he knows, if the slight waver in his gaze has anything to say about it.

Instead of answering, you choose to remain still in front of the now-shut doors. He doesn’t seem to notice though, as he merely resumes his task in a robotic manner. Except for the two of you, the office is void of the usual stationed knights and his few assistants, making the room feel much larger. It’s daunting.

Your unease does not fade after hearing his voice. No, it only heightens, his sluggish movements and voice laden with exhaustion further spiralling you into a state of distress over his well-being. You watch his slow blinks, head dipping slightly only to snap up to prevent himself from falling into slumber before continuing to sign document after document, replacing each signed sheet with a new one in a never-ending cycle.

It would have been comical if you weren’t aware of the fact he’s been neglecting his health to finish these papers.

Typically, he wouldn’t be having this issue, always having been the type to get his work done ahead of time despite his… less than professional demeanour at times, though it seems the papers have been brought in heavy bulk this time around; that, or they contained pressing matters which couldn’t be put off.

“Take a break,” you finally say, unable to stand the sight of him pushing himself any longer. He doesn’t spare you a glance. If it weren’t for the brief pause in his writing before continuing, you would have thought he didn’t hear you. Teeth digging into your lower lip and eyes narrowing into a glare, you try once more. “I’m serious. Take a break.”

Palpable silence douses the room.

And then he lifts his head, meeting your furrowed gaze. His eyes are anything but bright, a dull glaze coupled with dark eyebags signifying his lack of sleep.

“I have to finish signing these papers,” Jing Yuan sighs out, giving what you assume to be an apologetic glance before lowering his head back down to resume the paperwork.

Unfortunately for him, you won’t allow him to succeed in his attempts.

“And I don’t want you to collapse from overwork again!” He flinches at that, and you know you have managed to convince him when he places his pen down on the table’s surface and relents with a deep sigh. When he finally nods, defeated, the building tension dissipates and you’re able to breathe without worry again.

With cautious steps, you make your way over to the large chair. Having been in this room countless times, it’s easy for you to glide to where Jing Yuan sits despite the darkness which now drapes like a veil over the interior.

When you reach his seat, your eyes harden at the scattered documents, staring at them for a few seconds in hopes it will miraculously burn them, before tearing your gaze away and focusing on your weary friend.

“Let’s get you home,” you mutter. You lean down and prepare to help him stand in case he needs the extra support after having sat for too long. It doesn’t go as planned, however, when he tugs you down beside him and plops his head onto your lap. “Hey—!”

“Just for a moment…” he intercepts, voice heavily laced with sleep. The second you lock eyes, you know it’s all over for you. “Just for a moment, stay here with me.”

And you sigh knowing ‘a moment’ will turn into hours. But you’re fine with that. As long as he gets his rest and can finally let his guard down, you would gladly lend him your lap for days on end.

“Fine.” You shift slightly to provide him more comfort. “Take as long as you need. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He responds in the form of a grateful smile and soft squeeze to your hand. Within a matter of seconds he’s sound asleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest soothing the dull ache in your heart.

Cautiously, you raise your free hand and reach out to his peaceful expression. His hair is silkier than you last remember, easily threading your fingers through the soft strands to brush them away from obscuring his features.

‘Than I last remember’, huh…

Your eyes trail to the hand clutched in his.

Thinking back on it, it has been a while since you last relaxed like this with him. Life tends to be busy, the cafe takes up most of your time, and Jing Yuan has his official duties to take care of. No matter how lax he tries to play it off, you’re aware he has his hands full with governmental affairs and conjuring a multitude of tactics to minimise losses. That’s the kind of person he is — to badger you about the happenings in your life, yet hide away and gloss over his with a genial mask so as to not worry you.

You’ve always hated that part of him. Why can’t you worry for him? Why must it always be he who consoles you but not the other way around? Does he truly not know how his evasive tendencies pain you, intentional or not?

Questions, questions, questions; all these questions and yet there’s never a concrete answer.

Is he… really so oblivious to the way his secrecy is what spurs your distance with him?

Your hand pauses.

Perhaps steadily drawing a line between you is a pointless pursuit in clinging onto the past, a fleeting hope for everything to revert back to the way it was before; to deny the happenings of bygones which paved the way for the present.

Things will never be what they once were. You understand that. You accept that. And, perhaps, that is what makes it hurt all the more.

Four familiar faces emerge from deep within the hidden crevices of your conscience, ones you have not physically seen for a long time — too long, perhaps. And yet they appear just as vivid as before everything went up in flames, endlessly haunting you when you’re left alone with the silence of your own mind. No matter how tightly you shut your eyes in blatant refusal of their presence, nor the strength in which you cover your ears to drown out the remnants of their voices, they never leave you alone. They cling to you, desperate; the same way in which you are to be free of them.

But even so, in spite of the hostility and bitterness and hurt which remains in their wake and binds itself to their legacies, you cannot help but to wish they are doing well, wherever it is they may now be.

And maybe it’s the full moon glaring down at you which spurs this wishful thinking but, on the off-chance they return, perhaps those of you that are left can gather at the cafe after closing hours and chat about anything and everything, exciting and menial, you have come to experience in the time spent apart.

(Just like old times.)

But, of them, only Jing Yuan remains, and maybe that is why he doesn’t manifest alongside them as a result of this aching nostalgia, instead resting peacefully on your thighs with steady, even breaths; the only indication that he truly is here with you.

“We will be okay, Jing Yuan,” you find yourself whispering as you gaze down at him. “We’ve made it this far, and we’ll continue on, braving through our fate.”

The image of him blurs, his colours further contorting the more you try to blink it away. It is then you force your eyes shut, lean down towards him, lightly brush away his fringe and press two fleeting, chaste kisses: one against the skin of his forehead and the other atop the mole under his left eye. “If not for myself, then, for you, I’ll be okay.”

Whether that’s to reassure you or him… you’re not sure.

For as long as you can remember, Jing Yuan has always been with you.

It wasn’t merely a matter of staying by each other’s side during the day; no, it’s more than that. Your relationship runs deep — centuries bordering a millennia worth of memories tucked away in the crevices of your mind — and it would be an understatement to say you know each other like the back of your hand.

Together, the two of you have been through it all, in practically every sense of the word.

--

Despite enlisting into the Cloud Knights, it was far from what you wanted, instead aligning with the demands of your parents. To have that expectation of continuing your family’s tradition, to have that burden of battling for the Xianzhou Luofu’s legacy, to have that constant worry of one day being mara-struck due to your race, to perhaps never be able to do what you want for yourself, shackled to generations of family service… that was the meaning of your existence. Whether you liked it or not.

You eventually gave up, simply accepting your unwanted fate and following the hollowed footsteps carved by your ancestors. That was how you ended up amongst the new recruits for the Cloud Knights and listening to the current general’s speech about glory and honour and pride — all for the Xianzhou Alliance; all for the Xianzhou Luofu; all for the Cloud Knights.

Fate is such a weird thing, you remember thinking to yourself as your gaze swept across many others in the same uniform as you. Because despite you all looking the same, despite you all holding the same make of spear, you knew their passion and dedication to serve the alliance would far outweigh your own.

He was no exception.

Contrary to you, the boy who stood a couple rows in front wanted to be there. It was obvious in the way his eyes glimmered, the way he held himself in an upright posture and focused with rapt attention on the general at the front. Perhaps that was what caught your eye back then — the pure, unadulterated desire rolling off him had rooted you in place and forced your attention to be on him.

With a sigh you averted your gaze. There was only one thought which resonated within you in that brief moment: you would never grow close to that boy.

For, unlike you, he was made to shine under the glow of the artificial sun, while you were a passionless bystander relinquished of your fate.

--

It wasn’t long before you made a name for yourself amongst the new recruits of the Cloud Knights. It stemmed from a training session-turned-competition. One which you came out on top.

A natural prodigy is what they called you.

A lucky fluke is what they whispered behind your back.

Looking back, you’re not sure why you tried so hard. Did you think you would have it easy if you won? If anything, it probably made your future that much more troublesome with weighty expectations and watchful eyes from those around you.

Well, there went your quiet life.

At least it couldn’t be as suffocating as it would be back at home. The most you would receive are jealous glances from your weaker peers, or urges from your trainers to try a bit harder. But what reason was there to try when the outcome never changed?

“Why are you here?”

“Huh?” When you looked up, hands still gripped tight around the length of your training spear, your unimpressed eyes met pools of gold. They widened upon contact.

“Wait— that’s not what I—!” he had cut himself off with a sigh, pink dusting his cheeks. He quickly regathered himself and faced you once more. “I mean, why are you here when you clearly don’t want to be? I watched your matches earlier, but there was no light in your eyes… Kind of like now.”

Was that the expression you had? You would never know. What you did know was that the boy was persistent. Evading the topic would not work on him and, quite frankly, you were tired.

“I’m only here because of my parents,” you began. Your fists clenched and your eyes hardened as you lowered your gaze to the grass. “I hate my fate. I have no say in what I can or can’t do in my own life. That’s all there is to it.”

There was a moment of silence after your sombre words. Maybe now he would leave you alone and be on his way. Just like it should be. Someone like him who shines above the rest has no business with you, whose passion was extinguished before it could manifest.

“That’s not true.” Your gaze snapped up, words of protest ready to be let loose only for that burst of anger to dissipate the second you locked eyes. “You can escape your fate.”

