#i been lifting my whole damn life

[ask-alf-oddworld]

So dont tell him, but I think that Alf fella doesnt realize how prissy and fru fru runnin' a little tea house makes him look. Talk about clueless! Between you n me, he could stand to lift some weights.

[hoshigray]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫! | fushiguro tōji

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Not only are you drunk on a Friday night, but you’re a drunk, closeted succubus who is, unfortunately, under the care of the hot neighbor under your roof! Would you ruin the mood if he found out about your little secret? You don’t even wanna know!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab/fem! succubus reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! reader + Toji are neighbors - age difference; reader is in late-20s + Toji is mid/late 40s - crushing/mutual pining - drug/alcohol usage - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping) - Daddy kink - sqǔitïng - anal play (m! receiving) - 69 + backshots + spooning + cowgirl positions - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - creampies - praise kink - pet names (baby, doll, dollface, good girl, mama, princess, sweetie) - implied marathon sex - mention of drool/spit, tears, and cum - not proofread; will do l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.8k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: pulled this story out of my ass; I literally spent a whole single DAY dedicating to writing it. please enjoy, and tysm for 11.9k loveliesss ☆ love and appreciate u all !!

“��shit.”

There’s no way.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

Of all days for this to happen.

“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”

Tonight was already an eventful night, with the full moon shining brighter than the stars. Life has put you so fast in a whirlwind that you can’t recall the last time you permitted your body to unwind. Can you blame yourself, though? From moving to a new neighborhood and scoring a new job, things have kept you undeniably busy for the past few months. And not too mention,  it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit and lacking a drive for social interaction. 

That’s precisely why your old college besties – Shoko, Utahime, and Yuki – pulled you out of your hideyhole and encouraged you to join them this Friday night to have some fun! “C’mo~n, lighten up! No more thinking about work or whatever; have some fun!” “Yeah, y’know you’re my biggest drinking buddy. Now, hurry up and share this cocktail with me!” The ladies pressure you to relax and enjoy the start of the weekend with some good drinks and delicious food. And, you hate to admit, it worked like a charm – the longer the hours went, the more you felt free as if all the weight holding you down had been lifted.

The only problem is, like all good things, that it had to end and that you had to go home. Now check this out: 1) you left your car at home because, again, you were rigorously dragged out of your abode by your college companions. 2) You were all pretty much drunk, enough for neither one of you to drive on the road. And 3) you guys are in the city, and catching a lift is not only a gamble but SUPER expensive! Guess that’s what you get for choosing a Friday night to free-ball.

However, when hope was lost, and you wouldn’t be in the comfort of your bed tonight, you received a text on your phone, and you could practically hear the angels sing in the heavens above!

Recent Message from: Neighbor Fushiguro

Yo. You home? I’m out in the city picking up stuff for the house. Need anything?

Thank God for neighbors, am I right? The chances of someone you know being within the same vicinity of you may be low, but never zero! Did you feel bad that you texted back saying you needed a ride back to your house? Sure. Did you feel extra bad when you asked a huge favor for him to drop your friends off at the nearest hotel? …Yeah. 

But luckily, he didn’t seem to mind. The only thing you had to endure was him teasing you about your little outing (with the help of your friends in the back of his truck) and your tipsy persona. “Never took you fr’ one who drinks.” He scoffs while putting you down on your couch after slinging you over his shoulder because you complained about your feet hurting. Damn heels! “Neither one who gets drunk.”

“It wasn’t my fauuu~lt,” you whine with a significant stretch while your neighbor roams around. “My fwiends, they forced me to–hic–to do it…”

“Mm, do your ‘fwiends’ always push you over to do things?” He shouts from the kitchen; you can hear cabinets opening and closing. 

“When you’re the youngest of the group, they do.”

“Well, maybe I gotta get to know ‘em so they can push you into goin’ out more. And maybe you can quit avoidin’ me when I invite you over.”

“I don’t try to avoid you!” You sprout defensively. “And quit teasing me, Toji! You’re supposed’ta be on my side; I’m the victim here.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever ya say.” Heavy footsteps draw nearer to where you are, and your heavy eyelids open to see a hand stretching towards you with a glass of water. “I’m here takin’ care of ya now, aren’t I, lil’ victim?”

A smile pulls your lips as you take the glass. “Thank you,” you express before a sip, and your neighbor lifts your feet to sit on the cushion beside you. 

“Y’re welcome,” he places your legs on his lap, grabbing the remote to turn on the television. 

You haven’t been in this neighborhood long enough to say you have friends. Don’t get it wrong; everyone you contacted has been lovely and friendly, and some have opted to help with your move! But aside from the casual greetings in the morning or the nods of acknowledgment, you barely know people who scratch the surface of acquaintanceship. Not to mention, it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit. 

…But, there is one neighbor you could say you’re pretty close with. Someone nice. Someone dependable…Someone attractive that you’re on a mission not to stare too much.

Toji Fushiguro lives two houses down from you across the street. Remember I mentioned you had people assist with your move? This widowed, middle-aged man was one of the nice handymen who aided you and your friends with your boxes and heavy furniture. You remember it like yesterday, seeing this brawny man stroll up your driveway on the sunniest day of June. You nearly mistook him for an Olympic athlete. 

“So, y’re the one movin’ ‘round here?” The calm baritone of his voice was unforced. “Nice to know there’s a cute face on the newbie. Need any help?” It’s how he asked – so sultry and alluring you almost spaced out before nodding absentmindedly to his request for aid, hoping he didn’t notice you watch how the scar of his lip moved as he spoke. “Welcome to the neighb’rhood, kid.” Rarely do you have butterflies running amok in the pits of your guts, but they were challenging to deal with that day. 

And it doesn’t get any better from that day forward. No matter how hard you wished not to run into this immediate crush of yours, he would somehow wheedle his way into your path. It started slow, exchanging hellos or good mornings whenever he left for work or you took the garbage out. Then came the “Want me to do y’r lawn fr’ ya?” or the “House down the street’s havin’ a little barbecue, wanna get to know people?” You thought moving away from the busy city life would die things down. However, Toji making your head race every chance he gets wasn’t a move you could envisage. Think about how you felt the day he asked for your number to keep in contact “fr’ emergencies…or if ya need anythin’, shoot me a call,” how your heart jumped to your throat! Oh, the girls never stopped teasing you when you told…

Nonetheless, you can’t deny how much help he’s been. Well, outside of that, just being a great neighbor all around. Besides being an absolute succor, he’s an outlet you can come to for anything. Whether for the house, the community, or just personal conversations, Toji’s someone you can admitlingly say you’d depend on. With trust built from day one, sharing pieces of yourselves to break down barriers, it’s safe to say that he is undoubtedly a friend who made your decision to move a worthy risk.

…Yet, what’s even more risky is being alone with him, something you do everything you can to avoid. Why? Look at him! Would you trust yourself to be anywhere with this man alone? Of course not! This is why tonight is the riskiest night you’ve ever bestowed upon your drunk self.

“You got somthin’ to say?”

“Huh?” You perk to reality, anxiousness filling you once you realize you had been staring at the man. “N-No, I’m sorry.”

He stifles a snort, grabbing your feet to massage them from the pain. “Oh, wanna act quiet. You were all bubbly in the passenger seat with y’re friends. Now y’re all shy because y’re stuck with me, huh?”

“T-That’s not true!” A lie; he was right on the mark. Your heart has been beating nonstop once he sat next to you. “It’s just that…I’m sorry for making you drive and pick me and the girls up.”

“Nah, don’t apologize,” his focus is on your feet as he kneads and rubs the sole of your foot. “Told ya I was around the area doing some shoppin’, so pickin’ ya up on my way back was easy.”

You take another sip of your water. “Shopping?” 

“Mm, my kids are down here for the weekend, so I had to go out fr’ a bit and grab shit fr’ my daughter.” Ah, yes, Toji is a father; you remember him telling you about his two children in college, a junior and a sophomore. “They’re at the house right now; saw ‘em after I dropped stuff at the house before bringin’ ya home.” 

You hum. “Sorry for stealin’ you from them for a bit.”

He shakes his head with a humorless laugh. “Please, they probably don’t even know I’m gone. They’re big kids. Plus,” your breath hitches when emerald eyes trail to you. “Now I get to finally have you all to myself, no curvin’ me and whatever this time.” 

“I’m not tryin’ to curve…”

“Yeah, yeah.” He goes back to massaging your feet.

“…Thanks again, Toji. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, sweetheart.” Your abdomen flexes at the use of the nickname. “You know I always got you…Say, did you hit y’r head somewhere?”

You blink, eyebrows furrow. “No? Why?”

He points to his temple. “Because I see like a lump right here.”

You mirror his movements, your hand touching the spot he’s pointing. And your fingertips meet with a lump on a location that sparks too much familiarity. You gasp aloud and cover the lump with your hand, the other covering your other temple. 

Oh, no.

Black eyebrows knit together. “You okay?”

Play it cool! “Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m fine! You’re right; I probably hit my head somewhere while out.” You take this time to remove your legs off the comfort of Toji’s lap and stand up from the couch. “I’ll put something on it to stop the swelling.” You can also sense something aching down your lower back at that moment. Oh, hell no!!

“Ya sure? Need me fr’ any—“ 

BZZZZ!! BZZZZ!!

Toji’s cut off from the vibration of his phone in his jeans, pulling the device out to see that someone called “Megumi” was calling. Good, a distraction!

“N–No, no, I’m good from here.” You say through gritted teeth, the alcohol taking effect and making your stance a little buzzy to uphold. “J-Just stay here, I’ll be back!” You don’t even wait for his approval, turning on your heel and heading out of the living room to the stairs. Your body feels wobbly with every step you take, but you don’t pay it any mind because you can feel the lumps beneath your palms increasing. “God, please, not now, not today…!”

You march as fast as you can to your bedroom, nearly stumbling on the floor as you haul ass to your bathroom door. You do a terrible job watching your footing fall after rushing to turn the lights on, and stuff from the counter falls because of the impact. But you didn’t care, shuffling up so you could look at the mirror. And the sight you see fills you with immediate dread.

Horns are the first thing you see from either side of your head; the tips curl as if to form a crown but point to the ceiling. Your eyes are no longer human-like, pupils shaped like slits as if morphing into a reptile. And your ears get horizontally pointier.  “…shit.”

You then lift your skirt and tear a hole in your pantyhose above the hem of your panties, and your fear quadruples at the sight of something long and slithery protruding out of the hole. A long tail with a pointy end; you lose your mind. “Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

It’s then you realize why this is happening: you had forgotten to take your daily supplements that are meant to subjugate these features of yourself. You’ve been taking them for the longest time before you moved into this neighborhood, so you’re used to your typical human facade. Now, seeing these parts of yourselves is the very LAST thing you need right now! 

And then something hits you, an unsettling feeling that you’re too scared to confirm. Your eyes travel down to your shirt, your hands hesitantly pulling the bottom tucked into your skirt and lifting to reveal your navel. You then tug the top of your skirt to expose a spot you’re honed in on the mirror. And the urge to scream grows tenfold once you see a black marking on the lower part of your belly. 

A womb tattoo!?!? 

“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”

“YO, HEY!” And just when it couldn’t get worse, you hear Toji coming up the stairs and beelining for your open bedroom door. Wait, no— “I heard screamin’ and a big ‘boom,’ you alright? Where are y—“

Your neighbor stops dead in his tracks once he appears in front of the bathroom opening; his concerned expression shifts to an immediate neutral deadpan. He stares at you, and you stare back at him, the silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. A ring fills your eardrums, dissociating from this entire scene and all its complications.

You want to cry. Maybe scream, throw up, or just straight up die on the spot. 

Because this wasn’t the night for someone to find out you’re a succubus.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…”

“…”

“…So, what are you?” 

Not even concealing your face in your pillow can hide you from the eventual questions of Toji, who sits idly on the corner of your bed. You cringe internally, never thinking this dilemma would befall you. The point of moving was to turn a new page in your life and leave the past behind with the city. Now, you are shriveling on top of your bed like a moody teenager, and your neighborhood crush is here to witness your depression.

“…What happened to your phone call?”

“It was my kid. I told him to lock the door since I’ll be out a little longer. Don’t try and deflect,” his blunt answer has you descend further to your inner turmoil. “How come I never seen these horns before?”

You sigh heavily; there’s no point in trying to divert now. “…I take supplements that hinder any features of my succubus appearance so I can look like an average human for the rest of the day.”

“Daily?” He sees you nod through his peripheral. “Succubus…the hell’s that?”

“Basically, I’m a demon that…that…” Yeah, no, let’s not finish that. “Never mind.”

“Bullshit. Tell me.” 

“D-Don’t worry about it, it’s not—“

“Look here,” he speaks to you with a stern tone, a hand coming to your waist to shove you a bit. “I went ahead and picked y’re drunk butt up, made sure ya don’t puke up a storm, and now y’re here looking way different from before. The least you could do is explain.”

God, to be lectured by a human – totally humiliating…! “…I’m a demon that gets energy from…se–….sexu, uhh………..sexualactivitywithhumanbeings.”

The silence that trails after your ramble is beyond awkward. 

“Oh.”

…

“Oh.”

God, just kill me right now!

The older man forces a cough. “So, you…have sex every day?” You can practically sense the tiny hint of discomfort from prompting that question.

“W-Well, I used to when I was younger. But I haven’t really…done it in a couple of years.” Jesus Christ, why is it so embarrassing to admit to someone other than yourself? This is the literal worst! 

“Is that bad?”

“It’s, uhh…It can be?” 

“So, why haven’t you done it?”

“Because…!” You snap your face out of your pillow and finally allow yourself to breathe correctly. “I just…I don’t have time like I used to anymore, and using my powers to make people forget afterward can get tiring. Also, the more times I do it, the more my drive gets intense from the last. The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”

“…Well,” Toji turns to face you. “Have you ever had the urge recently?”

“I-” Woah. That question came out of nowhere, almost answering it without proper consideration. “Wh–What do you mean by that…”

He shrugs. “Like—you know what I mean—like, even though you try to suppress it, do you still have those urges to do…ya know, it?”

Things get a little uncomfortable here; now you wish you kept your face in that pillow. Tojo’s gaze on you is distinguished — gentle yet stern, matching his demeanor. He's calm and calculating and is waiting for your response to his strangely personal question. 

“I…I, I don’t know.” It was another lie.

“Why’re you lyin’?”

“I’m not…!” Toji clicked his teeth with a face.