“Hah! What nonsense are you—”

“Because that’s what I did.” You blinked once, twice. Your disbelief must have been obvious by the way he flushed slightly, the crimson tinge spanned from the tips of his ears to the apples of his cheeks. “I mean, my ‘fate’ was originally supposed to be a scholar or some kind of official in the Realm-Keeping Commission and follow my family’s footsteps, but look where I am now. I’m nowhere near that.” 

It was strange. He was not supposed to be someone similar to you. He was supposed to be someone you could only gaze at from afar. He burned brightly; you did not.

And yet, through his next words, you discovered that you, too, were capable of dreaming and hoping, the light suddenly appearing in what you deemed to be an abyssal darkness.

“I’m now a Cloud Knight, and I believe that you can also change your fate!”

A sense of camaraderie formed between you and the golden boy that day, an odd, tingling warmth coiled around your heart. Though an unfamiliar feeling, you found you didn’t hate it.

--

“Master asked about you today.”

“Tell her my answer is still no.”

“You don’t even know what she asked about!”

“Don’t need to.”

A sigh came from your left at your instant retorts, but that didn’t bother you. The sun was still up and you were set on soaking up as much of it as you could before Jing Yuan had to leave for his training.

It had been a couple years since you first met now, and you somehow became an inseparable pair; where one of you would be spotted, the other wouldn’t be far behind if not already there.

Well, most of the time, at least.

When Jing Yuan had caught the attention of the Sword Champion, Jingliu, he was offered a place in her team. He accepted, of course, and ever since then he began training under her guidance. As a result, those were the only times you were actively separated.

But by extension, you were somehow roped into her interest.

“So this is where you were.” You grimaced at the familiar tone, turning away as Jing Yuan scrambled beside you.

“Master…!”

“You go on ahead, Jing Yuan. There’s something I need to discuss with [Name].”

Although you hadn’t raised your head, the hesitation in Jing Yuan’s movements were clear. The silence stretched on for a long few seconds before he sighed, “I’ll meet you after I finish, [Name].”

And then he was gone, only you and the Sword Champion remained under the tree’s shade. Blades of grass swayed under the faint breeze, but that, too, came to a standstill within seconds.

“I noticed you didn’t take the oath earlier,” Jingliu said, the silence broken.

A humourless laugh escaped your lips. “I didn’t realise the Sword Champion was keeping such a close eye on me.”

“You’re hiding your talent.” You fell silent at her abrupt statement. Your fingers twitched when she continued. “I know you’re capable of more than you let on.”

What do you know? You thought to yourself as your fingers dug into the grass. You know nothing about me, so stop acting like it.

You never understood why she was so persistent. Was it because of how close you and Jing Yuan were? Had your parents somehow managed to contact and persuade her? What did she even gain from chasing after you when it was clearly a waste of her time? Why…

“Why… why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because he worries for you.” Your body stilled at her words. You stayed silent for a moment before responding, albeit weaker than your previous tone.

“I’m fine. There’s no reason to worry about me.”

“…[Name]—”

“It’s probably best if you go. Jing Yuan’s waiting for you.” She faltered at your words, ultimately conceding.

A sigh escaped you when you noticed her fall back and prepare to head to their usual training spot. She lingered however, and cast a glance over her shoulder to regard you once more.

“You should visit our training sometime,” Jingliu uttered, her usual stern expression a touch softer than what you were used to. “It would be nice to train together, and you can spend more time with Jing Yuan. I hope you can at least consider it.” And then you could only watch as she walked away, the hues of the sunset steadily engulfing her form.

Back then you had scoffed at her words, unaware of the bond you would come to form with the members of the High-Cloud Quintet as a result of your wretched curiosity.

--

“Someone became mara-struck on the expedition.”

“What…?” A soft gasp came from your left. “Is that why only you…”

“Yeah,” you hummed. You had no courage to face your friend next to you, choosing to instead stare listlessly at your quivering hands. “It happened so quickly. One moment we were discussing tactics, the next we heard screaming. It was agonising. And then, in the blink of an eye…” you gulped, drawing in a harsh breath as your hands clenched into fists, “I killed her. I had to. I… I was the only one left from the team and she kept coming after me and I realised then I truly didn’t want to die and—!”

Your words came to an abrupt halt, smothered by an all-too familiar warmth. The beat of his heart against your ear calmed your erratic breaths, allowing you to regain some semblance of composure. Even when you could no longer hear the rapid pounding of your heart ringing through your ears you remained slumped against his chest, the fatigue weighing down your muscles.

“Jing Yuan,” you called in a hoarse tone, “am I a monster now?”

“You’re not,” came his immediate response. You couldn’t find it in you to believe him.

“But I killed someone, Jing Yuan! We were comrades in arms and I took her life!”

“The situation was out of your control and it was the only thing you could do. It was for your survival and to stop her from suffering any longer. You’re not a monster, [Name].” His voice was steady like a pillar of support, a calm sound that could make you believe all the prior happenings were a mere nightmare you’d just awoken from. His arms around you tightened and pushed you further into his familiarity. “You never could be. Never to me.”

That day was the first time you had ever cried so hard to the point you passed out, the exhaustion having finally caught up. That day you were left unaware of the tears Jing Yuan held back as he bore witness to your rare vulnerability, vision blurring and heart aching as he internally vowed to stay by your side — until he no longer physically could.

--

As you both grew older within this endless spiral of longevity, you could only watch as he became something more than a mere soldier of the Cloud Knights — as he began to be someone out of your reach and unfamiliar against a golden glow too radiant for you to perceive.

It wasn’t long after that you left the Cloud Knights for a placement in a newly opened cafe, having had enough of a life out of your control and dictated by others. You had stayed with the Cloud Knights long enough and you finally found the courage to leave after your numerous contributions.

And while your family may not have been pleased with your decision, Jing Yuan had been supportive, taking it upon himself to visit you when he could despite his limited free time in-between training and expeditions. The other four of the High-Cloud Quintet would tag along as well, sometimes relaying entertaining stories to embarrass the others or to simply catch up with you during your time apart as you readily prepared food and drinks for the six of you to enjoy.

It felt like a dream to still be able to laugh with them.

Unfortunately, all dreams must come to an end. It was a notion that was so glaringly obvious, and yet it never truly occurred to you; not when their visits gradually became less frequent. Not when you began to notice the tension between a couple of your friends. Not when a familiar cold lingered during the moments where all was silent and you were alone.

It was through those moments you foolishly clung to the fraying hope that everything would turn out okay — that all the budding tension would smooth itself out, allowing for you to all converse like it never happened and to move past the hurdle.

Perhaps it was because you had deluded yourself into believing everything would be okay that, the moment your fantasy shattered before your very eyes, it hit you in a way far more torturous than death could ever hope to be.

It hit you in the form of Jing Yuan returning to you on that fateful day in his lonesome, eyes hollow and empty, body battered and bruised; your heart which beat for him shattered when he slumped against you, your world crashing in pursuit. The after-effects of the sobs wracking his battle-worn being reverberated through your slack form, a seemingly endless stream of tears stung the skin along the crook of your neck as he released his unfiltered anguish within your trembling embrace.

You found there was no need to ask how the confrontation with Jingliu went, for his desperate grip and hitched breaths spoke louder than his voice ever could.

At that moment, you believed there was nothing more painful than the sound of his broken cries — your mind, body and soul yearning to take his pain and make it your own at the sheer despair in his eyes as he seeked your comfort. In that moment, you had never felt so powerless, so utterly weak and useless when all you could do in the face of his agony was lend him your familiarity in the confines of the closed cafe.

Even now, seven hundred years later, you still do not believe there to be anything more painful.

During your quiet moments, you’ve always wondered what it would be like to experience some of the scenes penned in countless novels you’ve read. Would they be just as heart-throbbing as the authors depict them to be? Or would they fall flat and lacklustre when put into a real-world scenario?

What about the stories you’ve overheard during your shifts, or the tales the regulars recounted during the slow days? Would they ever happen to you as well? You’ve always wondered about these things, however…

Just what is this situation?? Isn’t it a bit too similar to that one scene in a novel you recently read? Well, it’s not as if you’re hiding away in the middle of an apocalypse, but the setting of an empty cafe after dark where it is just the two of you still remains the same.

Jing Yuan stands before you, his imposing silhouette prominent against the fragmented brushes of moonlight, pools of molten gold stark against the night’s backdrop. He remains still in the face of your racing thoughts.

The pelting rain (courtesy of the alliance’s artificial weather) drowns your thoughts. In all honesty, you can’t recall how you came to be in this situation. One moment you were closing up the cafe, the next a sudden downpour arrived alongside a drenched general. In your haste to bring him inside, you didn’t stop to think about why he was in the rain in the first place, the only objective in your mind being to dry him as soon as possible.

And so that’s what you did. Only, in your attempt to persuade the man to share an umbrella and walk back home, you were pulled back into him, the umbrella rolling helplessly across the floor as he rooted you in place by the presence of his hands on your shoulders.

Which leads you to your current predicament now.

“What is it?” you ask upon noticing his silence. There is hesitation in his silence. It prolongs in the way a void is endless, stretching on for miles upon miles with no end in sight. There’s a flicker of light in the form of his voice as he brings himself to speak, his words firm yet lacking that usual self-assured intonation he always has.

“Am I someone close to you? No, do you consider me as someone close to you?”

“What nonsense are you…” your words die out when you fail to see his usual air of playfulness, a grave countenance piercing you in its stead. “Of course I consider you as someone close to me. I wouldn’t have spent centuries upon centuries by your side otherwise.” He doesn’t seem to take your light jest well, if his darkening expression has anything to say about it.

“Then why are you still formal with me, even when in private and away from prying eyes?”