“Fine, answer me this then. Have ya ever thought of doin’ it since ya moved here?” 

Yup, this question was far worse than the other. His words echo inside your noggin, bewildered with every syllable relaying. And the widowed man lifts his brow from the lack of an instantaneous answer. You open your mouth, but words fail to aid you, your tail shying away behind your shadow. “I-I…I don’t—“

“Ever thought of me?”

“Toji!” You shout defensively. Sure, it might’ve been out of line to ask. However, it’s the fact that he’s breaking your exterior with every question — because of how on-the-mark he is. You could never prepare yourself for that inquiry, the heat on your face growing more unbearable. How could he know of the frenzy he puts you through just for existing? 

“I’m not dumb.” You peep Toji, turning his torso and facing his entire front in your direction. “You think I don’t notice how often you try to push me off when I invite ya over or know when y’re lookin’ at me when you think I’m not aware’?” He dents the bed with his added weight, and you forget to breathe, watching him inch closer. “Or act all shy and cute when I got you to myself?” 

You gulp, your brain short-circuiting at the feeling of Toji’s palm on your thigh. There have been countless nights where you’ve thought of your neighbor more than once, indulging in fantasies you could never speak of to a soul, especially Toji himself. To let the man know of the dirty things you’d want him to say to you, the names you wish him to call you, the erotic things you’d like him to do to you — death is the only option necessary not to let that happen. Unfortunately, he seems to have a good idea now that he’s cornered you like this, and you’re too stunned to utter a word.

“It’s okay, though,” he whispers low now that he’s close to your face, and you have to hold back on letting out a yelp when his hand comes to hold your face, his index finger toying with your sensitive earlobe. “‘Cuz I love it when y’re all timid, can’t even look me in the face…Like now.”

You try to avert away from him, but his thumb brings your chin back to him. “Toji, please,” his name feels forbidden to say all of a sudden. 

“Tell me ‘no’.” His nose brushes the tip of yours, and you chew your lip. “I’ll stop right now and leave, let you deal with this y’reself…Or,” he ghosts to your ear, and you quiver. “I’ll stay with you and treat you to what y’ve been scared to ask fr’.”

“Toji, wait,” Fuck, you can’t remember the last time you had your ears so keen, his breath brushing it enough to compel you to meltdown.

“Say ‘no,’ princess.” You’re locked under his forest-green orbs, and you swear you could hear your heart hammering your chest. “Or I’ll treat you right tonight.”

Perplexed eyes can’t move anywhere else, and your lips are wet from licking them without knowing. Is this really happening…? An inquisition you had no time to answer for yourself once Toji closes the gap, centimeters nearer with every millisecond.

I…can’t…

His face draws near, and your eyes reflex to close. 

I don’t…want to…

Toji pulls you in for a gentle kiss; your thoughts radio silent after the contact of his scarred lips on yours. No shot. Your neighbor was kissing you right now — there’s no way!? This had to be a dream…! This is truly a wild night: not only are you tipsy to the noggin, but your neighborhood crush has found out your secret, and now you’re kissing that exact crush in your room?? Your muscles go tense at what is occurring. 

He peppers your lips with kisses, forced to catch up with him as he claims your lips, a palm snaking to the back of your head to keep you steady. He licks your bottom lip, chewing gently to prompt the softest gasps out of your mouth. “C’mon, baby,” he coos to your sensitive ears. “Relax wit’ me.” You nearly melt at the lick of your helix as his free hand courses from your chest to your waist. The brush of his fingers onto your tail makes you jolt. 

“Toji, wait,” you mutter under your breath as he nibbles on your pointy ear, your hands gripping the back of his black wife beater. “D-Don’t; I’m so sensi—Nmmm…!” Jesus, the moan you held back! Toji trails his mouth to your chin down to your neck to suck on your skin. And your lower half throbs harder. “Ahhh…hahhh…”

He returns his lips to yours; this time, his tongue runs on your teeth vigorously to seek entry. You submit after a chew to your bottom lip, whimpering as the older man inserts his wet muscle to greet yours. Surreal, isn’t it, to be tongued down by your neighbor? You don’t know whether it’s the alcohol, the twitches between your inner thighs, or the flick of his tongue and the sound of his purrs that have your face getting hotter. 

And fuuuuuuck, he’s such a good kisser — scratch that, he’s an AMAZING kisser! You’re practically turning into putty in the palm of his hands as he lips you, tilting his head to a proper position with a soft push to your face as he deepens the kiss. He sucks on your tongue, and you mewl, helplessly quivering when he teases the muscle with nibbles. Your waist has a mind of its own while it sways involuntarily, rocking as you sink into the zealous kiss. He’s not overpowering you in any way; if anything, he’s so overwhelmingly comforting, his hand caressing your cheek tenderly, and soft noises of lips smacking and breaking apart bounce one after the other.

Then, you shrill unexpectedly. “…!! Mmahhh! T-Tojiii, d-don’t—don’t touch…Haahhh…”

“Oh? Well, lookie here.” Your ears perk at Toji’s chuckle. Unbeknownst to you, distracted by the intense kiss, your neighbor sneaks his hand under your skirt and touches your private zone shielded by your pantyhose, fingers pressing up on your vulva area. “All we did is kiss, and ya already got your panties wet?”

Embarrassed? Of course, it’s been so long since you were touched like this and out of practice. Now, your repressed emotions start to crumble out of their straightened form the more Toji’s middle finger rubs on your panties. And let’s not even mention your thighs motioning to ride on the digit, your dignity starting to disintegrate. “Ohhh, Toji…”

“Mmm? What is it, sweetie?” He nuzzles to your neck after licking and sucking on your chin. “Feelin’ good down there?” He curls his middle and forefinger to push. “Got ya all excited?” He receives a confirmed hum. “Tell me how y’re feelin’.”

You gulped thickly, your breathing shaking. “I-I’m feeling—shit…” he laughs lowly at your swearing. “Nnnm! You’re making me feel…so hot.”

“I can tell, you’re twitchin’ like crazy right on my fingertips.” His fingers move into a circular motion, and your mouth goes agape. “Fuck, man…Hey, hold on, I wanna do somethin’.”

Toji removes his fingers from under your skirt before you can tell, the heat between your legs going tepid as he withdraws from your figure to lay his back on the bed. But before that, he unzips and loosens his jeans to his butt. A noticeable tent of his boxer briefs has your lips locked to each other, and your eyes widen when he subtracts the material. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more crazier, you are awake to witness the display of Toji’s erection in real-time. 

How long has it been since you’ve seen a real-life, living, and breathing dick before your eyes? You honestly can’t recall that; the responsibilities of human life have made you grow numb to your demon necessities that it no longer feels innate. However, the sight of your crush’s solid, girthy, excited cock is marveling. How your mouth waters as you ogle at it is borderline humiliating, eyes glued to the uncut tip.

“Like what ya see?” He asks smugly, kicking his jeans and briefs off and slapping his thigh. “C’mere, mama.” Oh, fuck, the quirk of your insides was unavoidable at his comment, primarily as he guides you closer to him. “Let’s warm up.” You yelp as he effortlessly moves your legs to where you straddle him. He pushes your skirt up to your waist, and you can hear the tear from your pantyhose. His thumb comes to slide your panties to the side, and he whistles. “Damn, lookin’ all pretty and wet fr’ me.” 

It’s either the fact that Toj’s dick is inches in front of your face or your bare pussy out in the air in front of him; either one of the two has your mind going in a whirlwind. And it all comes to a standstill the moment you sense something wet and firm glide across your labia, and it takes everything in you not to tremble. “Mmm, oh, fuck,” he groans after licking your cunt, throwing in another lazy one to have you holler. “It’s been so long…Shit.”Toji’s hands curl from your legs to cup your asscheeks, keeping your butt near him to lap his tongue around your chasm. You whine as he licks you down, your teeth clattering at the sensation. 

Oh, my God, your head begins to ache. It feels so good, your body finally coming back to the groove of things as you move your butt around. The man under you quickly latches his mouth onto you, a firm grip on your ass to keep you in place for him to service you. Speaking of service, your eyes flick to the erect limb before you, your mouth salivating with the run of your tongue across your teeth. Fuck, it looks so good; you admire internally before inching your face close to the length, your head getting dizzier from the sheer size and musk. Damnit…I wanna taste him so bad…!!

“Go on, dollface,” Toji gives your butt a playful smack. “I know ya need this bad.” 

God, he’s so right — you need this; there’s no point in denying anymore. You blow on it before placing a tender kiss, noticing how it pulsates as your hand wrings around the shaft. You lick your lips before pecking at the uncircumcised tip, and Toji’s hold on you goes tighter. He’s sensitive, you note. Adorable. You stick your tongue out to swirl around the cockhead, bathing it with your saliva before you inhale it with a delighted hum, gradually warming up your loosened jaw.

Fuck, the taste of a cock — something that felt nostalgic the moment he graced your tastebuds. Your eyes water a bit, trembles rocking your figure as Toji sucks on your wetness, and every inch you intake fuels the haze that fogs your brain. You stroke and suck him simultaneously, a forgotten method that rekindles now in this moment. You coat him with your spit the more you relax your jaw, slurping him unapologetically as if a different part of yourself takes over. 

On the other hand, Toji feels the same way. It’s been way too long for the widowed man since the last time he has been intimate with someone, let alone have a bare ass right in front of him. It’s no secret that he’s had the hots for you once you moved here, but having you on top of him like this is like something out of his wet dreams. The way you murmur cutely as you suck his dick turns him on so bad, a guilty pleasure come true as he drinks your nectar off your damp naked folds. His tongue teases around the entrance of your vagina before pushing it in, fucking your opening with his wet muscle. You cry on his girth, your tail cringing in the air from the stimulation. He spots it and grabs it from the base; how your lower half jolts to the grasp is humorously darling to him. So cute.

The minutes go longer as you two keep pleasing each other, and a soft whimper escapes your lips when you release Toji from your lips, lips plastering long and sweet kisses on his shaft as you massage the tip. Your other hand palms and kneads his ballsack, the jerk of his thighs rewarding to see, so you increase the pace of your hand.

“—Thhh, nmm!” Toji curses from behind, sluggishly licking from clit to your slit while succumbing to your touch and mouth. “Shiiit, just like that, baby, suck me off like t—Mmngh! Christ, I’m gonna..fffuckin’ cum…”

But then, you remove yourself from Toji’s member, the cold air instantly blanketing him. Green eyes blink as you move off of his lying body, observing you bending over with your face to the cold sheets.

“Toji,” you plea to him desperately, hooded eyes shining eagerly. “Please, I need it…Here,” you spread your ass, fully exposing your slit wet from your fluids mixed with his saliva. Jesus, you were heathing as if you were in heat. “Do it here, I need it inside…!”

You had the man shook; the cogs in his mind stopped working briefly. The picture of you presenting yourself like this to him was unexpected, but goddamn, did it turn him on astronomically! Toji stands on his knees and advances to you, removing his tank top and discarding it to the floor. “Yeah? You want it that bad?” You nod impetuously. “Words, sweetie. Need you to tell me what to do.”

“Toji, pleeease…!” You wiggle your ass until he cusps it, kneading your flesh lovingly to the point that your tail curls around his forearm. “Please, put it in, I wanna feel it…!”

“Yeah, is that what my princess wants?” You and Toji bite your lips when he aligns his tip to your inner labia, teasing you with grinding motions. “Does my demon baby want Daddy to mess y’r insides that bad?”

Oh, we’re playing that card, too? Holy shit, you were getting so wet from this! “Yess, Daddy, pleasee! Mess me up with that dick, wanna be filled up right nooww…!”

He can’t hide the proud grin. “Good girl. Here,” Toji begins to push the cockhead to you, and your lips flatten at the wince of pain that accompanies the push. “Stay still, and lemme reward you,” his hips move slowly in your direction, you grip the sheets to prepare yourself, and your nerves are dialed to a plane of exhilaration you can’t regulate. Oh my God, is this happening? He’s gonna fuck me? So many thoughts cloud your mind, too excited and anxious for what’s to come because it’s been so. Damm. Long. How’s it gonna feel? Is your body ready enough? How does Toji feel about this; is he just as nervous as you a—

Your train of thought is brought to an abrupt halt at the sensation of Toji’s tip finally inserting itself into your vagina, too absentminded that your open mouth couldn’t say a word. Oh, fuck it’s in, it’s in! Your eyes widen, your muscles tense, and your voice struggles to cry. The older man continues to add himself leisurely, the length sundering your slit and stretching your opening as you take him inch by inch. Your back arches instinctively, wailing silently as you can feel the foreign limb intruding your tightness, quick quirks of your frame as he rubs your velvety texture. Ohhhh, my God…!!

When he slowly starts to rut into you, recurring waves of rapture hit your nerves every. Single. Time! You’re entire body is rocked to the core with every short yet gentle pound; the feeling of Toji’s veiny cock scrapping your channel has you shivering. And once he’s encouraged to push his entire member until the very hilt, you yelp aloud when the tip kisses your womb. “—Oooh??!”

“—Mmngh!” Your quick spasm surprises Toji. “Ohhh, shit, there it is. Hmm? Is this where ya want me, mama? Want me right…here?” He snaps his hips swiftly, the rushed movement and hit to your cervix knocks you winded. And another, you keep wringing his shaft acutely. “Ahhn, God fucking damn i—Iisshhffuck, fuck, I can’t, gonna…Hnghh!”

Toji’s body shudders above you, bucking into your warmth with a jittery pattern. The prolonged reaction of his orgasm claims him now, succumbing to the silky, tight texture and how well you’re grasping onto his girth. He comes inside you, moaning as he ejaculates earlier than expected. You sense it, humming to the immediate filling. So warm, so full of his cock already that your toes curl. 

And Jesus Christ, it felt so. Fucking, Good! You were no longer drunk from the alcohol; now, you were intoxicated by the prowess and pleasure of Toji’s dick. 

“Hah, haaaah, fuck,” he throws his head back with a hiss, his abdomen relaxing from the earlier flex. Then, your tail glides up from his abs, feeling up on his skin and roaming on his happy trail. He snickers at your feline-like comportment, “Heh, actin’ all cute now that you got what ya wanted, huh?” You say nothing, bashful to his words, while your tail curls up to his chin. “Don’t go quiet on me now, dollface; I heard you squeaking and moanin’ seconds ago.”