“Because you’re one of the Seven Arbiter-Generals, while I am a cafe employee. In a realistic perspective, we are not the same and I’m aware of our boundaries. In fact,” you mumble, meeting his conflicted gaze with a blank one, “I should be the one asking you if I’m someone close to you.”

It’s silent for a brief moment, up until a whispered murmur of “And just who is the one speaking nonsense now?” shatters it.

Your patience, too, shatters alongside it.

“Then what else am I supposed to think when you’re always keeping things from me? You’re always asking about what I’ve done in the day and prying into the details of my life, but what about you? Whenever I ask how things are, or if there’s anything troubling you, you just brush it off like it’s nothing and avoid answering altogether! Am I not allowed to worry about you? Am I not someone who can lend you a shoulder?

You always blabbered about sharing each other’s pain, to not keep our hardships to ourselves, but take a look at yourself first. ‘Am I someone close to you?’ ‘Do you consider me as someone close to you?’ You have no right to ask me those questions when it’s you who's been the one keeping their distance this whole time. What…” A shuddering breath escapes you, your mouth running dry amidst your high emotions. There’s a dull pain which spreads through your bottom lip, your teeth digging into the soft flesh just as your nails do in your palms. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you can only hope it's enough to prevent the well of tears building behind your lids. “What else am I supposed to do if you refuse to let me in?”

You’re tired, you come to realise. Tired of his avoidance and tired of his secrecy. Even if you don’t have the energy to voice your other built-up sentiments, you have an inkling he already knows — whether or not he wants to admit it… well, that’s a problem for him, not for you.

The sigh you release is heavy; heavy with emotion and fatigue.

Your gaze drifts to the window behind the silent man. Despite the ripples in the puddles, the previous downpour has begun to let up, now only a faint pitter patter is all that remains. Seeing how Jing Yuan has made no effort to move or speak, you decide it would be best to leave as soon as possible. After all, there is no fight left in you, only a frail shell hollowed by your insecurities.

When you try to move, however, his grip tightens. You’re pulled closer than you were just a moment ago and his fingers dig into the fabric of your clothing — as though he were desperate to keep you in his sights. Your protests die before they can even arise, for the way his eyes glimmer despite there being no light renders you immobile.

“Do you really not see?” His voice comes in the form of a broken whisper, and you try to suppress the suffocating ache in your heart when he gazes at you as though he witnessed you pluck the stars and hand it to him.

“See what?” you scoff, a weak sound that pales against the hammering of your pulse. “All I see is a coward running away from his problems.”

A cold silence. A trembling grip. A shuddering breath.

“You’re right. I am a coward.” You’re taken aback by his ready agreement, though you’re unable to dwell on it for long when his voice gradually begins to rise, his emotions spilling over in pursuit. “I run from problems I cannot handle. I avoid anything that can be deemed as troublesome. I fear that if I burden you with my pain — with my hardships — you will grow tired of me and leave. You’re already so far away, you’ve always been so far from my reach, and yet…” A strained gulp follows his dying words. “And yet if even your fading silhouette is something I can no longer see, then I don’t know what I will do with myself.”

There’s a plethora of things you want to say, but none can be articulated. No matter how much you try and force the words out, nothing is uttered. Just as you think the words will string together, he laughs, humourless and empty.

“You’re right. I have no right to ask you when I’m the one pushing you away — when I’m the one causing this rift between us. But what else must I do to stay by your side, if not this? Where else can I reach you, if not shadowed by your light? You’re the last person I want to lose, [Name], so please,” his voice trembles ever so slightly, a detail that would go unheard if it were not for the fact it is just the two of you, a desolate silence, and frail streaks of moonlight, “don’t go to some place I can’t find you.” 

His chest heaves in tandem with his shuddering breaths, the only sound which punctures the still air. You’re not sure which is louder: that, or the white noise ringing amidst your senses. There is no room for thought, however, as you barely take note of your lips parting and the words which leave them.

“You… make me feel like a fool the longer I stay with you.” Your words are not loud, nor are they particularly harsh. But with the current atmosphere being so tense, you may as well have shouted them from the bottom of your heart with the way the echo ricochets within the empty cafe.

Even if your words are not loud, the silence most definitely is; deafeningly so.

After your… confession, for a lack of better words, belatedly registers in your conscience, you have half a mind to slap yourself silly. After all, who in their right mind responds to such an emotional, heartfelt barrage with… that.

You, it would seem.

(A petty part of you deems it fine considering the inner turmoil he’s put you through for Aeons knows how long.)

“Do you want to know something?” he asks, leaving you with no time to linger on your life choices. “When I’m with you, I feel like a fool as well.” Your surprise must have been obvious as he chuckles lightly with a gaze never straying from you. There’s a subtle shift in the atmosphere, one which lightens your heart without dismissing the emotions woven into the space between you. Before you can even think up a response, he continues. “Even if I rehearse what I plan to say to you, it rarely comes out the way I want. Sometimes the words don’t even come out at all. It’s always been this way, even before we became acquainted with each other.”

You blink at his words, stupefied. “You mean back when we were first enlisted into the Cloud Knights?” His sheepish chuckle is answer enough. “Wait— you mean— since all the way back then— huh??”

“Yeah,” he responds, voice light and teeming with unbridled affection, “since the moment I saw you in the welcome ceremony.”

????? Since then?! All you can remember is not wanting anything to do with him back then! To think you never noticed anything until he said it now, though technically it’s not entirely your fault since he never explicitly said anything… right?

Yeah, no it’s both your faults.

“I’m sorry to not have noticed anything till now,” you sigh, your head drooping. “Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

(Jing Yuan just barely manages to control himself from kissing you senseless right then and there. Who gave you the right to be so adorable?? Not him, but you won’t catch him complaining.)

“Anything, you say?” he asks after a cough or two. Your eyes narrow at his behaviour before shrugging it off.

“Well, within reason…” you trail off at his pointed look, your mouth instantly shutting at his expression akin to — dare you say — puppy-dog eyes. It’s oddly cute, though you’ve always found his sleepy, cat-like demeanour to be the most endearing and heart-melting of all. (Not that you would ever admit this to him, of course. Well, not when he’s awake, at least.) And so, unsurprisingly, you relent. “Okay. Anything.”

“Then don’t be formal and act distant in public. Just call me ‘Jing Yuan’ familiarly like you used to.”

You blink once, twice. “...That’s it?”

“Well,” he drawls, “considering how you only addressed me as ‘General’ or ‘General Jing Yuan’, which was admittedly closer to my preference, despite being one of the few who were well aware I never wanted to be a general in the first place, I believe it’s the least you can do to show your sincerity.”

You scoff. “You sure know how to hold a grudge, foolish Jing Yuan.”

And he laughs, a breathy melody which sets your heart ablaze. Then you feel his fingers thread through yours, the faint callouses brushing against the back of your hand a testament to his battle prowess.

His lashes flutter shut as your hand is brought up towards his lips. Just as the plush of his lips grazes against your palm, his head dips, instead planting a soft kiss along the pulse point of your inner wrist. There’s a huff of laughter against your warmed skin, and you’re positive it’s because he found amusement in the way your pulse surged and stuttered under his lips.

Smug bastard.

His lashes flutter once more when they open into a half-lidded gaze, your wrist growing ticklish as his lips begin to move against your skin as he murmurs out, “I suppose that makes two of us, my foolish [Name].” When he turns to stare at you completely, his expression is nothing short of soft — eyes filled to the brim and overflowing with tender adoration doused in liquid gold and a warm, gentle curve of a smile that has you clammed up and breathless.

“Yeah,” you mumble after regaining some semblance of composure, unable to stop the smile which blooms on your lips, “I suppose it does.”

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

[mythicalmaven]

Practice makes perfect - Landoscar (ONESHOT)

masterlist

Here is a little extra upload to celebrate me reaching 100 followers! <3 My first Landoscar smut! Couldn't help myself guys! I hope you like it, let me know!

↳pairing: oscar piastri x lando norris ↳word count: 6.4K ↳warnings: smut, 18+ content (MDNI!), handjob (both receiving), oral sex, coming untouched, feelings, fluff, talking about sex, kissing, praising, feelings realization, explicit sexual content, friends to lovers

↳summary: Oscar doesn't now how to seduce a girl & Lando is there to help. Lando is basically offering that Oscar can practice with him, while he teaches him his ways. Whatever they were doing, it wasn't supposed to make Oscar feel the way it did. After all, Lando was only there to help. Yet it evolved their once purely platonic relationship into something deeper.

The first time it happened was race weekend. Oscar lay on the couch in his drivers' room, frustration building as he stared at his phone. With a growl of exasperation, he threw it against the wall, grateful for the indestructible case that protected it.

It took no more than ten seconds before Lando barged into the room, not even bothering to knock. "What the hell happened?"

Oscar groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Nothing, just... I'm so frustrated, man."

Lando raised an eyebrow, taking a seat opposite Oscar. "Frustrated about what?"

Oscar sighed heavily, lifting his head to meet Lando's concerned gaze. "I was scrolling through my feed and stumbled upon this video. Some edited thirst trap of me, saying how hot I am. And it just... it got to me."

Lando frowned. "Why? People think you're hot, that's a good thing, right?"

Oscar huffed, leaning back against the couch. "It is, but it feels like a cruel joke. People can think that way about me, but I can't even get a girl to look at me twice. Meanwhile, you just look at a girl, and she follows you to your bedroom."

Lando chuckled, shaking his head. "It's not as easy as you think, Oscar. But seriously, it shouldn't be that hard for you. What's the issue?"

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. "I freeze, Lando. I see a girl, and I can talk to her a little, but when it comes to seducing her, I just... I can't. I get to the point of kissing, but anything more intimate, I freeze up. I'm scared of screwing it up, so I don't even try. But it's driving me insane. I just want to get laid."

Lando's expression softened. "You need to loosen up a bit. Try being sensual, use lingering touches, suggestive words."

Oscar shook his head, looking helpless. "I don't know how to do any of that. I don't know what to say, where to touch. I'm not a virgin; I've had girlfriends before, but one-night stands? I just can't figure it out. I want to be able to seduce someone, to praise her, but I don't know how."

Lando's eyes glinted with a hint of mischief as he leaned closer. "I could help you, teach you a thing or two."

Oscar looked at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"

Lando's smile turned suggestive. "You can practice on me."

Oscar's heart skipped a beat. He hesitated, the idea making his pulse race. "Wouldn't that make things weird? We're teammates."

Lando shrugged. "It's just a way to help a friend out. Nothing more."

Oscar gulped, nerves making his hands tremble. "How are you planning on doing that?"

Lando's smile widened. "I have two ideas. I could show you how I'd seduce a girl and do those things to you, or you could practice on me, and I'll guide you."

The tension in the room thickened as Oscar considered it. The mere idea of Lando touching him that way stirred unexpected arousal within him. Was he even into guys? He'd always found Lando handsome, but he'd never thought of him in that way. He tried to push those thoughts aside.

"Alright," Oscar said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let's try it."

Lando's hand moved to Oscar's thigh, squeezing lightly. "We can try both methods, but let's start with a little practice. Pretend I'm someone in a club you're trying to seduce. I'll guide you."

Oscar nodded, his throat dry. Lando's hand crept upwards, inching closer, causing Oscar's breath to hitch. It shouldn't make him feel this way, but it did. Lando's touch was both electrifying and comforting.

"Relax," Lando murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Start with a light touch. Girls like it when you're gentle but confident."

Oscar placed a trembling hand on Lando's arm, trailing his fingers lightly over the fabric of his shirt. The heat of Lando's skin seeped through, making Oscar's pulse quicken.

"Good," Lando said, his eyes darkening with something Oscar couldn't quite place. "Now, try touching my neck. Most girls love that."

Oscar's fingers traced up to Lando's neck, the skin soft and smooth. He could feel Lando's pulse beneath his fingertips, matching the rapid beat of his own heart. He brushed his thumb over the pulse point, and Lando's breath hitched.

"Like this?" Oscar asked, his voice barely audible.

"Exactly," Lando breathed, his eyes half-lidded. "Now, compliment her. Tell her what you like about her."

Oscar's mind raced, struggling to find the right words. "You look... really good," he said, his voice shaky. "I like your eyes."

Lando chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down Oscar's spine. "Try to sound more confident. Mean it."

Oscar took a deep breath, steadying himself. "You look amazing. Your eyes are captivating."

Lando's hand moved higher up Oscar's thigh, and he bit back a moan. "Better. Then, try kissing her neck. Just lightly."

Oscar hesitated, then leaned in, his lips brushing against Lando's neck. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through him, and he felt Lando's breath catch. He kissed softly, trailing his lips up to Lando's jawline.

"That's it," Lando whispered, his voice rough with arousal. "Keep going."

Oscar's confidence grew with each kiss, his hands exploring Lando's body with increasing boldness. He could feel Lando's arousal mirroring his own, making him bolder. His hand trailed down to Lando's chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

Lando's hand moved to Oscar's jeans, palming him gently. Oscar gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily. "How does that feel?" Lando asked, his voice thick with desire.

"Amazing," Oscar managed to say, his voice strained. "It feels really good."

"Tell me what you like," Lando instructed, his hand working Oscar through his jeans.

"I... I like the way you touch me," Oscar said, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "It makes me feel..."

"Feel what?" Lando prompted, his hand squeezing lightly.

"Hot. Aroused," Oscar admitted, a moan escaping his lips. "I like how you look at me, how you make me feel."

Lando smiled, his eyes dark with lust. "Good. Now, let’s take it a step further. Guide my hand, show me what you want."

Oscar's hand trembled as he placed it over Lando's, guiding him to his zipper. The sound of it opening was loud in the quiet room, and Oscar's breath hitched as Lando's hand slipped inside. The warmth and firmness of Lando's hand wrapped around Oscar's hardness, sending a shiver through him.

"Tell me how it feels," Lando whispered, his hand starting to move slowly, teasingly.

"So good," Oscar moaned, his hips bucking into Lando's touch. "It feels so good."

Lando's movements were slow and deliberate, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through Oscar's body. He could feel himself nearing the edge, his control slipping. "Keep talking," Lando urged, his own voice strained with desire.

"You’re so good at this," Oscar managed to say, his voice breaking. "I can’t... I can’t hold back."

"Then don’t," Lando murmured, his lips brushing against Oscar's ear. "Let go, Oscar. I’ve got you."

Oscar bit his lip, trying to hold back the tide of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him. He placed a trembling hand on Lando's wrist, stopping his movements. "Wait," he gasped, his voice hoarse. "Slow down a little, or I’ll come already. I don't want to yet. You need to teach me more."

Lando chuckled softly, a deep, throaty sound that sent a fresh wave of arousal through Oscar. "Alright, let's take it slow." He pulled his hand back slightly, easing the intensity. "While she's touching you like this, you can do things to drive her wild too. Try pulling her hair, kissing her neck, whispering in her ear."

Oscar nodded, his breath coming in short, heavy bursts. He reached up, his fingers tangling in Lando's hair, pulling gently. Lando's sharp intake of breath and the low moan that followed made Oscar's heart race.

"Good," Lando said, his voice rough. "That feels good, Oscar. Keep going."

Oscar's confidence grew with each response from Lando. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Lando's neck, kissing lightly. The feel of Lando's skin under his lips, the taste of salt and musk, was intoxicating. He nibbled gently, earning another moan from Lando.

"You’re doing great," Lando murmured, his own arousal evident. "Now, try whispering something in my ear. Tell me how good I make you feel."

Oscar's breath hitched as he moved closer to Lando's ear. "You make me feel incredible," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I've never felt like this before."

Lando's hand resumed its slow, deliberate movements on Oscar's hardness, drawing out the pleasure with expert precision. "And while you're doing that," Lando said, his voice a seductive purr, "keep touching me. Show me what you want."

Oscar's hand moved down Lando's body, trembling fingers finding the edge of Lando's shirt and slipping underneath, feeling the firm muscles of his abdomen. The sensation was dizzying, his own arousal mirrored in Lando's heavy breathing and darkened eyes.

"Lando," Oscar moaned, his hips bucking into Lando's hand again. "I need... I need more."

Lando's eyes gleamed with a mixture of lust and satisfaction. "Tell me what you need, Oscar. Don't hold back."

"I need you to touch me more," Oscar gasped, his control slipping further with each stroke of Lando's hand. "I need you to make me feel good."

Lando's hand moved with purpose now, each stroke precise and demanding, driving Oscar closer to the edge. Oscar's other hand found its way to Lando's jeans, mirroring Lando's earlier actions, feeling the hardness beneath and squeezing gently.

Lando's groan was deep and resonant, sending a fresh wave of desire through Oscar. "That's it," Lando encouraged, his voice thick. "Touch me like that. Show me what you want."

Oscar's movements became more confident, his hand working Lando's jeans open and slipping inside, finding the heated length of him. The feel of Lando in his hand, the sounds of his pleasure, pushed Oscar closer to the brink.

"Feels so good," Oscar murmured, his own voice raw with need. "You make me feel so good."

Lando's hand sped up, matching the rhythm of Oscar's strokes. The room was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing, the wet, slick sounds of their arousal. Oscar could feel the tension coiling in his stomach, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak.

"Lando, I..." Oscar's words were cut off by a moan as Lando's thumb brushed over the sensitive tip of his length, sending him spiraling.

"Let go," Lando whispered, his lips brushing Oscar's ear again. "Come for me, Oscar. I've got you."

With a final, shuddering cry, Oscar let himself go, the pleasure crashing over him in waves, his release spilling over Lando's hand. Lando's own release followed shortly after, his groan of pleasure mingling with Oscar's moans.

They collapsed against each other, their breathing heavy and uneven, the room filled with the aftermath of their shared pleasure.

"See?" Lando said softly, his hand gently stroking Oscar's back. "You just needed to loosen up a bit."

Oscar nodded, still trying to catch his breath. "Thank you," he said, his voice barely audible.

"Anytime," Lando replied, a smile in his voice. "Anytime."

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

The second time it happened was less than a week later. This time they were lounging together in Lando's hotel room, each a ps5 controller in hand, trying to beat each other in a game of Fifa.

Lando nudged Oscar with his own shoulder "Soooo.. Max mentioned that he saw you making out with a girl last night" he started, sending a cheeky wink his way "Have you tried to use your newly achieved skills?"

Oscar sighs. He did, he tried. Did it work? No. Was it because of the reason Lando expected it to fail? Also no. Was he gonna tell Lando to truth? Absolutely not.

"Yeah, I tried. But I froze" this part was true, he did freeze up the minute he was kissing the girl he met in the club, but not for the reason he expected "I just couldn't do it, you know"

Him failing to seduce the girl this time had nothing to do with the initial problem. It had to do with a certain boy with beautiful curls and captivating eyes. In all honesty, he couldn't stop thinking about Lando ever since he helped him out.