Toji then returns to rut into you despite recovering from his climax, furled to have you shrieking uncontrollably for him. The smacks of his pelvis recoil the flesh of your ass, his come stuffed inside you now glued to his erection as he rocks into you balls-deep. “Mmmm, yeah, that’s right, baby,” he grabs your tail and wraps it around his hand to pull; you scream louder, and your vaginal walls clamp tighter than ever. “Arch more fr’ me, enjoy me—nmm…!—fuckin’ you real good.”

The pull of your tail makes your senses hypersensitive, perturbed by the stress of it being pulled, yet the enjoyment you feel from it is too inexorable to comprehend. Coherent sentences double down to undecipherable babbles, “—Daahh, hoohhfuuc—D-Daddyyy, Daddyyy…!!” Tears well up in your eyes as he inflicts blows to your ass, the pain too quick to prepare for yet the sting enough to make you rigid. “—Too much, ish t’oo muuuch…!”

Another smack to your butt, and you howl once again. “Huh, ya say that, but y’re milkin’ my cock like crazy.” He bends down to remove your hands that try to hide your face and horns with the pillow. “What, ya don’t like this? Hmm? Want me to stop?” 

“No, nooo!!” You shook your head immediately; your vision blurred for a few seconds. “I loveee iit, I love this, love Daddy’s diick—Ahaaa!! More…I want moreee!” Fuck, this is bad; any more than this, and you’ll be addicted for sure.

“Good,” he whispers to your ears. Good Lord, you weren’t going to survive. “Because I ain’t done wit’ ya yet, princess.”

Before you can register his sentence fully, Toji straightens and lays on his side behind you, lifting your leg to create a suitable angle. He then plunges into you harder and faster, the different positions helping the sporadic cadence achieve deeper penetration while scraping your upper wall with ease. At this point, your body is too hot and sticky to care about anything else outside this room; your head pounding and too misty, your senses corrupted by the constant pokes to your cervix and the increasing haze that you don’t feel human anymore. Your succubus roots flourish, drool escapes your lips, and wanting nothing but this feeling to remain ceaseless.

“Gahh, ohhhDaddyyy, ahhahh,” eyes roll to your skull at the brush of your sweet spots. “Shhoo good, I fweel shoo gooood…! Harder, hardeeerr!” 

“—Khhck, goin’ as hard as I fuckin’ can!!” Toji kisses your cheek after a lick, chewing on it after hearing you mewl submissively. “Jesus, this pussy, out of this fuckin’—Nnngh…world.”

You turn to him and claim his lips, and he reciprocates into your steamy kiss. Vulgar tongues exchange spit and encroach on each other’s mouth, and you helplessly suck on Toji’s after he shoves it, your puffy lips intaking the attractive noises he makes. And you slither a hand down to your clitoris to swipe erratically while your tail goes around Toji’s waist and curves into the crevice of his ass. Suddenly, Toji stiffens at the pointy end of your tail, tickling his anus, and the raven-haired man gasps at the insertion. Too stunned to speak, he can only move his hips rapidly, his white-ringed shaft digging deep into you with the help of stimulating his prostate. 

“—Taahhh, y-you, lil’ minx…!” He breaks the kiss and bites your lip to hear you whimper. “Tryin’ ta make me cum again?”

You nod, breathing heavily. “Ohhh, Daddy, I’m so close…! Gonna come!”

“Me too, mama, me too…” 

Hot moans and groans fly out of each other’s mouths, bodies stuck to each other as you both chase for release. Everything feels so fast, so hot, happening all at once; all you can think about is the grinding presses you push up on your delicate clit. Fuck, fuck! It’s coming, it’s coming…!”

Then, it arrives. Your cunt, aching for the climax, receives the crescendo you’ve been aching for this entire time. The walls of your vulva contract around Toji’s member, milking and wringing him as you come loose to your grounding. A clear liquid exerts out of your urethra, showering out to stain your panties, torn pantyhose, and bedsheets, your breathing losing its steadiness and falling to a jagged tempo. The same goes for Toji, who falls into his peak along with you; your fluttering folds force him to submit and release his second load into you with a hiss. The older man’s heaving frame keeps bucking into you until every drop fills you to the brim, burrowing his face deep into your neck to rest as the shocks rock you both.

Finally, everything goes quiet. The cozy atmosphere pulls you out of your heightened elevation and lays you down with silent clarity. Both you and Toji, sweaty and sticky all over, are still linked to each other as the high dissipates. Shuddering figures begin to calm down and fall at ease with the tranquility.

Toji kisses your neck, and you croon until he comes to lay his lips on yours for a tender peck, then on your soft cheek and your temple. He then removes his flaccid bulge, white fluids oozing out of your hole. “Damn, that was good,” he mutters breathlessly. “Hmm, how ya feel—“

The onyx-haired man couldn’t finish his question because of the sudden change of positions you abruptly conducted. He now lays on his back with you straddling him; the calm tone switched to an unexpected spiking mood. 

You then hand grab his dick and arrange it back to your raised hips. Viridian orbs widen. Wait. The tip meets your labia once more before you descend it down. What the f—hold on— And then, his cock is swallowed back inside your wetness, and Toji grits his teeth.

 “Sh-Shit, sweetie,” Toji’s hands come to your waist. “What’s up, aren’t y—“

“Sorry, Toji,” the man surveys with confusion, watching you strip off and throw your shirt somewhere. Your naked chest is now out for him to see, and his breath hitches when you place your hands on his pectorals while a span of bat-like wings springs out from your back. “…That wasn’t enough.”

Wasn’t enough?? He repeats with furrowed brows, noticing the half-lidded, lustful expression and the sharp dents of your canines. Then, it hits him: 

“The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”

…Oh, shit. “Wait, we can talk about—“ You get your answer once you bounce on his cock without notice, Toji nearly choking on his tongue. Nope, no room for prattling.

“You let out so much, made my mind go so crazy,” you grind your hips on his pelvis, squeezing his limp cock while it gets firmer and firmer. “Feel so good…More, I want moreee…”

“C-C’mon now, baby, can’t we take a break for a minute at least—“You bring your face an inch away from his.

“Daddy,” your neighbor shudders at the gentle kiss you place under his chin. “Please take care of me like you promised, ‘kay?”

Your gaze lured him in, a trap he was foolish enough to fall for. Because now, he’s stuck under your bow as you begin to inflict an inescapable rhythm, rebounding on his erection until the base meets your folds. Choked groans suppressed by Toji, but take his lips with yours, enforcing a loving yet salacious spell with your satisfied moans. Now, your crush realizes you weren’t the meek, adorable neighbor he dotes on. 

Tonight, he was yours to play like a fiddle…And shame on him for getting way more turned on than he should be!

Wow. Guess I’m dyin’ tonight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

I should be fuckin’ dead right now.

Toji knew something was up when his eyelids opened, and his emerald eyes scanned the ceiling, instantly recognizing that he wasn’t in his master bedroom. The rays of sunshine are blocked from the curtains, yet the light of day crawls in and basks the room in a low glow. Chirps of birds outside greet him on the basking of a new autumn day, lying comfortably in the cold, silky sheets of the bed.

He wakes to a bit of a headache, mentally and physically groggy. Attempts to move are already tricky and aches all over his body keep him grounded in the mattress. Ugh, feel like I’ve lost all feelin’ in my legs; the man can’t even lift one leg without a grimace. And even his arms are challenging, one so oddly heavy as if it’s nailed down. 

“Fuck, man.” His first words of the day are a curse, irritated by the drum of his head. He tries to lift himself; again, it’s not possible, agitating the man even more. And why the fuck is my arm so hea—

He doesn’t finish his sentence — the answer reveals itself once he turns his head to the left. 

He sees you, surprised to view you in your natural form still. Horns have grown a little larger, yet still small enough for you to rest your cheek on his shoulder. You were sound asleep, faint snores picked up by his ears as he examined your face at ease with a peaceful slumber. Nude, the both of you, a hand wrapped around his left arm to stick close to you while the other is stationed at his chest, your bat wings shriveled together to not get damaged. And judging by the snake-ish feeling, your tail was curled around his bare thigh. 

Strangely innocent to see after the events of last night flash into Toji’s recollection, funny to match such a lewd scenario to such a sweet face. He stifles a laugh, placing his right hand on the vulnerable one on him, his thumb caressing your knuckles as he grasps your fingers. Suddenly, some of the soreness he harbors feels light — glad I ain’t dead, I guess.

Your eyes jit behind your eyelids, a soft groan as you suddenly move and scrunch your face. Finally, your drowsy eyes sheepishly flicker open. Lidded gaze fighting the spell of sleep with every bat of your eyes.

“Mornin’, gorgeous.” Toji greets you.

“…”

“…”

In real-time, Toji watches your somnolent morph into a gradual display of mortification. He’s a little envious to see you spring up with no strain on your body, wings batting out of their relaxed state, and your hand still with his. “T-Toji??” You question directly, eyes surveying the nude neighbor in your bed, doing everything in your power to ignore the fact that you’re naked as well. Speaking of, you notice the subtle pink glow of your womb tattoo, and anxiety spikes to a high. “I–uhh–I’m so so sorry for last night! Sorry you had to bring me back home, and I didn’t mean to act weirdly on you with—Ooof?!”

“Relax,” he cuts you off by pulling you back to his lying frame, his left hand now free to snake on your shoulder. “Don’t talk so fast; my head’s poundin’ like crazy.”

You blink aimlessly, awkward now that you’re fully aware you’re in this man’s embrace. You can’t help recalling what transpired last night, suddenly feeling squeamish. “…You okay?”

“I feel like my life’s been drained by my dick,” he answers bluntly, adding more weight to your embarrassment. “Wakin’ up to a pretty face who nearly killed me with their pussy isn’t somethin’ I’d expect.” 

“……sorry.”

“It’s alright,” calloused fingers glide and intertwine with his yours, stroking your thumb with his. “Had a good time either way. Wild, but good.”

“Really…?” 

“Really.” You probably shouldn’t have peered up to see him look your direction. Albeit exhausted, his handsome face and sleepy grin ignite the heat on your cheeks. And your stomach flips, hearing a laugh when you meekly avert your gaze away. “How many times did we do it?”

“…Not sure,” long enough for my womb tattoo to be blatant. 

“Me either. Does that happen often?”

“Sometimes? I guess it’s because I haven’t done it for a long time, so I went…off the rails because of the intensity.”

“Noted, because I never felt so old until now. I probably pulled somethin’.”

“….Sorry.”

“Y’re good,” Toji scoffs before moving to place a soft kiss on your forehead, and your heart skips the tighter his hand holds your hand. “Tell ya what, I can help you with that cycle of yours, probably…twice a month, so it doesn’t get too crazy like last night. And don’t use y’re powers or some shit to make me forget, either. I don’t wan’ that.”

You lift your face from his shoulder, the heat spreading to your ears. “You don’t have to do that, Toji, I wouldn’t—“

“Nah, I’m down; it’s what neighbors for. Besides, it finally gives me a reason to make ya interact with me more.” Again, his smug smirk causes knots in your stomach. “Like the sound of that, mama? Let Daddy take care of you?”

Your lips quiver, and you hide your face back onto his shoulder. The rumble of his laughter worsens the butterflies in your stomach, and your tail squeezes on his thigh. “Don’t say it like that, Toji!”

“Y’r tail seems to like it.”

“Stop it!”

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by tamayura banko + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[darnell-la]

I NEED A SMUT ONE SHOT OF THIS LOGAN I CANT FIND ANY

𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗡𝗘𝗘𝗗 𝗠𝗘

pairing: mob boss! Wolverine x mutant!reader

summary: After getting mutant powers, Wade and y/n thought they could save the city from gangsters to be recruited as an avenger. They soon find out that the boss of all the gangsters in the city is a variant who slipped his way into their universe. A new Wolverine, but the worst of them all.

warnings: blood, possessive, animalistic, neck biting, marking, tasting, smut, etc.

note: Logan can't ignore a woman who's just like him.

please message and request us for more of this variant!

———

How do you guys feel about a x men story with reader? Logan being rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again, because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

“How about we shut the fuck up so we can make it out of here alive, hm?” Y/n asked Wade who kept whispering over to her that he swore he knew the man sitting in the chair.

“How would you possibly know a mob boss Wade?” She annoyingly asked, thinking he was joking as usual, but after she turned to look at Wade, she noticed how serious he was.

“That’s the fuckin’ Wolverine,” Wade gasped, noticing the man’s muscles and body structure as well as his hair that stayed up perfectly. Wade was a fanboy and knew from the comics, this had to be a variant of him.

“C’mon, y/n! We’ve had too much shit happen for you to not at least think. Look at him! The man looks exactly like him!” Wade said, as y/n shook her head. Sometimes she regretted teaming up with Wade. This was one of the times.

“God fuckin’ damn, do I have to prove myself every time I say something!?” Wade said before dropping down to the floor and kicking up into the man’s face.

As the man holding Y/n loosened his grip from the unexpected fight with Wade, y/n turned around, elbowing the man in his face, causing him to knock out next to the other man.

“Mister Howlett, I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet you-“ Wade said as he walked towards the man who was still facing the pool table. Before Wade could finish his sentence, the man brought out his claws and stabbed Wade in his face.

Y/n gasped loudly as the man pulled back and Wade fell to the ground, groaning in minimal pain.

Y/n charged at the man, hoping he’d stay faced forward so she could end him, but he got up and grabbed Y/n. All in a swift motion, the man turned her around and slammed her on the table, one hand around her neck as the other brought out his claws and strapped her in the gut.

Y/n yelled, feeling the sharp pain, but it quickly went away. Y/n breathed heavily as she looked up, about to throw a punch, but she froze.

“Holy shit,” she said, seeing rare eyes looking down at her. “Told you!” Wade jumped up onto his feet before a few bodyguards pulled him back.

“H-How?” She asked as the man dug deeper into her stomach with a head tilt. The last time he checked, he was the only one to regenerate. How come a man in a red onesie and a pretty young lady he’s never seen before, can do the same as him.

“Take the man to the basement, and her — Get her cleaned and dressed to my liking,”

Y/n looked at the man, confused as well as Wade. “Hey, wait! We need to talk!” Wade yelled as the men dragged him away. “Don’t worry — We will,” Logan said as he removed his claws from y/n, eyes still burned into her.

Y/n stayed still, looking up at the man she knew was dangerous. He looked dangerously and anyone who knew who Wolverine was, would know he was.

“Fascinating,” the man said as he lifted y/n’s tight shirt up, grazing across her wound that healed in seconds. Logan quickly stepped back and snapped his fingers.