Oscar was conflicted with himself, confused about how he felt. He was at war with himself, trying to convince himself that he wasn't into Lando like that. He couldn't be and he shouldn't be. After all, Lando only helped him out to do him a favor, nothing more, nothing less.

Yet thinking about that curly haired boy was exactly why he failed to seduce the girl, or actually, why he pulled back and came up with a lame excuse as to why he had to go.

*flashback*

Oscar stood in the dimly lit club, the bass of the music thrumming through his body. The atmosphere was electric, filled with people dancing, drinking, and losing themselves in the night. He had decided that tonight he was going to put everything Lando had taught him into action. He had found a girl—blonde, beautiful, and more than willing to make out with him in a secluded corner. As they kissed, Oscar tried to remember all the tips Lando had given him: be confident, use lingering touches, whisper seductive words.

To anyone watching, it looked like Oscar was succeeding. His hands moved over her body with practiced ease, his lips tracing along her neck just as Lando had shown him. But inside, Oscar was a mess. Every touch, every kiss felt wrong. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lando. In his mind, it was Lando he was kissing, Lando he was trying to seduce. The girl’s hands were too soft, too feminine, and they did nothing to arouse him. He hated himself for wishing they were Lando’s hands, rougher and more familiar.

He tried to push the thoughts away, focusing on the girl in front of him. His hand tangled in her long blonde locks, a gesture that normally would have excited him. But tonight, it just felt empty. He couldn’t stop thinking about how it wasn’t Lando’s hair slipping through his fingers. Each moment felt like a betrayal, both to the girl and to himself.

They pulled away from the kiss, and Oscar felt a wave of guilt crash over him. Guilt for how he was feeling about Lando and guilt for leading this girl on. He looked into her eyes, trying to muster some genuine enthusiasm, but all he felt was confusion and regret.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private?” she asked, her voice hopeful and soft.

Oscar swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, his voice shaky. “I don’t want to do something I’m not sure about.”

The girl looked slightly disappointed, but her expression quickly softened. “It’s okay,” she said kindly. “I appreciate your honesty. More guys should be like you.”

Oscar forced a smile, relieved and yet more guilt-ridden. “It’s really not about you,” he said sincerely. “You’re beautiful, and you deserve to spend the night with someone who really wants it.”

She smiled warmly, her eyes full of understanding. “Thank you for saying that. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

A thought immediately made its appearance: I'm afraid I already did

With a polite nod, they went their separate ways. Oscar watched her disappear into the crowd, feeling the weight of his guilt settle deeper. He felt guilty for misleading her, and even more guilty for his feelings towards Lando. He shouldn’t feel this way. He couldn’t.

As he walked through the club, the sounds and sights fading into the background, Oscar couldn’t help but think about Lando. No matter how much he tried to deny it, he knew the truth. His feelings for Lando were more than just friendly admiration. And that realization terrified him.

*end of flashback*

"It honestly surprises me how one F1's biggest hotshots isn't able to get with a girl" he chuckled, while scoring a goal in Fifa against Oscar's team "I expected girls to just get on their knees for you without you even having to say a word"

Did he just call Oscar hot? He did, didn't he?

Oscar shrugged "I'm not even that attractive tho" he retorted, speaking in all honesty.

Lando rolled his eyes “Yeah right, and I'm six feet tall,” he objected, shaking his head. “Come on, Osc, look in the mirror. You're handsome as fuck. Don't be so insecure.”

Oscar sighed, trying to distract himself by focusing on the game he was playing. “Whatever,” he muttered, still not really believing what Lando said. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, you know? I just can’t do it.”

Lando paused the game and turned to face Oscar, his expression softening. “Maybe you just need more practice,” he suggested. “How about another session? I can show you exactly what I would do if you want.”

Oscar's heart skipped a beat. He barely nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Lando scooted closer, their knees touching. “Alright,” he began, his voice low and soothing. “First, let’s start with the basics.” He placed his hand on Oscar’s thigh, his touch lingering. “When you’re with a girl, it’s important to make her feel wanted. Touch her like this.” His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles on Oscar’s thigh.

Oscar’s breath hitched, his body responding to Lando’s touch in ways he hadn’t expected. Lando continued, his voice a seductive whisper. “Now, when you kiss her neck, don’t just peck. Use your tongue, but gently. Like this.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against Oscar’s neck before planting a soft kiss. “Most girls love it when you kiss their neck. It’s sensitive.”

Oscar shivered, his eyes fluttering shut. He tried to imagine he was with a girl, but all he could think about was Lando. “What else?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“Pull her hair, but gently,” Lando instructed, his hand sliding up to Oscar’s hair. He gave a gentle tug, eliciting a soft moan from Oscar. “See? It’s about being in control, but also being tender.”

Oscar’s mind was spinning. He was aroused, confused, and desperate for more. Lando’s touch was driving him wild. “Lando,” he breathed, “I… I can’t…”

Lando smiled softly, his hand reaching up to cup Oscar’s face with a tenderness that made Oscar’s breath hitch. “It’s okay,” Lando murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “You’re doing great.” He leaned in closer, their lips almost touching, the warmth of his breath mingling with Oscar’s. “When you’re ready to kiss her, make it count. The way you use your hands, the way you use your tongue… it can make a world of difference.” His eyes locked with Oscar’s, a glint of mischief and confidence in his gaze. “Can I show you what I mean?”

Oscar, heart racing, could barely manage a whisper. “Yes.”

Lando closed the distance, his lips brushing softly against Oscar’s in a kiss that was both gentle and teasing. The initial contact was light, just a whisper of sensation that sent shivers down Oscar’s spine. Lando’s lips moved with deliberate, slow caresses, exploring the contours of Oscar’s mouth with a finesse that was both sensual and instructive. He traced the shape of Oscar’s lips with his own, occasionally grazing them with the tip of his tongue, sending jolts of warmth and anticipation through Oscar’s body.

Lando’s hand slid behind Oscar’s neck, fingers splayed as he pulled him closer. The intimacy of the touch made Oscar feel like he was floating, his heart pounding so fiercely it felt almost painful. Lando’s tongue danced against Oscar’s in a languid, practiced rhythm, coaxing and teasing with an expert touch. It was a kiss that spoke of patience and precision, drawing out the nuances of every movement, every flutter of the tongue.

When Lando finally pulled back slightly, his lips still hovering near Oscar’s, he met his gaze with a playful glint. “See, the key is to start off gentle, to let the kiss build up. It helps you gauge how she responds, and it makes the moment feel more intense when you decide to deepen it.”

Oscar’s eyes were wide, his breath ragged from the previous kiss. “It felt… incredible.”

Lando’s smile widened as he leaned in again, this time with a more intense purpose. “But you can also kiss her like this.” His lips captured Oscar’s once more, but this time with a fervor that was anything but restrained. The kiss was fiery and unrelenting, every touch of Lando’s tongue bold and demanding. He explored the inside of Oscar’s mouth with an urgent passion, as if trying to consume him with the intensity of the moment.

Oscar’s response was immediate and visceral. He moaned softly into the kiss, the sound muffled but filled with a raw, breathless need. His hands tightened on Lando’s shoulders, his body pressing closer, overwhelmed by the sensation. The kiss was a whirlwind of heat and sensation that left Oscar gasping, his mind momentarily blank as he tried to keep up with the intoxicating rhythm.

When Lando finally pulled away, his eyes were dark with satisfaction. “That’s the kind of kiss that leaves a mark, something she’ll remember. It’s not just about technique—it’s about making her feel every bit of passion you’ve got.”

Oscar was breathless, his lips tingling and his chest rising and falling rapidly. The kiss had left him reeling, his emotions a tangled mess of excitement and confusion. He looked at Lando, still trying to process the overwhelming rush of feelings.

Lando chuckled softly, his thumb brushing across Oscar’s flushed cheek, his lips grazing Oscar’s as he spoke. “Touch me,” he instructed. “It makes it easier for me to show you how to praise a girl"

Oscar hesitated for a moment before his hands started to explore Lando’s body, sliding under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. “Your hands feel so good, Osc” he murmured, his voice trembling.

Lando's hand moved to palm Oscar through his jeans, causing him to gasp. “See how good that feels?” Lando whispered. “Tell her that you love the way she's responding to you. Tell her how much you like it.” He pressed his palm more firmly, eliciting a louder moan from Oscar.

“Lando… I need… I can’t…” Oscar stuttered, his body trembling with arousal, still trying to fight against the feelings he developed for his teammate.

Lando smiled, his hand continuing its slow, torturous movements. “You can, Osc. You’re doing amazing. Just let it happen.” He leaned in to kiss Oscar’s neck again, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “It’s all about making her feel desired, cherished.”

Oscar’s moans grew louder, his body arching into Lando’s touch. “Lando, please… I…”

“Do you want me to stop?” Lando asked, his voice husky.

“No, just… slow down a bit,” Oscar pleaded. “I don’t want to come in my pants like a fucking teenager”

Lando chuckled softly, his hand slowing its movements. “Alright, we can take our time.” He guided Oscar’s hand to his own crotch. “Touch me now, Oscar. Show me what you’ve learned.”

Oscar’s hand trembled as he began to touch Lando through his jeans. The sounds Lando made in response sent shivers down Oscar’s spine. “You’re doing great,” Lando praised, his voice breathless. “Tell her how much you want her.”

Oscar tried to form coherent sentences, but all that came out were stuttered words and moans. “You feel… so good, Lando. I want… I need…”

Lando took Oscar’s hands and gently slid them under the hem of his shirt, guiding them to his back. “Feel my back with your fingers, Osc,” he murmured, his voice a blend of encouragement and intimacy. “I love it when someone touches my back like that. It’s like a spark of connection, you know?” He paused, a hint of color rising to his cheeks as he realized his slip. With a sheepish grin, he added, “Uh, but yeah, you can definitely use the same touch on her too.”

Oscar’s fingers glided over Lando’s back, tracing the firm muscles beneath his shirt. As he explored, a smile spread across his face, touched by the unexpected intimacy of the moment. He couldn’t help but let out a soft, appreciative moan, both from the sensation and Lando’s accidental confession.

His eyes met Lando’s with a mix of gratitude and playfulness. “You know,” Oscar said, his voice warm and sincere, “you deserve to enjoy this as much as I do. After all, you’re the one helping me figure all this out.”

He continued his gentle exploration, his touch lingering as he enjoyed the closeness and the subtle shift in their dynamic. The connection between them felt deeper, a shared understanding making the moment all the more special.

Lando’s hand slipped into Oscar’s boxers, his touch deliberate and confident as he wrapped around him firmly. The sensation of Lando’s warm fingers gripping him sent shivers through Oscar’s body, heightening the intensity of his pleasure.

“You’re so vocal, Oscar,” Lando said, his voice a low purr of satisfaction. “That’s good. Girls love hearing how much they’re pleasing you.” He began to move his hand with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each stroke methodical and teasing. He varied the pressure, alternating between light caresses and firmer grips, making sure to focus on every sensitive area with precision "Do you like having my hands on you? Tell me how it feels, Osc"

Oscar’s breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, his body trembling with each calculated stroke. “Feels… amazing,” he managed to gasp out, his voice trembling. “So good…”

Lando’s other hand moved up to tangle gently in Oscar’s hair, his fingers brushing softly against his scalp as he pulled him closer. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice husky with admiration. “So responsive. It’s hot, Oscar.”

The praise and the careful, attentive touch only heightened Oscar’s sensations. His moans grew louder, each one escaping his lips in a desperate, breathless rush. Lando’s hand moved with a practiced rhythm, his strokes growing increasingly intense as he built Oscar closer to the edge. He varied the speed, sometimes dragging his fingers slowly and deliberately, and other times quickening the pace just enough to drive Oscar wild.

Oscar’s entire body was on fire, every nerve ending heightened by Lando’s touch. His hands gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white, as he struggled to hold onto his composure. The waves of pleasure were cresting higher, leaving him gasping for breath.

“Lando…” Oscar managed to whimper, his voice breaking with the overwhelming sensation. “I’m… I’m so close…”

Lando’s fingers tightened ever so slightly, his strokes becoming more focused and deliberate, drawing out the tension with a teasing, almost sadistic precision. “I know, baby. Almost, just a little longer,” Lando coaxed softly, the endearment slipping from his lips before he realized it.

Oscar’s head fell back, his moans escalating as he neared the peak. The build-up was relentless, every touch and caress pushing him closer until he was on the brink, unable to hold back any longer. “I-I can’t, Lan…”

“You can, Osc. I know you can,” Lando said firmly, his voice both encouraging and commanding. He continued his movements with a deliberate rhythm, his touch skillful and unwavering. The combination of gentle and intense strokes, along with the steady pressure of his hand, kept Oscar right on the edge of his climax.

Lando’s eyes were focused on Oscar, watching every shiver, every trembling gasp as he worked to drive him to the brink. He maintained a steady pace, every movement calculated to heighten the pleasure. “Feel it, Osc. You’re so close.”

Oscar’s body was taut with anticipation, each stroke and caress amplifying the intensity of his pleasure. His moans grew more urgent, more desperate, as he fought to hold on for just a little longer. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his body shaking uncontrollably.

Lando, feeling the culmination of their shared moment, pressed his lips fiercely against Oscar’s, capturing him in a heated, passionate kiss. The kiss was fervent and consuming, Lando’s tongue dancing with Oscar’s as he continued to stroke him.

Oscar’s moans vibrated against Lando’s lips, the overwhelming pleasure and the heat of the kiss combining into a heady mix. Lando’s kiss was insistent and greedy, a way of anchoring their shared experience in a moment of pure, unrestrained intimacy.

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, Oscar’s body convulsed in a powerful release, a shuddering climax that left him breathless and weak.

"F-fuck, Lando" he moaned as the waves of pleasure hit him, his moans were muffled but intense, his head falling back in ecstasy. His release spilling over Lando’s hand. He collapsed against Lando, panting and trembling, while Lando continued to stroke him gently, prolonging the lingering aftershocks of his orgasm.

Once Oscar had regained his senses, he looked at Lando with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. “Do you want me to help you out?” he asked, his voice still shaky.

Lando smiled, shaking his head. “I- Euh-" he stuttered a little, confident Lando norris, at loss for words "I-I already came,” he confessed, glancing down at the wet patch on his jeans. “You were so hot, I couldn’t hold back"

Oscar felt a strange sense of satisfaction and relief. He leaned in and kissed Lando softly, their lips lingering for a moment. “Fucking hell, that's so hot"

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

The third time it happened was during the race weekend in Miami. It started out innocent. The two of them texting the night before race day, before evolving into more after Lando claimed his maiden win.

*Flashback*

Oscar was laying in his hotel bed, his phone in his hands as he texted his teammate. Nerves pooling in his stomach, afraid to text Lando what he was planning on.

Oscar: I think I've figured out why I always fail to get a girl

Lando: 👀

Oscar: I think I might be into guys.

Lando: Well, I'm surprised you didn't figure that out sooner😂

Oscar: What's that supposed to mean?

Lando: Osc, you wouldn't have been able to get your dick up when I touched you, if you weren't into guys. Lando: And you most certainly wouldn't have spilled all over my hands, twice🤭

Oscar: Whoops🫠

Lando: Don't worry about it too much, Osc. There's nothing wrong with being into guys

Oscar: Don't get me wrong, I like girls, I really do. Oscar: But I think I prefer guys when it comes to one night stands🫣

Lando: Hey, that makes two of us then. Lando: Although I must admit that I prefer guys in general

*end of flashback*

Lando had done it; he’d actually won the race. The pride and elation surged through Oscar as he watched Lando on the top step of the podium, the victory sparkling in every corner of the grandstand. The sight of Lando, tears streaming down his face and a look of sheer relief, was a moment of pure emotion. Oscar’s heart swelled with pride and joy, mirroring Lando’s tears as he felt the victory was as much his as it was Lando’s.

After Lando had finished all his obligatory duties, Oscar awaited him in the driver’s room, sitting on the couch with barely contained anticipation.

The door finally opened, and Lando walked in, his racing suit hanging low on his waist, the fireproofs clinging to his body, drenched in champagne, his emotions visibly overwhelming him. He was surprised to see Oscar there, his gaze meeting Oscar's as he closed the door behind him. “Hi,” Lando murmured, the grin on his face as wide as it had been on the podium.

Oscar sprang from the couch and hurled himself into Lando’s arms, his voice a whisper of fervent pride as he buried his face in Lando’s neck. “I’m so proud of you, Lan,” he murmured, his hands wrapping around Lando’s waist, feeling the damp fabric of the fireproofs.

Lando smiled, pulling Oscar closer, his arms encircling him tightly. “I finally did it, Osc. I finally did it,” he whispered back, the joy in his voice palpable.

Oscar reluctantly pulled away from the embrace, his eyes filled with a mix of mischief and desire. He guided Lando backwards until his back hit the closed door, trapping him between the door and Oscar’s body. With a purposeful, suggestive look, Oscar lowered himself to his knees, his eyes sparkling with a cheeky grin. “Can I?” he asked, his hands sliding to the hem of Lando’s race suit that hung low on his hips. “I wanna make you feel good. You deserve it.”

Lando’s eyebrows shot up, a mix of surprise and curiosity crossing his face. “Is this because you figured out you're into guys? Do you want me to teach you how to give a blowjob, just in case you need it in the club next time?” His voice held a small pang of hurt, a hint of insecurity clouding his expression.

Oscar looked confused for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

Lando explained, “I realized we only focused on how to please a girl last time, so I assumed you wanted to do this for that reason.”

Oscar stood up, cupping Lando’s cheeks with a sincere gaze. “Lan, can we please stop pretending that us being intimate is just about teaching me how to seduce someone else? We both know it stopped serving that purpose the moment you made me cum for the first time.” He rested his forehead against Lando’s, his voice soft but firm. “I don’t want you to teach me how to please someone else. I want you to teach me how to please you.”

Lando, his heart pounding, grabbed Oscar by the collar of his fireproofs and pulled him into a searing kiss. The kiss was intense, a wild torrent of emotions and need that surged between them. Lando’s lips crashed against Oscar’s with a fervor that spoke of their shared passion and connection. Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies, exploring and grasping, the heat between them building rapidly.

Oscar’s hands slid up Lando’s chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath the damp fireproofs. He pulled Lando’s suit down around his ankles, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring the anticipation and the intimate closeness. As he looked up at Lando, his voice was a hushed plea. “Please, let me make you feel good.”

Oscar, his hands steady but his heart racing, looked up at Lando with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Can you guide me? Tell me what you like and how to do it right? I've never done this before”

Lando’s eyes softened with affection, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Of course,” he replied, his voice husky with desire. “I’d love nothing more.” His hand gently cupped the back of Oscar’s head, guiding him with a tender touch.

Oscar’s hands continued their slow exploration, his fingers brushing against Lando’s exposed skin. Lando’s breathing quickened as Oscar’s lips made contact with him, the initial touch gentle and exploratory.