Y/n leaned up, getting ready to fight anyone that came near, but she failed as four men grabbed her. Y/n yelped after a sharp pain stuck in her neck. Before she could say anything, she fell out.

Y/m had woken up thirty minutes ago, cleaned, and dressed in some skin-tight silky dress. She had no idea what was going ok and why she had red bottom heels on.

She stayed seated on the bed in the huge room she was locked in before the door finally opened. “Said, I can handle her, alright? Stop fuckin’ buggin’ me, Bub,” Logan said before shutting the door behind him with a sigh.

“Where’s Wade?” Y/n asked after seeing blood stains on the man’s white suit. “Being held,” he replied as he made his way over to the bed she was on. The young lady crawled back onto the bed until her head hit the headboard.

“Let us go, and we’ll let you love — For now,” she added, making the man chuckle. “You can’t handle me just because you can regenerate, Bub,” Logan said, now standing on the bed.

“Your little partner told me what you were up to. You thought you could kill me? Serious, y/n?“ the man said, making her heart drop. He knew her name. Fuckin’ Wade…

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you. You’ve got me all wrong,” the man said as he reached out to her. The girl flinched, not knowing what he was going to do until his hand softly touched her skin.

“No one knows what I do, so if I tell you this, you’ll have to promise to keep that pretty mouth closed,” he said, taking a look at her lips.

“D-Depends,” she said as his fingers trailed around her leg. “I had been demoted from these bastards wearing helmets. They tried stickin’ me with something, but I took care of it,” Y/n knew what he meant by that.

“Took one of their devices, and got here. Same world but different. Wanna know how?” He asked, hands close to the bottom of her mid-thigh dress. “Why?” She asked low.

“Because pretty girls like you back at home don’t come into my space trying to kill me,” he said, slightly scarring the girl. What did she get herself into?

“But don’t worry, Bub. You thought I was one of them, so I’ll let it slide. I’m not a drug dealer, I’m not a gun dealer, and I don’t kill people unless they demand shit. Usually, they’re bad,”

“Wade isn’t bad, and you stabbed the man,” Y/n said, making the man chuckle. “He was in my face and broke into my home. You gotta understand me on that, princess,” he said, now tracing his hands up her clothed thigh.

“Good, so, now that we’re at some kind of understanding, is like to offer you what I offered your partner,”

“Work with me to keep this place from falling apart. In my last world, I was the bad guy. I was all the things I just told you I’m not. I’ve changed, and I need more people like me to help,”

Y/n was confused at the sudden change in the man. At first, he seemed like he was going to murder her and Wade in the worst way possible, but now, he’s asking for help.

“And if you don’t wanna get your pretty hands dirty, you can just be by my side, lookin’ just like that,” he said, slowly hovering over the girl who didn’t think of pushing him off.

“Hey, your friend’s fine. This isn’t his blood. I know it doesn’t make it better, but just know, the stranger deserved it — Trust me, princess,”

Y/n didn’t know what came over her, but she believed him. Maybe he isn’t bad, and he’s just disguising himself like this to move around the safe.

“You trust me, baby?” He asked as his free hand cupped her chin. “C’mon, Bub — Talk to me,” Logan said as he leaned towards her, lips inches from her. He knew that if she didn’t want him on her, she would’ve done something about it.

“I don’t even know you,” Y/n said, feeling her stomach tingle. How is he doing this to her? “Then let me introduce myself,” the man said before softly attacking her lips, instantly forcing his tongue in her mouth.

Y/n moaned low in between their kiss, hating herself for letting a stranger touch her in any kind of way, but it was hard to push him away. The man was intimidating.

“You don’t understand how good it feels to know there’s someone like me. Especially when they look like you and taste so good,”

Logan hikes the younger lady's dress up until he could fully grab her ass, squeezing until she earned a loud whine. “Soundin’ pretty, Bub,”

Y/n wanted to respond, but the feeling of the man’s teeth softly biting down on her neck stopped her.

Y/n’s hands flew to his shoulders to grip down on as she let out a low whine. The man groaned in her ear before he continued moving his hands down her body.

“Your little friend told me, you and I would get along. He wasn’t wrong, Bub,” the man said as he tugged on his dress pants until his cock fell out, rubbing against y/n’s thigh.

“What did that bastard tell you?” Y/n asked, trying to control her whine as the man kept nibbling on her neck. He was hungry for the young lady and wasn’t afraid to show it.

“Said you’re a hard ass just like me. Can’t listen, do what you want, cuss like a sailor, and need a man to match your energy,”

“Said you’d scare anyone off, but wouldn’t be able to scare me. Seems like you need me as much as I need you,”

Logan pulled Y/n’s panties to the side so he could push at her entrance. “Augh, shit,” the man grunted, feeling the woman grip him instantly.

Y/n’s legs wrapped around the man, tightening to pull him into her so his cock could fill her fast. “Fuck, y/n,” the man was shocked at how much she wanted this too.

“Alright, Bub, I got some rules for ya,” the man said as he leaned up, cock still in her, stroking slowly. “I don’t want you treatin’ no one with respect. You walk around how I dress you, and make it know you’re with me,”

Y/n traced her hands all over the man’s upper body, even his arms as she listened with lustful eyes.

“Gonna need you to stay close to me. Needa keep safe and on my lap, mhkay? Needa keeps my hands on you,” the animal had slipped from Logan. He’d never felt like this before, but the need to claim her all around was no question after he felt her walls clamp onto him.

“All fuckin’ mine, and I know I said Ian a bad guy, but if someone pisses you off or makes you emotional in any kind of way — I swear to god, I’ll separate their head from their body,”

Logan had leaned close to Y/n’s face, allowing her to grab his cheeks and rub at them.

“Need my girl happy. Need her to look good every second of the day. I know you regenerate, but you need me, baby. You need me to protect you from whatever’s out there,”

“Please take care of me,” y/n said, knowing he meant every word he said. He was claiming her now and will claim her any other chance he can.

After she came into his mansion, acting recklessly, he knew he had to keep her in check and close. There are not many people like them, and no one deserves them. No one deserves her. Only he deserves her, and no one can tell him otherwise.

[no-144444]

the grid reacts: getting caught making out!

featuring: Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Daniel Riccardo, George Russell, Alex Albon, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Lando Norris

-------------------

Oscar Piastri 

It was just meant to be a small peck, but then he wrapped his arms around you, and it escalated. It had all started with a tiny peck, just before you left his driver’s room to leave him time alone before the race, but Oscar had very persuasive lips (and a very persuasive tongue). He lifted you into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he deepened the kiss, holding you impossibly close. Then he sat down on his physio table, making you straddle him as you got as turned on as he was. You two had time, right? His hands grabbed anywhere and everywhere, exploring your body, despite knowing it so well. You whimpered into his mouth as he squeezed your ass, making you jolt forward. He smirked as you pulled back, throwing him a look of annoyance. 

“Let me kiss it better?” he smirked and you playfully hit his chest, and he pulled you back in for another kiss. "I love you."

“Oscar! We’ve been calling you for-” Lando’s voice rang out as you scrambled to get off of him, but Lando had already seen. You buried your head in your hands, embarrassed and trying not to laugh as Oscar pulled his cap off of his head and covered his bulge. Lando burst out laughing, nearly falling to the floor as he realised what he’d walked in on, and you got up to leave, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and giving Lando a kick on your way out. 

You: We are never doing that again. Top 10 most embarrassing moments of my life. 

Oscar: Ok WatchMojo. 

You: Sassy man apocalypse. 

-------------------

Charles Leclerc

Charles was a horny man after races. No matter how tired he was, he had to have you. That’s how you ended up in his driver’s room with his lips on yours. He was intoxicating. His sounds, his lips, his tongue. Everything. 

“Mon coeur,” he bit down softly on your collarbone. “Tu es trop belle pour être vraie-” (you are too beautiful to be true)

“Shut the fuck up and fuck me Charles,” you said, out of breath. He had a habit of trying to take things slowly, especially in risky places. You were almost sure he had a thing for doing it in public. He smirked down at you and pressed his lips to your again, using one hand to start to undo your trousers. 

Suddenly the door flew open and you both sat up, hitting your head off of the other’s head, both of you groaning out in pain. 

“Connerie,” he hissed, holding his forehead. 

“Motherfuck!” you groaned as Arthur stared at the two of you dumbfounded, his cheeks red. 

“I’ll just… come back later,” he said, then closed the door behind him. 

“We’ve just traumatised your little brother,” you sighed, hiding your face in the nape of his neck. 

“He will survive,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Too bad my pride didn’t,” you added, making him laugh. God, you loved his laugh. 

-------------------

Daniel Riccardo 

He was a slick bastard. One ‘I need help with my suit babe’  and there you were in his driver’s room, your shirt being pulled off and new hickies being left over the fading ones. It had been 2 weeks since you’d seen Daniel, too busy to come to the last race, and then you were travelling for a friend’s wedding. Now you were back, and Daniel was planning on showing you just how much he missed you, 40 minutes before the race started, aka, when he was already supposed to be in the damn car. 

“Daniel, we should stop just-” You started, thinking about someone walking in on you two. Sadly RB didn’t give their driver’s fucking locks on their doors, probably because of Baku 2018… yeah, you and Daniel weren’t exactly quiet, and he wasn’t exactly happy after that race. “Slow down.”

He pulled back, smirking up at you. “Baby, come on, we have a bunch of time, and I haven’t seen you in 2 whole weeks, who’s going to walk in?”

You nodded and pressed your lips to his again, allowing your conscience to fall away with the way he was kissing you. Kissing Daniel was like nothing else. Everything else fell away, there was only him. 

But who would walk in? Yuki, probably. 

“Daniel- WOAH! LOCK THE DOOR!” he screamed, alerting the entire motorhome of your actions. You quickly pulled your shirt back over your head as he ran out. As Daniel laughed for a solid minute, you tried to get over your loss of dignity. Yuki sure did make things interesting.

“I have no lock arsehole!” Daniel laughed. 

“You do! It’s the weird thing above the handle!” One of the mechanics shouted back. You walked over to the door, turning the thing above the handle, and the door locked. Daniel laughed even harder. 

Once you finally stopped Daniel from laughing, you both walked out to the whole team clapping and whooping. 

Yeah, not your finest moment. 

-------------------

George Russell

His stupid dumb pretty face. He just looked so kissable, and you couldn’t help yourself. He was covered in champagne, and he was supposed to be using these 5 minutes to shower and change, but you had other plans. You ran him to his driver’s room, started kissing him, and didn’t stop. He didn’t seem to mind, even if it meant he wouldn’t get to shower and he’d just be champagne-y all night. He pushed you against the wall, his hands on your waist as you ran your fingers through his hair. His soft, gorgeous hair. 

His hands travelled up, taking your top with them and you smirked. 

“Getting handsy?” You smirked. 

“Never,” he shook his head and pulled your top off, beginning his assault on your neck. 

“George! Get out of the fucking shower, you can condition later- OH FUCK OFF!” Aleix, his trainer shouted and ran back out the door. George did the gentlemanly thing and covered you, but not without laughter. 

“George!” you hissed as he laughed. “Give me my top!” 

He handed you your top and quickly changed into a new suit, spraying himself in deodorant. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek with one last chuckle. “It's a good story for the grandkids,” he shrugged, leaving you with a smile as he went off to do interviews.

-------------------

Alex Albon

Alex had finished in the points again, and you were just so proud of him. Since he’d gotten out of the car you’d kissed him many a thousand times, but he wasn’t complaining. Actually he’d started making out with you about 3 minutes ago, and something in his kisses told you he wasn’t planning on stopping.

“Your mom will be here any minute,” you reminded him, pulling away. He rolled his eyes. 

“Did you seriously just mention my mom while I had a semi?”

“Had?”

“You mentioned my mom!” 

You chuckled and pressed another kiss to his perfect lips. He pulled you back in, kissing you deeply as his hands ran through your hair, messing it up, but you didn’t care. It felt too good, he felt too good. He nipped at your lips, coaxing them open so he could push his tongue into your mouth. His hands slowly went further down, dangerously close to where your top zipped. 

“Alex,” You warned, breathless. 

He smirked up at you. “For a minute?” 

“Alex-”

“Alex? Are you in here?” George asked, walking in. The Brit was stopped in his tracks when he saw you on his lap, hiding your face in his neck as you tried to contain your embarrassment. He hadn’t even seen anything, but your cheek heated and you wanted the floor to swallow you up.  “Oh, sorry for cockblocking, chat later.”

You both started laughing when he left. 

“We need to start locking the door,” he sighed. 

“I think I’m in shock, I thought that was your mom!” you cried, your breath finally going back to normal as Alex laughed at you. 

-------------------

Lewis Hamilton

It wasn’t fair how good he looked in his media day outfits, and he knew it too. He knew you’d pull him to the side and tell him to meet you in his driver’s room, he knew he’d come, and he knew he’d get to fuck you. 

So there you were, in his driver’s room, his lips on yours as you both desperately pulled each other’s clothes off. 

Too bad you forgot to lock the door. 

“Lewis have you- HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK MY EYES!” Lando immediately covered his eyes, turning around as you dressed yourselves. Did you feel guilty? Yes. Did you care at all? Not really. As soon as he left, would you two continue? Probably. “HAVE SOME SHAME AND HUMILITY PLEASE?”

Lewis laughed. “What do you need now?” 

“Bleach for my eyes, maybe!” Lando’s voice cracked and he turned back, his cheeks red. “I need an extra ice pack if you have one.” 

Lewis nodded and got one of his ice packs out of the freezer in the corner of his room. “Here.”

Lando took it and left without another word. You looked at Lewis, shaking your head. 

“I thought you locked the door,” you smirked, allowing him to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss up your neck. 

“That’s funny, I thought you did,” he smirked. 

“You’re going to get us caught,” you whispered. 

“I don’t really care.”

-------------------

Max Verstappen 

He’d won (again), and he was horny afterwards (again). As soon as he was done with the podium and the main interviews, he ran to his driver’s room and called you to meet him there, needing some ‘support’.

“Max,” you hissed as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand, kissing down your neck. 

“Yes?”  he answered innocently, pressing his lips to yours again. 

“You have interviews-” 

“Fuck the media,” he whispered. “I want you.”

“Max this is a bad idea-” 

Just then, the door swung open to reveal Daniel, holding a camera. 

“You two need to keep it down, we can hear you down at RB!” he laughed as MAx started blushing, pushing his friend out of the room. They fought for a moment, but Daniel eventually left you two alone. Max sat beside you, letting you lean into him. 

“He’s going to post that, isn’t he?”  You asked. 

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You’d never have a day of peace with him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-------------------

Lando Norris

He was a sly bitch. It started as small pecks on your neck and the top of your head, then it was kisses on the lips, and now he had his tongue down your throat as you ground down on him, even though you both knew he was needed elsewhere.

"That's it," he whispered, loosing himself in the feeling of the both of you. "Feels so good."

You nodded, in pure ecstasy as you felt his hands and lips on you. "So good Lan."

His hands pulled you closer (if that was even possible) and you smiled into the kiss. This was the perfect moment-

"LAN!" Zak brown's voice pulled you both out of it, and you scrambled to get up.

Lando sighed as you left his lap and groaned out a simple "What?"

"We need you for a marketing thing, come on, chop chop!" Zak was as oblivious and cheery as ever and you could barely contain your laughter at Lando's 'annoyed teenager' face, as you and Oscar had started calling it.

"Bye baby," you pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he fought back the urge to ignore his duties and just go back to the hotel and spend the rest of the day with you.

-------------------

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[k2ntoss]

I need more baby daddy Jason. Maybe sitting at the park watching him with ur kids and hearing the other moms ogling over him

yall dangerously feeding my brain rot and it's giving me a baby fever i do not wish to feed !!!!!!!!!!! but whoever says baby daddy jason you have my heart rn bc i adore that man!!!!!!!!!!!

by the end of the week it was already time for your kids to go out and have a pretty day at the park, jason had been really busy lately so you took the stroller and placed your babygirl on it before calling your boy, living copy of jason when he was a kid and you couldn't want it any other way because both of your babies had those pretty emerald eyes you so adored.

the way to the park was easy, those two kids had a way to be pretty little angels when it came to go out to the park and you loved that because jason would usually catch up with you sometimes when the work was too much and today was one of those days. your little boy was six and your little girl four, which made it a bit hard to have him playing around and keeping an eye on your babygirl but as soon as jason joined you it was time for the girl to also leave your arms.

jason has been an amazing dad, always making sure his kids and girl were just fine, that they had everything they could ever need and want and it was easy to see in the way the little girl giggles loudly when he sweeps her out of your arms and walks to the playground while you sit, keeping an eye on your son and it's easy to hear the small group of moms muttering and giggling close to where you're sitting.

"do you think he's single? maybe divorced... he just came and picked up the girl from her arms" one of the women says and you roll your eyes because you know how damn well jason looks and how easy it is for him to trigger a baby fever in anyone but the small pang of possessiveness and jealousy that stirs in your chest is there.

"he didn't kissed her, i bet she is the kids' mom but they're not together... i should try and get his number," oh, over your damn dead body anyone would even dare to try and getting jason's number but you know better so you sit, looking at your family with a fond smile because now your two kids are held by jason.

you look at him and you can tell he's been working out more recently because he seems fitter, a little less of that dad body he had gotten since your second child was born and you loved how he looked, broad and muscly but there was a little tummy that only made you drool even more for the father of your kids.

you had to endure the comments and ogling from that group of moms for at least half an hour until you decided you had enough. walking over the place where jason was playing with the kids you stood close, looking at him with a smile when he lifted his head to glance at you and the glint on his eyes made you heart flutter, he picked up the kids on his arms and strode towards you with the widest smile ever amd without saying anything else he leaned in to press a tender kiss on your lips.

"hey there, ma," he whispered still close to your face "i missed you..." the words never fail to make your whole body shudder as you stand in front of the love of your life because that's what jason was, flaws and everything he was everything you could ever want.

"missed you too, jaybird... mind if we take the kids for ice cream?" you ask with a soft tone and it's easy for him to notice what's going on when you don't even pull away but stand even closer while looking up at him like a lovestruck teen again.

that's when jason gently places your girl in the stroller and wraps his free arm around your waist before he peppers a few kisses on your neck earning a chuckle from you and a soft 'yuck' from your boy's lips.

"daddy! stop kissing mommy! let's go for ice cream" and the childish protest makes jason smirk, knowing now he had yet to deal with a whole bunch of spoiled babies instead of just you but he wouldn't have it any other way and like that, with his arm still around your waist jason makes the way to get ice cream and you can satisfiedly feel the disappointment in the group of moms that were shamelessly planing to hit on jason.

[sorchathered]

He’s in love with the girl

Pairing-Jake Seresin x reader

Warnings- smut and language

A/N- I’m baaaack yall! Here’s a little smutty one shot to tie you over until I post for kinktober! @bobgasm and I have been reading too many cowboy romances lately so here’s a little brother’s best friend romance for ya.

Summary- Jake comes home for the summer and falls head over heels for his bestie’s little sister. How’s he gonna tell him that he thinks she’s the one?

———————————————————————————

He shouldn’t be here.

He knows he absolutely shouldn’t , and yet here he is, body pressed up against your bedroom door with his hands in your hair and your lips on his neck.

Any other girl on earth would have been suitable, but no, Jake Seresin just had to fall in love with his best friend’s baby sister.

He’d come home on leave for a month and had expected it to be just like any other trip to Austin. Bar hopping and wrangling cattle, until you walked into his mama’s house. Freshly graduated from college and looking every bit his type. Gorgeous, smart, funny, and a little bit mean to him; it was like kryptonite to him.

He could lie and say he tried to stay away, but you both know that wasn’t true at all. He was down bad, sneaking quiet moments with you in the barn, stopping by to see you after your shifts at the hospital, midnight drives to nowhere that ended with you both tangled up in the back seat of his truck. Your poor brother didn’t have a damn clue, his own life and family kept him just busy enough to keep him out of the loop, and you’d keep it from him as long as you could. Last thing you wanted was for him to pop the perfect bubble the two of you were in.

It wasn’t like he’d held a torch for you or anything like that, anything untoward he was sure Gavin could dream up just wasn’t true. When he’d been reintroduced to you at the beginning of the summer it was like you were a completely different person, not at all the annoying pre teen girl with her one direction obsession that had followed them around years before. You were a bad ass nurse now, someone who took no shit and he’d been falling over himself to get your attention ever since. You’d brushed him off and tried to stay away, but you couldn’t deny that there was absolutely something there, and when he kissed you for the first time it had scared you just how much you wanted more.

“You’re a goddamn dream you know that?” Jake sighed as you ran your nose along his sharp jawline, hands fumbling with his belt as he let his hands roam over the small of your back down to your ass as he kneaded one and then the other cheek before lifting you into his arms. You let out a shriek and erupted into giggles as he carried you to your bed and spread you out on the worn cross and crown patterned quilt.

“You’re gonna get us both in trouble if you keep manhandling me like this you big oaf, the whole house is gonna think-“

“I don’t give a shit what they think, you could scream my name loud enough that they hear it in town, don’t make a difference to me, sugar. I’m tired of sneaking around; want you to be mine.” He had both hands on your hips, staring down at you like you hung the moon and stars. It stole your breath away, you’d thought he’d just been fooling around with you all summer, just another notch in the Hangman’s belt. But the way he was looking at you, it made things feel very, very real.

“Jake. What about Gavin?” You whispered, and he gave a little shake of his head, trying to rid himself of the spell your half naked body had him under. He needed to get this off his chest, if you wanted what he wanted then Gavin could take a long walk off a short pier for all he cared; he’d get over it eventually.

He eased himself on top of you and swiped a loose hair behind your ear, watching as your body relaxed from his touch. Cocky grin plastered on his pretty face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, he took a deep breath and let the words loose that he’d kept buried deep all summer long.

“You know I love Gavin, I’d go to the ends of the earth for that idiot, but I’d be lying if I said his opinion matters one bit when it comes to this. I want you, y/n. I don’t just want you for the summer, I’ll do long distance, late night phone calls, whatever you’ll let me until I can make this permanent. I never thought I’d be the settling down type but damnit darlin’ I’ve got all sorts of dreams planned for me and you, and if you want that too it doesn’t matter what anyone wants or thinks about us, all that matters is how much I’m totally wrapped around your little finger.”

“But-“ he cut you off by placing his lips on yours, letting his hands slide up your sides to cup your face and stealing your breath.

He wasn’t having it- clearly your stubborn ass wasn’t hearing him, he’d just have to show you instead.

He had you naked and spread out before you could even come up with another coherent thought, golden head of hair buried between your legs as he brought you to the edge…and then stopped.

“Look at me pretty girl, I want your eyes on mine when you come, all those sweet noises you make are for me, no one else you got it?” He was being a giant tease, fingers still buried deep as you tried to fight the urge to smack that stupid grin off his face.

“Fuck- you can’t just stop, I- I need-“

“I know what you need baby, and I’ll give it to you every time. But you’re gonna commit this to memory, no one’s ever gonna get to see you like this ‘cept me ever again, you’re mine, and you know I’m used to getting what I want.” He says with a wink, sliding back down to suck your clit into his hot mouth, watching as you arch your whole body into him with a whine.

“Yours Jake, just yours.”

He felt the sun through the blinds and groaned, it was too damn early and warm all wrapped up in you, but he couldn’t put off his plans forever, there was too much at stake and he’d chicken out if he waited much longer. Pressing kisses to your face and neck he untangled himself from you and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He had to come clean to Gavin, and if it didn’t end up with a black eye he’d call that a win.

He pulled up to the diner on Main that had been home to many a hangover meal and found Gavin lounging in their favorite booth along the back wall, his gruff exterior a complete facade as soon as Jake came in the door. Goofy wide smile splitting his face as he made his way over to the table, but Jake couldn’t bring the smile to his eyes. He’d been ready for battle on the drive here, but now that he was inside he felt his resolve crumble a little. He’d known him since they were in diapers, their moms had been debutantes together for god sake; what was he supposed to do if this ended sour?

Knocked loose from his thoughts as the waitress, Gladys, who was probably here when the town began, brought him a steaming cup of coffee and ruffled his hair. He could do this, he just needed to man up. He’d fought in firefights thousands of miles in the sky, surely this would be easier.

“You’ve been here all summer and I swear it feels like we’ve barely seen you brother, where the hell you been?” Gavin says as he digs into his breakfast, chomping away at his pancakes with no idea what bomb is about to be dropped on him.

Jake wipes his sweaty palms on the front of his jeans as he stares intently on his steaming mug, drawing a shaky breath and preparing for the worst.

“I’ve uh- I’ve been seeing somebody. I know I should’ve been better about keeping in touch, just kinda got caught up in it. It’s why I asked you here bud, gotta talk to you about it before I explode if I’m honest.”

Gavin stops his Joey Chestnut impression long enough to look over Jake’s stoic exterior, and guffaws. Throws his head back and quite literally cackles.

“Ha- oh shit man, I’ve been waiting on you to spill the beans on this shit. You should see your damn face “we need to talk Gav, I’m in love.” Hahaha goddamn, if I’d known all it would take is my sister coming back into town to get you to settle down I'd have tried to play matchmaker years ago.”

Jake nearly drops his mug, eyes bugging out of his head.

“You- you know?! Jesus Christ Gav, I’ve been losing my shit over this for days, way to bury the lead.”

“Oh come on, you two haven’t exactly been subtle. For someone who is supposedly a stealth pilot, you sure don’t know how to hide a relationship. Also, if you’re going to fool around with her at mom and pop’s, might want to remember the walls are paper thin. We found you guys out weeks ago dude.” He goes right back to destroying his plate, like the two of them had been talking about sports scores and not the fact that Jake was definitely fucking Gavin’s baby sister.

“You don’t need my permission, and you definitely have my approval if you were really that worried. She’s harbored a crush for years, doesn’t surprise me in the least that she shot her shot. Just do me a favor, don’t make her wait too long before you propose, she’d probably say yes with a ring made out of napkins from the way she looks at you.”

He didn’t make you wait long at all, and crazy as it all sounded to his squad back in Fightertown when he showed up at the end of block leave with a fiancée, they knew he was hooked from the minute you introduced yourself. You transferred hospitals and made the move to California, and made his empty bachelor pad a home with all your fancy appliances and skincare products he couldn’t pronounce to save his life.

When you both had gotten all the boxes unpacked he laid you down in your shared bed and made love to you like he hoped he’d get to do for the rest of his life, he couldn’t wait to start a life with you, and maybe a baby.. or 5, but that would be a whole other discussion for another day.

———————————————————————————

🏷️ tagging- @roosterforme @nouis-bum @sebsxphia @teacupsandtopgun @sunsetsimpsblog @sio-ina-bottle @kissmecaitie @mynameismckenziemae @senawashere @seitmai-too @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @dizzybee03 @mygyn @jessicab1991 @djs8891 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @86laura11

[mariclerc]

Falling for you | cl16

Summary: thanks to a debt owed by your father you have to marry the boss of the mafia.

Warnings: angst, fake marriage, mafia au, mentions of blood and gunshots, 5 years age gap, mafia boss!Charles with a soft spot for reader and a little bit of fluff.

Part 2, part 3, part 4

You knew that your father was not a good person, and he is someone who is quite bad and incompetent towards you, for him you are just a pawn in the middle of his game and not his daughter. There is never a lack of mistreatment and shocking looks with him, but the worst of all is that due to a debt owed by one of his businesses, so he decided to make a forced marriage between his 22-year-old daughter and the head of the Monegasque mafia in order to "solve his debts."

So here you find yourself, tied to a fake marriage with le diable de monte carlo (the devil of monte carlo) and he is not someone very nice, let's say, he is not someone you like and you can assure that he doesn't like you either.

Now you are in an opulent living room bathed in the soft glow of a fireplace, Charles sits by the fire, a glass of amber liquid swirling in his hand, he looks a little troubled... Across the room, you clutch a throw pillow on the plush couch with downcast eyes, an awkward silence stretches between you two.

He sighs. “We should probably talk.”

You steal a glance at him, then quickly look away. “Talk? About what?” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

He sets down his glass. “This whole... situation, the marriage... your father.”

You tense up, your father's betrayal and your forced marriage are fresh wounds. “There's not much to say, is there? He owed you a debt with his business, and... Well, here we are.”

“It doesn't have to be like this. I know this isn't what you wanted.” he says looking at you.

You let out a sigh. “Of course it's not! My whole life has been a series of things I never wanted, thanks to him! And now I'm stuck in a gilded cage with a... a...” you say with a slightly rising voice.

You struggle to find the right words.

Charles rises an eyebrow. “A what?”

You feel your frustration bubbling up. “A… a fucking pretentious and arrogant idiot who thinks the world revolves around him and his fucking business!” you finally say.