“Start slow,” Lando instructed softly, his voice a blend of encouragement and need. “Use your lips to explore first. Pay attention to how I respond. Feel what makes me shiver or moan.”

Oscar nodded, taking his time to follow Lando’s guidance. His lips brushed softly against Lando's thigh, his kisses light and teasing. Each touch was deliberate, a tender exploration that drew a soft gasp from Lando. He then slowly to the head of Lando's erection between his lip, the gentle pressure of Oscar’s mouth was met with a deep, approving sigh from Lando.

As Oscar continued, his confidence grew with every positive reaction from Lando. He varied his technique, experimenting with different pressures and movements. “You’re doing so well,” Lando murmured, his voice thick with appreciation. “Just like that… so good…”

Oscar’s nerves began to melt away under the weight of Lando’s praise. He took in every word, using it to guide his actions. Lando’s breath became ragged, his hands gripping Oscar’s shoulders gently but firmly as he guided him through the rhythm.

“Try using your tongue more,” Lando suggested, his voice strained with pleasure. “Circle it slowly, and then flick it lightly. I'll love how that feels” He demonstrated with his own movements, showing Oscar how to add variety and depth to the experience.

Oscar followed Lando’s instructions with dedication, his tongue tracing delicate patterns that elicited more shivers and moans. Each new technique he tried was met with further encouragement from Lando. “That’s perfect,” Lando gasped, his voice breaking slightly. “Just like that… keep going…”

The intensity of the moment built gradually, with Lando’s reactions guiding Oscar’s pace. The pleasure between them was palpable, a growing heat that enveloped them both. Oscar’s arousal grew alongside Lando’s, each stroke and touch fueling his desire to give Lando the best experience possible.

At one point, Oscar pulled back slightly, his breath warm against Lando’s skin. “You taste incredible,” he said, his voice hushed with awe and desire. The admission was honest and heartfelt.

Lando’s eyes widened in surprise, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “You can’t say things like that,” he murmured, his breath hitching with the intensity of his arousal. “Unless you want me to cum right here and now.”

Oscar’s determination only intensified with Lando’s comment. He leaned in closer, his mouth working with renewed vigor. The prospect of making Lando lose control spurred him on, his movements becoming more confident and focused.

The build-up continued, each touch and every movement Oscar made with his tongue driving Lando closer to the edge. Oscar’s dedication was unwavering, his hands and mouth working in harmony with Lando’s guidance. The room was filled with the sounds of their shared pleasure, Lando’s moans growing louder and more urgent.

As Lando neared his climax, he tried to gently pull Oscar away, his voice breathless and strained. “Osc, I’m close… You don’t have to…”

Oscar, however, was undeterred. He pressed on, his determination only growing stronger. “No, I want this,” he said, his voice filled with fervent desire. “I want you right here"

Lando, overwhelmed by the sensation and Oscar’s unwavering resolve, finally reached his peak. His body tensed and shuddered as he came, the intensity of the moment making his breath come in ragged gasps. Oscar continued to pleasure him, working Lando all the way through his orgasm.

Afterward, Oscar rose from his knees, his face flushed with both exertion and satisfaction. He captured Lando’s lips in a searing, passionate kiss, the taste of Lando mingling with his own excitement. Their kiss was a fiery connection, filled with all the love and desire that had built up between them.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other’s, both panting heavily. Lando’s eyes were filled with a mix of adoration and vulnerability. “God, I’m so in love with you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Oscar’s smile was radiant, his eyes glistening with affection. “I’m in love with you too, Lan.”

Their words hung in the air, a testament to the depth of their feelings and the intense connection they had just shared.

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

[princesscait26]

An Unlikely Friendship

Summary: Who knew marriage came with a side of rivalry?

Alastor x Reader, Vox x No named wife, Reader x Vox’s wife platonic!

Part 2

In the confines of Alastor's radio tower, Y/n, his wife, lounges on the plush couch, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation as Alastor engages in his usual broadcasted, banter with the TV demon. With each witty comeback from Alastor, she rolls her eyes, familiar with the routine of their sparring.

As Alastor concludes his broadcast with his trademark sign-off, Y/n rises from the couch, her steps deliberate as she approaches him. With a hint of irritation, she exhales audibly before speaking, her voice tinged with sarcasm, "When are you two going to cease this endless bickering? It's like dealing with children."

Alastor, ever the charmer, feigns offense, his laughter echoing in the room. "My dear, you wound me with your accusations. I assure you, I am the epitome of civility. Once Vox comes to realize the error of his ways, our little disagreements will be a thing of the past," he responds with a disarming smile, his innocence clearly feigned.

———————————————————————

In the heart of the city, within the confines of Vox's office, his wife occupies the chair beside him, her demeanor a mixture of frustration and resignation as Vox's irritation mounts in tandem with each of Alastor's lightning-fast comebacks. With a weary sigh, she rests her head in her hand, her exasperation palpable as the verbal sparring between Vox and Alastor continues.

As the television screen abruptly flickers, losing signal, Vox releases a defeated sigh, the weight of yet another round lost evident in his slumped posture. Sensing his defeat, his wife rises from her seat, moving to console him. She envelops him in a comforting embrace, her arms encircling his neck from behind as she leans in, her voice laced with both affection and frustration, "When will you two finally put an end to this childish fighting?"

Vox swivels in his chair, his movements sharp and agitated, causing his wife to step back crossing her arms. His gaze darkens with annoyance as he retorts, his tone laced with venom, "This isn't merely bickering, my dear. We are rivals. I despise him, and he will soon realize that I am the epitome of power. That radio of his will be nothing more than a relic once I'm through." With a disappointed shake of her head, Vox's wife exits his office, leaving him to stew in his frustration and determination to best his rival, Alastor.

—————————————————————

Seated in the cozy ambiance of a charming café, Vox's wife's laughter rings out melodiously, punctuating the air as she cradles an iced coffee in her hand. Opposite her, Alastor's wife, Y/n, joins in the laughter, her own amusement evident as she delicately sips on a cup of tea.

"I can't believe this feud is still going after all this time," Vox's wife exclaims between giggles, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Y/n nods in agreement, her laughter bubbling forth, "Tell me about it. Sometimes I feel like I signed up for a lifetime of babysitting rather than marriage." She punctuates her remark with an exaggerated eye roll, a smile playing on her lips.

Bonded by the shared antics and bickering of their spouses', Y/n and Vox's wife have forged a strong friendship. The two women share a knowing glance, as they exchange amused looks. It's an understanding between them, the necessity of meeting in secret. If Vox and Alastor were to discover the depth of their friendship, the consequences could be unpredictable, even chaotic.

Their laughter echoes in the cozy café, mingling with the soft clinking of cups and saucers. Y/n and Vox's wife revel in the absurdity of their situation, finding humor in the thought of their husbands' potential reactions to their clandestine meetings. Their bond forged in the secrecy of their friendship and the shared understanding of their husbands' unpredictable antics.

————————————————————————

Short story: (Should I make a part 2?) I was at war writing this as a double y/n story so you could choose who to be married to but I feared it would become too confusing.🫤

[goldfades]

"it's 2am. you can't keep coming over this late." / "why? you're never asleep either." with luke! 🌱 ty

𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 | lh⁴³

♡ ─ word count | 873

♡ ─ warnings | luke not feeling like he's good enough, y/n cheers him up

♡ ─ ev's notes | i hope y'all enjoyed!

You heard a soft knock on your dorm room door, prompting a quiet sigh to escape your lips. Setting aside your textbook, you rose from your chair and made your way to the door, its hinges creaking softly as you opened it. The sight of a tall, curly-haired figure standing outside didn't surprise you.

"Luke? It's 2 am. You can't keep coming over this late," you remarked with a hint of exasperation.

Luke merely shrugged in response. "Why not? You're never asleep either."

You crossed your arms, shooting Luke a disapproving look. "That doesn't mean anything," you replied, glancing at the dimly lit hallway to make sure no one else was disturbed by the noise.

Luke leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on his face. "Come on, I brought snacks," he said, holding up your favorite chips and soda.

Despite your initial annoyance, you couldn't resist a small smile. "You're lucky I'm hungry." You muttered, stepping aside to let him in. As he entered, you couldn't help but notice the tired look in his eyes.

"What's going on?" You asked, closing the door behind him.

Luke flopped down onto your roommate's unoccupied bed, letting out a sigh. "Couldn't sleep. Thought we could hang out for a bit," he admitted, popping open a soda can.

You sighed, realizing that something was bothering him. "Alright, what's up, Luke? What's on your mind?" you asked, taking a seat across from him.

Luke hesitated as he looked up to meet your gaze. He sighed and shook his head, he couldn't hide anything from you no matter how hard he tried.

"I just..." He started, not knowing exactly where to begin. "Everything is happening too quickly. I feel I just started at Michigan and now everyone's sayin' I'm going to New Jersey, that my future's so bright but... I don't know." He shrugged again, nervously bouncing his leg against the bed.

You leaned forward, your expression softening with empathy. "It's a big step, Luke," you said gently, "Leaving behind what's familiar and stepping into something new can be scary."

His restless leg slowed as he listened, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "Yeah, exactly," he replied, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's what I've been working towards, but... it's just hitting me all at once, you know?"

You nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. "I know but everyone knows you're gonna do great, you're already the star of Michigan, you're gonna the star on the Devils, too."

Luke stayed quiet for a moment before letting out a sigh. "What if I'm not?" His voice was quiet as he spoke, he sounded so vulnerable. "Everyone thinks I'm gonna do great things, just like Jack and Quinn but what if I can't? What if I'm not as good as them? What if it all goes downhill after this?"