The words tumble out, surprising even you, Charles stares at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

“So that's how you see me, huh?” he says chuckling. “It's pretty accurate I might say.” his voice is low and dangerous.

You take a shaky breath. “I… I don't know what I see! This whole thing is crazy. We barely know each other, and now we're married? It's all a damn fucking mess!” you say as tears form in your eyes.

You break down in tears, burying your face in the pillow. Charles hesitate for a bit, then rises and walks towards you, he sits beside you, a hint of gentleness in his movements.

“Hey... Look at me y/n.” he says softly, you sniffle and hesitantly lift your head, Charles meets your gaze, his expression is unreadable. “I know this is a huge mess... But maybe, there's a way to make it work... For both of us.” he swipe his thumb to clean your tears and he extends a hand hesitantly, you stare at it for a long moment, then slowly reach out and take it.

“Why are you being so gentle towards me all of a sudden?” you ask him shyly.

He shrugged. “Why not?” he whispered with a low voice. “Look, I may be a son of a bitch out there, but I can try to treat you nice inside of this big ass mansion.” he sighed. “I know we don't like each other and this sucks, but I don't think you deserve any more shit than you've already gotten.” he says softly.

You look at him perplexed, not knowing what to say to him, it is well known that he is arrogant and perhaps the most feared man in all of Monaco, but now he is giving you hints of a somewhat sweet side of him. Which is quite unexpected for you.

***

After that night a couple of weeks have passed, and the truth it's that he kept his word, outside he may be a son of a bitch, but inside the mansion he does everything possible to treat you well, as you deserve, but apart from that, it is the same monotonous routine and one or another event that you have to attend with him because of course, in front of the people you are his "wife", but you don't feel that way, you are simply with Charles to benefit your father and that's it.

The mansion is dark, the only light spilling from the city skyline outside the window, you're curled up on the bed, a book in your lap, but the words blur before your eyes and unease prickles your skin. Charles is at a late-night business meeting, and worry gnaws at you, he normally arrives late at night, but he must have already arrived home, usually if he arrives and you are asleep he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead, it is his way of telling you that he has arrived.

Suddenly, a crash shatters the silence and you hear the front door splinting open, a panicked gasp escape your lips. You scramble off the bed, heart hammering in your chest, footsteps pound into the apartment and your phone fumbles in your hand as you dial Charles' number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Then, the gunshots erupt and you scream, the sound raw with terror, scrambling for cover, you fling yourself towards the walk-in closet, slamming the door shut just as rough voices fill the room. You huddle in the darkness, phone clutched in one hand, the other pressed against your mouth to stifle your sobs. Every creak of the floorboards, every muttered word sounds amplified.

Minutes tick by like hours and, finally, more gunshots, followed by a tense silence. Your legs are like jelly, your breath ragged, then, the creak of the closet door turning slowly makes your heart lurch, you squeeze your eyes shut, tears stinging your cheeks hoping for the worst.

A hand, rough but surprisingly gentle, reaches out and covers your mouth. A warm body presses against yours, a familiar scent of leather and cologne filling your senses.

“It's okay, it's me baby, shhh...” You hear Charles low and urgent voice.

You open your eyes a crack, relief washing over you as you see Charles' face. He looks grim, his eyes narrowed, but there's a flicker of worry in them as they meet yours, his hands are stained a shocking red, making you gasp.

He scoops you up cradled in his arms, his voice a low murmur against your ear. “Don't worry tesoro, it's alright. You're safe now.” he says soothingly. (darling)

He carries you swiftly through the darkened mansion, his movements sure despite the blood on his hands. You bury your face in his chest, the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart a stark contrast to the chilling scene you narrowly escaped. He flips on the light of the hallway, revealing the extent of the carnage: there are bullet holes in the walls, furniture overturned, blood spatters staining the pristine white tiles. You cling to him, trembling and Charles rushes you into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He gently sets you down and reaches for the first-aid kit, his movements are efficient as he cleanses a small cut on your arm that you hadn't even noticed in your panic.

“Charles… what happened? Who were those men?” you asked with hoarse voice.

“Just some... business associates who overstepped their boundaries, that's all.” he says avoiding your gaze.

You frown, knowing he's not telling you everything, you reach out and touch the blood on his hand, your voice barely a whisper.

”Charles, is it… is it my father? Did he… he sent those guys?” you whisper terrified.

Charles meets your gaze, his face a mask of cold fury. “Let's just say, his people won't be bothering us anymore, I promise.” he says steely, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his hold both protective and fiercely possessive.

The silence after Charles' last words hangs heavy in the air, thick with unspoken emotions. You stare up at him, his hold on you a lifeline in the aftermath of the terrifying ordeal.

“Charles, I… I don't even know what to say.” you say with trembling voice.

He leans back a fraction, concern softening his features. “You don't have to say anything baby, not yet. Just… know that you're safe now. That's all that matters to me.” he says gently.

But the words tumble out before you can stop them, a flood of emotions breaking the dam.

“No, it's not all that matters. This whole thing… it's been terrifying, confusing. But… being here with you, even in the middle of this mess it felt different. Safe, somehow, and maybe… a little bit comforting.” you say as your eyes fill with tears again.

A flicker of surprise crosses Charles' face, quickly replaced by a warmth that takes your breath away. His thumb brushes away a stray tear from your cheek, the feeling of his fingertip on your face feels like a soft caress.

“Comforting, huh? That's an interesting word choice for a situation involving gunshots and gangsters.” he says with a low and husky voice.

You manage a weak smile. “But it's the truth! And maybe… that's because… because deep down, despite everything, despite how we got here… I think I… I might be starting to feel something for you, Charles.” you say with a small and shy voice.

The air crackles with unspoken confessions Charles stares at you, his gaze searching yours. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face, chasing away the shadows of violence.

He smiles at you, the dimples making him present on his face. “Well, that's a relief, because believe it or not, tesoro, I feel the same way as you do... you know, being stuck in a loveless marriage with a cute pretty girl wasn't exactly on my agenda either.” he chuckled. (darling)

You laugh, a shaky sound that breaks the tension. He leans in, his lips hovering close to yours.

“How about we forget the whole arranged marriage thing, and see where this… feeling… takes us?” he says with his voice above a whisper.

His eyes hold yours, a question and a promise all at once, your heart beats a frantic rhythm in your chest. There's a world of uncertainty ahead, but for the first time, you feel a flicker of hope.

“I think I'd like that.” you say while nodding and smiling again.

He closes the gap between you, the kiss was a little hesitant at first, then it deepens with a newfound tenderness. The taste of blood mingles with the salt of your tears, a stark reminder of the danger you narrowly escaped, but the kiss itself is a promise of something new, something hopeful. In the wreckage of your forced marriage, a seed of real love has begun to bloom between the two of you.

***

The following days after the break-in are a real-life nightmare for you, you constantly wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares and so on, but at the same time, there are moments of calm like the one you are experiencing now. You're curled up on the couch, a book in your lap, but your eyes keep drifting towards Charles, who's engrossed in paperwork at the coffee table.

Charles glances up, catching your gaze, he smiles, a genuine one that reaches his eyes, and sets down his pen. “Daydreaming again, I see, hm?” he asked you while smiling softly.

You blush, self-consciously tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Just… thinking about... How things have changed so much, so quickly.” you smile back at him.

He walks over and sits beside you, his arm brushing yours in a way that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Not all changes are bad, are they love?” he says lightly.

You shake your head. “Definitely not, especially not the ones that involve delicious takeout and avoiding gangsters all day.” you let out a soft giggle.

He chuckles, the sound warm and inviting. “Speaking of avoiding things, how about a change of scenery? A getaway? Just the two of us, before things get too… normal.”

The way he says "normal" makes you laugh... The normal life with Charles Leclerc, mafia boss (or ex-mafia boss, you haven't quite figured that out yet) is anything but normal in your book.

“A getaway? Where did you have in mind?” you asked intrigued.

He leans in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “How about Italy? We can go there and go unnoticed, plus it would be in a fairly quiet place where we wouldn't have to worry about anything or anyone, how does that sound chérie?” he says softly. (darling)

A mix of emotions washes over you – excitement and nervousness... But mostly, you feel a thrill of anticipation. Italy with Charles, on your own terms, feels like a new beginning.

“Italy, huh? Sounds… interesting.” you sighed. “When would we leave then?”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow? Pack your bags, tesoro. We're leaving the chaos behind and heading for sunshine, good food, and maybe a little bit of… romance.” he smiled and you could swear his eyes were shining.

Your heart skips a beat... Italy with Charles, a chance to explore a new side of him, a side free from the pressures of his past life. Maybe, just maybe, this trip could be the start of something truly extraordinary.

“Consider it packed! Let's go and see what Italy has in store for us.” you say with a bright smile on your face.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, his kiss a promise of adventure and a deeper connection waiting to be discovered, the weight of your past may linger, but as you break away from the kiss, you know with a newfound certainty that your future, unlike your forced marriage, is something you'll write together.

***

Rolling hills bathed in the golden light of the setting sun stretch out before you, lavender fields shimmer in the distance, and the air is fragrant with the scent of wildflowers and fresh herbs. You stand on a terrace overlooking this idyllic scene, a glass of chilled prosecco in your hand, Charles leans against the railing beside you, a contented smile playing on his lips.

“This is perfect. I can't remember the last time I felt this… peaceful.” you sigh contentedly.

He reaches out and takes a strand of hair that's escaped your messy braid, tucking it behind your ear.

“Me neither, maybe all we needed was a little sunshine and a whole lot of beautiful countryside to escape the chaos.” you turn to face him, your eyes meeting his.

The past few weeks in Italy have been a revelation. You've explored charming towns, tasted incredible food, and most importantly, discovered a side of Charles you never knew existed: a man who appreciates quiet evenings on the terrace, who laughs easily at your dumb jokes, and whose eyes hold a tenderness you haven't seen before.

You smile softly. “It's more than the sunshine, Charles, it's the feeling of starting over! Of leaving behind the expectations and the dangers... Here, we can just be us.”

He pulls you into a gentle embrace, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “Just us, and that's all that matters... Though, maybe a little less danger in the future would be nice.”

You laugh, the sound echoing across the quiet landscape.

“No promises, Mr. Leclerc. But I wouldn't mind a little less excitement for a while.” you said teasingly.

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours. “Speaking of Leclerc… this whole marriage situation. It's obviously not ideal... What do you... what do you want to do?” he speaks in a more serious tone.

You take a sip of your prosecco, considering your options... The truth is, being Charles' wife has opened your eyes to a world you never knew existed: It's thrilling, exhilarating, and sometimes terrifying. But one thing is certain - you don't want to lose him.

“How about we forget the whole arranged marriage thing? Let's start over, for real this time... Just Charles and y/n, seeing where this… feeling takes us.” you say softly while smiling confidently.

A slow smile spreads across Charles' face, brighter than the setting sun. He takes your hand, his touch sending a spark through you.

“Now that's an offer I can't refuse, so... Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Leclerc… Hold on tight, because the journey is exciting.” he said while grinning.

You laugh, the sound echoing through the Tuscan hills. In the distance, a church bell tolls, marking the end of the day. As you raise your glass towards the vibrant orange sky, you know that this new beginning, forged in the heart of Italy, holds the promise of a future brighter than any sunset.

A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the gentle rustling of leaves in the warm breeze.

Charles takes a long sip of his prosecco, then sets the glass down on the railing, he turns to you, his gaze intense.

“So, Ms. Y/n Leclerc. This new life… it doesn't start tomorrow... It starts right now, with you.” He says with a low, husky voice.

His words send a shiver down your spine, he steps closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His touch is warm, sending a delicious warmth through your body.

“There's something about this place, about you… it makes me want to be a better man, you know? The kind of man who deserves a woman sweet like you.” he continue speaking quietly, looking into your eyes.

You lean into his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. “You already are a good man, Charles... A complex man, yes, but you're trying to be such a good one.” you say with your voice barely a whisper.

He dips his head, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours. The last rays of the setting sun cast a golden glow on his beautiful face, highlighting the vulnerability in his eyes, a vulnerability that you have only been able to see on this trip.

“Then let me show you just how good I can be amore.” he said with his voice husky with desire.

He closes the gap between you, the kiss both passionate and tender. It's a kiss that speaks of new beginnings, of unspoken promises, and of a love that has blossomed amidst chaos and found its strength in a shared desire for peace.

As you pull away, breathless and exhilarated, you know that this kiss isn't just a moment in time, it's a declaration, a commitment to write your own story, together, under the warm Italian sky.

The stars begin to twinkle overhead, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of jasmine, Charles pulls you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively and you lean your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm. You know that this is the true beginning of something quite special between the two of you, something that you long for and so does he.

***

After a couple of days, you and Charles stroll hand-in-hand through the villa's sprawling gardens, the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers filling the air.

“I can't believe we actually own a place like this! It's so amazing and beautiful!” you say while smiling.

Charles squeezes your hand as you spot a vine laden with ripe figs and reach up to pluck one, Charles watches you with a fond smile.

“Careful there piccola mia, don't get too carried away.” he says teasingly. (little one)

You toss the fig into your mouth while closing your eyes, savoring the sweet, juicy flavor. “I can't help it Cha! Everything here is so delicious and sweet.” you say giggling.

Charles steps closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I'm glad you like it... But I think there's something even sweeter here.” he says leaning in.

He dips his head and kisses you softly, his lips lingering on yours and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer towards you.

“I'll take that as a compliment!” you smile.

He pulls away, his eyes still filled with warmth.

“A compliment? More like a promise chérie, a promise of many, many more delicious things to come... And I have a few ideas on my mind.” he says while smirking. (darling)

You playfully swat at his arm, but he just laughs, catching your hand and holding it tightly, together, you wander through the gardens, picking figs, grapes, strawberries, and juicy tomatoes. Charles playfully gives you nicknames based on the fruits and vegetables you pick.

“You're my little figgy, picking all the sweetest fruits.” he says while tickling.

You giggle, trying to swat away his tickling fingers. “Stop it Charlie! I'm not a figgy, I'm a tomato girl!”

Charles pretends to pout.

“A tomato girl? How disappointing, I was hoping for a little fig girl, someone sweet and juicy.” he says in a dramatic way.

You roll your eyes, but you can't help but smile. “Oh, please. You'd be lucky to have a tomato girl like me!” you chuckled.

Charles leans in and kisses your cheek. “Lucky? Oh, baby, i'm the luckiest man in the world because I have you by my side.”