Taking a moment to choose your words carefully, you reached out to gently place a hand on his. "Luke, listen to me," you began, your voice steady and reassuring. "You are not your brothers, and you don't need to be. You're your own person, with your own talents and strengths."

Luke's gaze remained fixed on the floor, his thoughts seemingly trapped in a whirlwind of anxiety. "But what if I'm not good enough?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your grip on his hand tightened slightly, your reassurance unwavering. "You are more than good enough, Luke. What if it all doesn't go downhill? What if this is the start of something great, Luke? You're great at hockey and everyone knows that, that's never gonna disappear."

Luke's eyes slowly lifted to meet yours, a hint of vulnerability still lingering in his gaze. As you continued to hold his hand, you spoke with determination.

"You've worked endlessly to get to where you are, and that's not by accident," you said, your words carrying a sense of belief. "You've earned every opportunity because of your skill and passion for the game."

He took in your words, and a subtle shift occurred in his expression. "What if I disappoint everyone?" Luke questioned, his doubt still present.

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You won't, Luke. You've got a support system that believes in you, not just because of your last name but because of who you are. And if there are tough times, we'll face them together, okay?"

Luke's lips curved into a small smile as he gazed at you, your heart flipping as he looked at you like you were the best thing in the entire world.

"Okay," Luke replied, his smile growing more genuine.

Encouraged by his response, you leaned back, your hands now resting on your own lap. "Look, no one expects you to have it all figured out," you continued. "What matters is that you're taking steps forward, and we're all here for each other through it all."

The tension in Luke's shoulders seemed to ease further, and he nodded in agreement. "I'm lucky to have you around, you know?" he admitted, his voice sincere.

"Yeah, you are." You said in a joking manner, causing a quiet chuckle to come out of Luke's mouth. "Now, do you wanna watch some movies?"

"Yeah, let's do it."

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[ragingbookdragon]

All Work And No Play Makes Dull Boys

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: 1.1K Warnings: Suggestive Themes

Author's Note: Guess who's back with an actual fic? Fantastic render by @ave661 Go check her out! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

If there’s one thing Simon “Ghost” Riley knows about Spades, it’s that she, in all her infinite glory, never spares any expense when it comes to how she looks, and what her gear is. And the same has begun to occur for the 141 as well. It started small, bits and pieces rearranged, a few new knives and sidearms to try out, then it went to bigger things, new rifles and shotguns, and then it hit the gear. At random moments, Spades had pulled each man of the 141 into her room and stripped them down to their tighty-whities before she measured each inch of them��Soap and Gaz had gone willingly, it took Price a few days to convince, and Ghost? Ghost didn’t step foot in her room or anywhere near her when he learned what she was doing—no need though, she already had what she needed from him.

***

It’s a late evening in October when she comes to his door. She doesn’t bother knocking, never does, and unlocks it with a key she had made (he has no idea when and how she did it), stepping into his room. He looks up from the mission brief he’s been reading while laying on his bed, an unimpressed, almost annoyed look in his eyes as he glares at her.

“Don’t look so happy to see me, Simon,” she says with a sickly-sweet tone. “Someone might accuse you of actually liking me.”

“Out.” Is all he says.

She tuts and beckons him with a finger. “Come.”

They stare at each other for a solid minute before he exhales through his nose, annoyed and exasperated, and rolls off the bed; he stretches and rolls his shoulders before following her down the hall into her room.

“I’m not getting measured,” he says as he closes the door behind them.

“As if I don’t already have your measurements, Simon Riley,” she retorts and now he’s a bit unnerved because he’s never given her time to measure him, so how did she already have them? She doesn’t answer his silent question, merely walks to her room divider, and rolls out a fancy looking set of black gear. “I give to you, ‘The Gilded Reaper.’” She announces with a note of pride in her tone and a helluva lot of it in her expression.

He takes one look at it. “I am not wearing that.”

“YOU HAVEN’T EVEN TRIED IT ON!” Spades yells and thrusts her hand to it. “I spent a lot of time and money on this, and you are going to try it on for me whether you like it or not.”

“Am I?” he dares and it’s obvious he’s going to go for the door as she points at him.

“If you make me chase you down and drag you back here, I’m going to make you regret it entirely, do you understand me, Simon Riley?”

He’s almost tempted to do it just to see her follow suit with her threat; he glares her down before he lets out a long breath. “Fine.”

Spades smiles and chirps, “Thank you.” Simon dips behind the divider, tugging the mannequin with him and she rolls her eyes. “It’s as if you think I haven’t seen anything you have before.”

“It’s called ‘common decency,’” he retorts. “Maybe you should look it up.” She throws one of her shoes over the divider at the tuft of blond hair she can see. “That hurt.”

“I meant it. Now hurry up, I want to see it.”

It’s another few moments before he steps outside the divider, and she stares wide-eyed as he does.

“Well?” he asks, and he really means, “This is so fucking stupid.”

Spades takes her time walking in circles around him, pulling at belts, at the straps, checking if everything is fitting well enough before she stops in front of him, staring up into his golden mask.

“I like it,” she notes, and her voice lowers an octave, a tell-tale sign that she’s being honest; she only ever does it with him. “I think it’s you.”

“It’s ostentatious,” he deadpans.

“Careful, that’s a big word for a caveman’s brain.”

He rolls his eyes, not taking the bait of the insult. “I can’t wear this out on missions. It’s practically a neon sign that says, ‘Hey, shoot me!’”

Spades reaches up and strokes the gold mask. “Who said it was missions?”

Simon freezes up, body still as he gazes at her, and Spades looks awfully innocent as she dips her fingers below his golden mask, feeling his masked face beneath. It’s not often that Spades can render Simon completely silent, the two practically have a raging desire to be each other’s constant pissing match that there’s always something to say, and yet, he’s still quiet as she pulls her hands away and twirls around him to his back. Her hands slide up his sides beneath the cape, feeling firm muscle beneath.

“I made this just for us, Simon,” she coos, hands slipping down to his belt where she tugs it. “I was thinking we could take a trip to the mountains where I have that cabin and we could…play.”

“You mean hunt each other,” he breathes, and it’s low and heavy, she knows exactly what he really wants to say.

“All work and no play makes such dull boys,” Spades muses. “We’ve spent so much time working, Simon, we’re awfully dull, don’t you think?”

He lets out a low noise from his throat, a warning that should send bells off in her head, but all it does is urge her on, a grin worming its way onto her lips.

“Please, Simon,” she begs and lifts a leg on the outside of his hip, her thigh just beside his hand. “It would be so much fun.”

His head tips to the side, hand grasping her knee in an iron-clad grip and he spins them; Spades is back up against the wall in a flash and she gives him a flash of white teeth in a smile as he takes her jaw in a firm hand, tilting it up to get a good look at her. “We haven’t played hunt in a while. What makes you think you’ll win this time?” he challenges.

It’s true, Simon often wins their games of hunt, but it’s only because Spades gets tired of waiting and lets herself be hunted down. “Call it a feeling,” she replies, tugging at his center belt. “Should I give you the coordinates for our game, Ghost?”

He leans forward, close enough that she can feel the warmth radiating off of him and he remarks, “I’ll get ‘em on my own.”

As he pulls away, she watches as he turns and stalks for the door, only stopping when her voice reaches him in a provoking, “May the best hunter win.”

[suiana]

IDK WHY I LAUGH WHENEVER I SEE A YANDERE FARMER X READER FIC CUZ WHAT R THEY GONNA DO 😭? CRUSH U WITH A WHOLE WHEEL OF CHEESE OR CHOP UR BODY INTO PIECES AND PUT IT IN A COMPOSTER TO MAKE UR BODY A FERTILIZER BC U TALKED TO SOME1😭🙏🙏???

And the way i thought of stardew valley when i saw the word farmer😋

🫦🫦🫦

(yandere! farmer x gn! reader)

"no. i reject your cheese. please take it back with you."

"b-but why? you accepted all my other ones... do you not like me anymore? are we breaking up?"

"babe. i have 10 wheels of cheese."

he stares at you, eyes all watery as he holds the basket containing a wheel of cheese in front of him. you merely stare back at him, refusing to accept the cheese again.

yes, you were dating a farmer. and yes, he loved giving you cheese. a little too much cheese.

"so? ten wheels is nothing... my family could finish it in a month-"

"baby, i am one person. a single person eating ten wheels of cheese."

you deadpan, staring at him with the most exasperated expression you could muster before sighing as he starts sniffling. tears well up in his eyes, his expression growing depressed as his hands clutch the handles of the basket tightly.

god damn it, he was such a crybaby. always overthinking your words and actions.

"s-so we're breaking up? you don't like me anymore is that it? i knew you always liked that cowboy more! what, is he more attractive to you? you want to date him instead of me? i should've gotten rid of him last sunday during the party and-"

"no, we're not breaking up. jesus, i just don't need so many cheese wheels."

"then what do i give you? i-i... it's customary to give your loved ones cheese wheels-"

he stammers, rambling on and on about something something customs and other things you don't understand. wait, did he also threaten to kill the cowboy? you watch as he collapses to his knees, sobbing into the fabric of your pants. however, you only stare at him, not at all moving before you grumble and relent.

"ugh. fine. I'll take your damn cheese. just stop crying."

"really? ah, i knew you still love me!"

he brightens up immediately, now smiling like a dog as you roll your eyes and take the basket of cheese from him.

god damn it. now you have 11 wheels of cheese in your house.