You blush, your heart fluttering in your chest. As you continue to wander through the gardens, picking fruits and vegetables, you feel a sense of peace and contentment washing over you... This is more than just a gateway, it's a chance to start fresh, to build a new life together as a married couple, away from all the chaos and danger of your past. And with Charles by your side, you know that anything is possible.

[revasserium]

Can I request any windbreak characters (headcanons) of your choosing reacting to their s/o ending up in the hospital beacause if a rival gang targeting them?

reqs are open!

the beautiful and damned

sakura, suo; 911 words; fluff, slight angst, implied bodily harm, lapslock, no "y/n", hurt/comfort kinda i guess?, very!drabble, suo being... suo

a/n: sry i only did sakura and suo... currently i've only got the muse for these two tho i did consider tossing umemiya in there lmao; maybe next time...

falling backwards — sakura

it can take the body up to twenty-minutes to cycle through an average fight-or-flight response though he’s always prided himself in staying for the fight.

seeing you in the hospital bed for the first time was a masterclass in the concept of flight — or rather, in falling. of the ground crumbling beneath him, of his stomach going momentarily weightless before sinking and sinking, of his lungs calcifying inside his chest till it physically stings to breathe.

“i’m alright,” you say, waving him off, but for the first time, his knee-jerk reaction isn’t to punch something — it’s to topple into the chair by the door and bury his face in his hands.

“you’re alright…” he says, his mouth forming around the words like learning to speak for the very first time, and then again, “you’re alright.” the says the words like a prayer answered, like exaltation, like a promise to himself made and broken and mended back again.

you cast him a wide smile, though he doesn’t miss the way you wince and your hand jumps up to the bandage wrapped around your forehead.

“it really looks worse than it is… i just got scratched so they had to bandage up my head but the wound was really shallow so —”

he makes his way over to your bedside and tugs you into his chest, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the harsh, florescent light of the hospital room. for a second, your voice is muffled against his shirt but then you go quiet in his arms, you go soft, and there’s a terrifying moment when he wonders if he’s held on too tight —

“sakura?”

“you’re… alright.”

he slumps down on the bed next to you, reaching for your hands. you let him take them, let him study them. there are a smattering of bruises along your arms, but nothing’s broken, no lasting damage. he leans down to press his forehead to the backs of your hands; you feel the heat simmering beneath his skin, stark and startling against your cool fingers.

“yeah. i’m alright. and… you’re okay too,” you say, flipping a hand over to cup his face, to lift his head up to meet your gaze. he nods, slowly, leaning into your touch.

“yeah… i think i will be.”

here are the monsters — suo

there are a few things suo hayato knows to be true: he’s a good fighter, even one of the best in the freshman year, that green tea should be brewed at 75 to 80 degrees, and that whoever did this will pay.

“tell me who did this.”

his voice is light, almost conversational, and nothing in his expression betrays the bright red fury curdling just beneath the thin veneer of his calm. you eye him warily, and he smiles sweetly, cocking his head to one side as he waits for your answer.

“hayato…”

“hm?”

you sigh, leaning back in your hospital bed and crossing your arms.

“if i tell you, promise you won’t go looking for a fight.”

suo pauses, considering your words, tallying them against his internal list of truths — he knows of the terrible risk of loving someone more than yourself, of the secret strength it grants you. he knows terror too, the kind that seems endless and dark and ever-expanding, a black hole of nothing that threatens to consume him when he’d first heard that you’d been hurt bad enough to warrant a night in the hospital.

but beneath that terror is something else — something with flashing teeth and shining claws that he does not have a name for but has felt flickering there for his whole entire life.

this is the monster, he thinks, that lives in us all.

the minotaur in the middle of the maze of self.

hungry and lonely and howling for blood.

“fine. i promise,” he says, putting his hands up.

you blink at him for a few seconds before your eyes narrow once more. you know him, and you know him almost too well.

“hayato, what aren’t you telling me?”

“i’ll tell you if you tell me who did this.”

after another second’s pause, you sigh and list off a few names — the perpetrators to this great crime. kids, too, from another school’s gang.

“it’s par for the course, isn’t it?” you say, your voice tightening slightly as suo nods and gets to his feet. he takes his time, stretches, leans down to drop a sweet kiss into your hair, “i knew what i was getting into when i agreed to date you so…” your voice trails off as suo makes for the door, humming lightly.

“where’re you going?” you ask.

he pauses by the door, “for a walk and… maybe a friendly chat with some kids at the school the next county over.”

“hayato! you promised you wouldn’t go looking for a fight!”

at this, suo’s expression shifts ever so slightly. it’s in the slant of his mouth and the sharpness of his eyes, the way his voice is smooth as starlight but his words have all their vowels seeped in cyanide —

“oh i’m not going looking for a fight… but you see, the second they put a hand on you, the fight already found it’s way to me.”

---

@houseofsolisoccasum

[c0kitty]

NOW PLAYING ... NOBODY KNOWS ft. spider-women!ellie x reader

“…BUT NOBODY KNOWS MY LITTLE SECRET.”

(⭑) summary: r/reddit, when’s the best time to tell your girlfriend of three months, (who you are so desperately in love with) you are that "crazy" vigilante on the news, fighting crime in a spider-suit, and that you now shoot fucking webs out of your wrist. (⭑) content: wc 1.2k+ nerd!ellie. confessions. making out. comfort. spider-man!ellie. established relationship. suggestive. insecure!ellie. HEAVILY inspired from the roof-top scene in tasm bcs im obsessed. cursing.

you guys find yourself on the roof-top of dina’s-friend’s apartment, for a random party, celebrating god-knows what. it's slightly chilly, you stand next to ellie with her oversized jacket on you; despite ellie telling you numerous times it was going to be cold, she was not one to refuse you.

ellie wished she had her camera right now; outside’s a pretty scene with the many buildings scattered, the sky, gradually transitioning into yellow and pink hues, night unfolding, and you, looked so pretty by her side. 

the city below though remains bustling with constant movement, and ellie's mind is no different. because today was going to be the day —

ellie’s hazel-green eyes shift towards you, observing your soft expression, her heart ached with uncertainty as she wondered if you would hate her — hate her for lying, hate her for not being normal, hate her for having so much baggage. hate her for being spider-women. 

“you think dina and jesse are shagging?” you ask, randomly, breaking the comfortable silence. your hands moves to the railing, casually pushing yourself backwards on it.

“saw dina sneakin’ out at 1 am, like she was a teenager. so, yeah, definitely.” 

also due to ellie’s super-senses, she had heard so many “private,” conversations with him and dina she wished to unhear.

you nod your head, turning your attention towards ellie. “so, why do you seem so te—”

“i need to say something,” 

you guys both interrupt each other, it elicits a small giggle from you. “okay... is this about before? is that the reason you’ve been so pissy tonight?” 

you were hinting about earlier. when someone had hit on you, even with you being on ellie's lap, her arms even wrapped at your waist. it irritated the hell out of ellie, leaving her to characteristically run her mouth at em'. 

you almost had to drag her away to stop the growing commotion.

ellie sports a slight pout at her pink-lips. “it’s not my fault men can’t get fucking context clues, it’s a wonder they survive. and i haven’t been “pissy” i—” you raise your eyebrows in response, conveying a silent ‘you sure?’ ellie stops talking, only rolling her eyes.

“okay, whatever, maybe i was but, it's not about that,” ellie wasn’t sure how to start this conversation without sounding crazy or scaring you.

“...i was bitten,” ellie says, bushy brows slightly furrowing.

your head tilts, “that’s a little ominous.” ellie rethinks; maybe that wasn’t a good way to start.

“nevermind. you know, when i was sick. that whole two weeks, couple months back.” you nod your head, “yeah, you said you were sick. projectile vomit and shit. couldn’t lift a finger because it was so bad.” damn, ellie forgot she said all that.

“yeah, um sorry. i lied about that.” before you could say anything, lips pulled into a frown, ellie blurts: “i’m spider-man,” finally with a breath. you’re staring at her, but she can’t decipher your expression. unconsciously, ellie bites at her bottom lip.

silence fills the moment, and ellie finds it unbearable; suddenly, in just a second, your face relaxes. “oh, wait. you’re fucking with me. els thought you were serious for a second.”

ellie was regretting playing pranks on you so much, “i’m not fucking with you,” ellie’s arm cross, unconsciously flexing in the process, but you only a grow smile on your lips, like this was some ongoing joke. “jesus, stop smiling — it’s not a joke y/n,”

“i’ve known you all my life ellie — i think i would know if you were fighting crimes with iron-man,” you ignore her, releasing the bar. “wait just w—”

“lets go els, please. it’s getting cold and i’m tired,” you say, making your move toward the door; but in a quick reaction, ellie’s translucent webs shoots out her wrist, spinning you around til’ you're close, her hands, now holding at your waist.

you’re staring at her, eyes widened comically, and your mouth parted, seemingly trying to process what just happened. ellie's attention was drawn to something else though; light in the distance, drunken footsteps heading their way. 

“you just fucking — shot webs out your hands, ellie! you’re sp—” 

ellie didn’t have much time to think it through, because as soon as the drunkards stumble in, ellie's lips, soft and sweet, press into yours.  “..shh,” ellie whispers, faint to your lips — trying to calm you down.

a small gasp leaves your mouth. but after a second, hearing the commotion behind you; you get the message, relaxing yourself into the kiss.

ellie's kisses are usually greedy, but tender, her hands would rummage your body confidently, possessively pulling you in. but this kiss, its … different. it’s tentative, hesitant, like she was afraid to push.

at that, you try to make her feel comfortable with a subtle touch beneath her loose black-shirt. your lips, coated in strawberry gloss, glides seamlessly over hers, giving her a little push; and it works.

ellie tongue pushes in hastily, its smooth tracing from your lips to your tongue. her moppy-brown hair tickling your chin as she eases in the kiss, embracing the subtle buzzing in her chest. 

you hear the people leave, and it’s silent now, besides the busy cars. “ellie… t–” 

“one more second,” she grumbles, you wanted to keep going, but you still had a lot to say — questions cycling. so you pull away, with a gentle smack of the lips.

she lets out a small groan in response; her cheeks dusted in pink and round eyes flutter open, looking at you in a wistful gaze.

“so… you’re spider-man. well, spider-woman,” you finally say, exhaling. ellie’s eyes shift to the floor. her hands drop from you, and instead, runs through her hair anxiously. “yeah. i know it’s fucked up, and weird. i should’ve told you, warned you, but i—”

you interrupt her depressive rambles, “no, ellie i mean it’s cool, you’re cool. it’s just, fuck.” you take a breath, throwing your hands up. “i was just surprised because you’re, like, nerdy and cute, and then … spiderman, you know?”

ellie’s eyes lifted to meet yours, “relieved” couldn’t fully capture how she felt, but all she could managed to say was: “oh, okay. that’s great, yeah.”

a silence falls between you two in response to ellie’s awkwardness, exchanging glances; both of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“i feel like i should feel offended though, ‘nerdy?’” you playfully nudge at her feet, “you know what i mean. passionate about space, introverted, so obsessed with your grades. it’s like a text-book definition,” ellie couldn’t really deny that, so she just playful rolls her eyes instead.

“...but you know what’s crazy, i had a small tiny crush on spider–man, well you, before we officially dated.” 

ellie’s lips curve into a smile, “so now you get the best of both worlds, huh.” ellie comes closer to you, hands finding their place to your body. "i bet you dreamed of both of us fighting over you, hm?”  

in the quietness that follows, your eyes drift away from ellie, intentionally avoiding her gaze. ellie could tell there was more story to your silence, “wait — did you have a wet dream about spider-man and m—” she begins, but you swiftly cover her mouth.

“...shut it,” you say beyond flustered, which only intensifies ellie's curiosity.

[targaryenluvs]

— meant to be

pairing: percy jackson x fem!gf!reader, dark!luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: as if it wasn’t enough for percy to be claimed much quicker than himself, he just had to be with luke’s dream girl. or the one where luke can’t seem to take his eyes off of percy’s girlfriend.

warnings: obsession, jealousy, pining, unrequited love, age gap (14/16 to bring it closer together so aged up percy n you) manipulation

wordcount: 850 words

a/n: heheh in the mood to drive luke to hate percy for having the girl he’s always wanted even though percy had her first - 5/01/24 it’s been brought to my attention the ages might be seen as odd, it’s meant to say you’re 14 and luke is 16 to make it more comfortable.

he didn’t deserve you at all, he wasn’t worthy.

luke could treat you better than a child. when you’d first arrived he couldn’t believe the fact that percy himself was your boyfriend. you were too gorgeous to be with such a clueless idiot.

so he tried his best to at least be your friend in the start.

always accompanying you from your cabin, to breakfast, somehow always ending up at the front of the line with as much food you could wish for. always enthralling you with tales of the time before you arrived. letting you know about the camp, the people, who to watch out for and who to be friends with.

as if he’d let you be with anyone else besides him.

during training he was always more than happy to help you, to teach you, to be close to you. fixing your posture, positioning you properly. he could imagine himself and you, his girlfriend, protecting and helping her. but his bubble was always burst when percy would make his way to you with a smile, talking about what he’d just learnt and the people he’d just met.

in the two days you’d been there you felt yourself trusting luke.

your sweet smile made everything better in his day, but he despised it when it wasn’t directed towards him. percy’s arm around your waist, your head on his shoulder, percy tying your hair up for you, your hands wiping the dust off of him when he fell.

luke wouldn’t have fallen, luke wasn’t that stupid.

luke could hold his own, whilst percy seemed to stumble his way through everything.

he had to hold himself back from strangling percy when walking with him. he was only aiding percy in finding his ‘special skill’ because you’d asked him to. and all luke learned from the experience was that percy was an imbelice. he couldn’t do anything right.

what on earth did you see in him?

you couldn’t sleep, thinking of your quest tomorrow. usually they were taken on by three but percy insisted on anabeth, grover and you. which you were glad for, grover was your friend as well as anabeth, you’d just hoped that all four of you will make it back.

the water was calm, you wondered if it was because of percy being sound asleep. did percy control the waters around him?

your silly questions ran through your head ever since your boyfriend had been claimed. yourself and percy were having the time of your life together, on a journey together. that night the two of you had sat right here, worries running around, the two of you reassuring eachother with promises of safety and return.

his sweet smile, his pretty curls, you loved him with your whole heart, even if you were young.

“y/n?” luke called out to you as you waved, “luke! come to say goodbye?” you teased as he laughed, “sadly yes, how are you feeling?” the night enveloped the two of you in darkness, eachothers presence comforting the other. “as fine as a girl about to go on a literal quest out of a damn movie would be.”

his arm came around you, pulling you into him, “what’re you doing?” you questioned luke, unsure of the close proximity. “it’s fine, calm down.” he pushed your head down into his shoulder, mimicking your earlier actions with percy, minus the love.

you lifted your head quickly, trying to stand up but luke dragged you back down, “get off! let me go luke, i want to go sleep.” his grip was harsh on your wrist, “stop shouting, do you want to make a fuss about the whole camp?” that shut you up quickly, you weren’t exactly in the mood to start up a scene in the middle of the night.

“why don’t you let me go then?” you whispered to him. “why are you going on the quest?” he asked, his eyes were darkened with anger, his tone unwelcoming, a clear juxtaposition to luke’s previous warm embrace of yourself and percy.

“percy wants me to, and i want to. that’s all anyone seems to wait for around here, glory.” he let go of your wrist, speaking with a soft voice, the entire change of his demeanour was off-puting. “shouldn’t you be enough? why does he want annabeth to come along?” you cocked your head to the side confused, “you of all people know how amazing she is, anabeth is the biggest asset to have and an incredible fighter luke.” he loved when you said his name but the sadness in your voice was evident and irritating, almost as much as your boyfriend.

“percy should trust you, believe in you to help him.” and the seed of doubt was in place successfully.

“i don’t know okay! but it’s not like i can stop it, goodnight luke.” you didn’t want to give him a chance to stop you, so you jogged back to your cabin, unsettled and confused.

luke slept nicely that night.

luke would make sure you saw him, all of him.

and how much better he was then percy, you were meant to be.

[mimasroom2]

Hot tub time ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

Ellie x reader modern au/slice of life

I have a hot tub but we need to get it fixed. I’m literally so eager so I wrote this LMAO. I LOVE SLICE OF LIFE ELLIE X READER SM!! Expect a bunch more, I have so many ideas written down😚 Im so sappy grrrr,,, I already wrote kinky ass sex so here’s soft sex for u guys😋

C/w: smut lol. Ellie + reader have their own house YAHOO! A bit of fluff in this one >•<. Au but Joel is still dead 😞. He’s mentioned like once. Cunnilingus😝 (r! Receiving) I feel so awkward using y/n like seriously and unironically ahhhh.

W/c: 2.4k

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

“I’m actually so fucking bored I’m gonna gouge my eyes out.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. Ellie is always so damn dramatic. You glance over and she’s pretending to pull her hair out, large fistfuls in each hand.

You playfully shove her, “Okay, shut up Ellie.” And you both laugh. It was winter, and she was right… sadly. There was nothing to do during this time of year. Well, besides stay in and cuddle. The only problem was.. you’ve already done that. You two were both off work for the holidays, and you’ve already spent the wholeeeee vacation laying in bed together, so you guessed that Ellie wanted to do something a little more active.

“Wanna play Mario kart? I think the switch is in the bedroom.” You try suggesting, absentmindedly rubbing her leg.

“Nah,” she stretches her arms out on the couch, “Somethin’ more like physical yknow. Gotta keep these pretty muscles toned.” She winks at you, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re actually such a gym rat, you should just live there at this point.” You smirk to yourself, examining your nails.

“Maybe if I did I wouldn’t constantly trip on all the shit you leave around here.” Ellie remarks back, lightly kicking you on the knee.

“Hey, I keep it pretty clean considering we both share a room, thank you very much.” You cross your arms and huff.

Ellie gasps and starts kicking you more, so you yelp and start shoving her away. Suddenly she stops, holding out both her hands. “Holy fuck, babe. Yknow what I forgot about?”

“Huh.”

“Hot tub.”

You sit up at lighting speed, “OH DAMN YOURE RIGHT!” You actually can’t believe you forgot about that thing. You try to remember the last time you even used it.. must have been last summer. The hot tub was one of things that you’re OBSESSED with at first, but then you use it one too many times and you forget about it for a couple months. And then the cycle continues.

Ellie leaps off the couch and bolts down the hall. “GET YOUR SWIMSUIT ON WE ARE GOING IN!!”

~

You come outside and see Ellie lifting up the top of the hot tub. The whole things underneath a roof outside, so there’s not much snow in the porch where you two are standing, but it’s still really cold. You look up at the sky. The sun is starting to set, it’s been a little over an hour since you two had dinner. Delicious deer soup that Ellie made from when she went hunting a couple days ago. You always said that if Ellie was stuck in a post apocalyptic world, she would survive.

You suddenly remember the cold air hitting you, breaking you out of your thoughts of your girlfriend. You shiver, and pull the robe you’re wearing tighter around your body. You glance over at Ellie still messing with the top of the hot tub. All Ellie’s wearing is her classic swimsuit: plain black top and swim shorts. Her tattoo flexes as she finally pops the top off and turns the hot tub on.

You jump up and down in your slippers, trying to move to stay warm. “Ellieeee how much longer?”

She reaches down into the water and starts poking around at the buttons and jets. “Hold your horses, y/n, I gotta check all the filters n shit. Haven’t used this in a hot minute.”

“Mmmm I know but it’s cold.” You groan in protest. You know damn well you’re being a brat, but you swear you’re not built for any weather too hot or too cold.

“Well you wanna shut up and help me? Make it go by faster..” She looks up at you and you shake your head vigorously. “Yeah thas’ what I thought.” She smirks at you.

After what felt like foreverrrrr in the cold, Ellie turns the jets on and says you can hop in. There’s steam coming off the water as it hits the cold air. You can barley wait, you’re hyping the hot tub up in your mind. It’s something that feels like a luxury to you. The only thing that can make you stop thinking about your precious hot tub is your precious Ellie. You look up at her and get butterflies, even though you two have been dating for about 2 years now. She looks soooo beautiful, just standing there, folding up the tarp from the tub. You shake your head, thinking it’s so damn stupid to be drooling over your girlfriend who’s literally just standing there, doing the most mundane possible thing.

Some snow falls on top of your head so you brush it off. It’s getting too cold for you. You lick your lips, turning around to shed your rob, you’re still slightly shy undressing in front of Ellie, even though you’re still in a swimsuit. You hang your cute pink robe up on the hook where the towels you brought out are.

Turning back around to head into the tub, you see Ellie with her back towards you, messing around with the water guns from last summer. You check her out unapologetically, looking at her ass before you snap into reality again and take your slippers off to step into the hot tub. The hot water feels like it burns your skin, compared to the cold winter air. You take a couple minutes slowly sliding more of your body deeper into the water.

Ellie turns around, with one water gun still in her hand. “Feel alright, babe? Not too hot?”

You sink in deeper, up to your neck, “Mm feels good.” And then rise up again slowly, “Come in, Els. I’m gettin’ bored in here.”

“Oh yeah?” She closes one eye and lifts up the gun, suddenly shooting a short stream of cold ass water at you. “Not so bored now, huh?” She laughs and walks closer to you.

Your jaw drops and you scream when the water hits you, “ELLIEEEEE WHAT THE FUCKKKK!”

“What?” She fakes a pout, lowering the water gun. “I told you I gotta keep these muscles in good shape, right?”

Before you can retort, she’s already getting in the hot tub. “God, shove over. I’m freezing.” She accidentally splashes you as she’s hastily getting in.

“Ellieeeee! Don’t splash me! >~<“ you whine, but she just laughs, and this time splashes you on purpose. You sigh dramatically at all her antics.

She doesn’t reply, and just sinks in deeper, and you take no shame in watching her stretch her body out. Ellie groans slightly at the hot water enveloping her body. You sigh and blink at her, watching her eyebrows furrow. She slowly leans her head back against the headrest of the hot tub. You swear she’s egging you on, because she moans softly, giving you the perfect view of her neck, which she knows is your favorite place to kiss her. Suddenly, Ellie opens her eyes and says something that breaks you out of the trance you’ve had all day, “You keep lookin’ at me. What’s goin’ on?”

You let yourself float away from her in the water ever so slightly, “Nothing. I’m not looking at you.”

“Yknow I can like,,, feel your eyes burning into my back whenever you stare at me.”

You cover your face with your hands and

face away from her. She laughs to herself. She finds it so cute you still get flustered around her even after all this time you’ve been together.

“That’s too bad because I’m reallyyyy not looking at you.”

Instead of a snarky remark back, Ellie’s abnormally silent. You slowly bring your hands down to face her again, and she’s just looking at you with this look in her eyes. You think it’s somewhere in between concern and contemplation. “You trust me, right?” She says softly, after a few moments. You’re surprised, this is probably the quietest Ellie’s ever been with you.

“Of course I do. What’s wrong, Ellie?” Her tone is completely different than what you’re used to. This only happens on the rare occasion you guys have a disagreement. Or when you talk about something serious.

“Jus’ don’t want you thinking I’m gonna leave you.” She says, almost ashamed. She’s fidgeting with her fingers like how she always does, and avoiding your gaze.

You laugh softly. “Were you….. going to?” You can feel your heart rate speeding up.

Ellie’s eyes widen, “No. no no no.” She sighs, slowly, taking a few moments to collect her thoughts. “I get scared thinking about the future.” She mutters.

You look up at her. You knew Ellie gets scared. Of course she does. When she told you about Joel dying on what, your second date, you knew she’s not as… sturdy.. as she pretends to be sometimes. But that was in the past, and to hear Ellie admit she is worried about her own life ahead of her.. honestly made you surprised.

“Like.. I just want you to know that I’m always gonna be here for you.” She looks so concerned, like she might cry if you guys talk about this for any longer. She’s still looking down, trying to make herself smaller.

“Oh, Ellie.” You raise your hand up and softly tilt her chin to look at you. “I know. Okay? And nothing bad is gonna happen to you. Or me. Or us.”

She looks into your eyes for a second, before she gently tucks your hair behind your ear, leans in, and kisses you.

The kiss is as soft as she’s been talking - all emotion and thought as her lips move slowly against yours. She puts her hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. You sigh into the kiss. She was so tender with you right now. You were so used to fervent and desperate make out sessions with her. Not that that was bad, at all, but you didn’t realize how nice of a change this was until it was happening. You grab her waist, pulling her in closer to you. All of her is so soft and warm against you: her lips, tattooed arm, thighs.. and not just because you two were in the hot tub.

She pulls away to look at you, and you want to melt from the look on her face. She looks like she’s actually in heaven.

“I really love you.”

You smile softly at her, tracing over her tattoo lightly with your finger. “I love you too.” You pull her back into a kiss. After a couple more minutes, she’s more intent with her movements, like how she usually is. She’s not afraid to run her hands over your thighs and squeeze you nipple under your swimsuit.

You gasp at the sudden contact, and moan a little into her mouth.

She pulls away, “Cmon, baby. Need more of that.” and kisses you again, almost immediately licking your bottom lip, asking for entrance. She’s not as soft anymore, back to her usual self wanting to make you moan in pleasure as she works your body. You don’t even try fighting for dominance, just letting her tongue dance around yours as she pleases.

“Ellie…” is all you have to say, and she understands, shifting her position to let you have more of her. You want to press yourself down onto her, and please you both at the same time. You lift your legs up, trying to hook them around her, but you start floating away in the water. You’re not even going fast, it’s so comical how slow the jets are pushing you. You snort and reach out to grab Ellie’s hand.

“Ohmygod!” Ellie starts laughing and she grabs your hand, “Can’t exactly scissor in the water, I guess.” You blush and scoff at how forward she can be.

“Cmere. Let’s get ya propped up.”

You untie the knots on you bikini bottoms to take them off, tossing them somewhere you’ll pick up later. She grabs your hand and gently guides you to sit on the edge of the hot tub, on one of the corners so you don’t lean back and fall off. She brings your arm down to her face, and kisses you on the back of the hand. You smile and giggle. You swear you feel like a little girl again. You’re a princess and Ellie is your prince. You glance up at the sky - the sun is setting. An array of orange and pinks.

Ellie’s below you, turning down the jets of the tub a little, and getting into her favorite position: right between your thighs. You really couldn’t ask for a more perfect fantasy if you tried.

“This okay?” She asks, lightly rubbing your thigh with her thumb.

“Yes,” you breathe out, “please, Ellie.”

From where she is, you’re practically a goddess towering above her. You feel powerful and confident, and fucking desperate, wanting Ellie to just devour you already.

Ellie only hums in response before kissing your clit. You gasp sharply, you swear no matter how many times she eats you out you could never get used to the heavenly feeling. Her tongue starts lapping you up, and you moan loudly. You silently thank the neighbors for never being outside late during the winter, and that the hot tub is reasonably private, so no one can see you.

Maybe it’s just the cold frigid night air in comparison to Ellie’s warm, wet mouth, but you swear this is some of the best head she’s ever given you. Ellie never stopped licking and kissing at your clit - eventually she didn’t know if you were shaking from the sex or shivering because of the cold, but either way, she could tell from the volume of your moans that you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Mmmmmm- gonna cum soon..”

Ellie just nods, her face still buried into you. You can feel her cute little nose bumping up against you, and both her hands are up on your knees, spreading your thighs open for her.

She knows you’re close when you start whimpering and gasping for air.

“Ohmygod ohmygod Ellie,, fuck- you’re gonna make me cum..”

As soon as you warn her you’re throwing your head back, and your hips snap up as your orgasm takes over you. She keeps licking you clean until your breathing slows and you let yourself sink back down into the hot water.

You can’t even think of anything to say, so you grab Ellie’s arm and wrap it around you, as a way to ask her to cuddle you.

“Always such a cuddle bug after you cum..” Ellie mutters, mostly to herself, as she rests her head on yours.

You just chuckle and look up into the sky as the sun finally sets. You sigh in and out the cold winter air. Ellie kisses the top of your head, whispering one more ‘I love you’ as she pulls you closer into her arms.

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

[zae-heeyyy]

Erudition

Summary: Arthur teaches you how to read. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,790 Tags: smut, high honor Arthur Warnings: 18+ MDNI

a/n: I spent an unnecessary amount of time perfecting this one. Tried my hand at sketching/tracing/cut and pasting pieces of Arthur's original journal to make this one (don't look at it too close lol). Hope you enjoy!

Edit: If you didn’t know, it was common for adults to be illiterate in 1899 due to the lack of widespread public education.

erudition: the quality of having or showing great knowledge or learning; scholarship.

Poor Hosea had tried everything in an effort to teach you how to read: encouraging you with kind words first, then employing tough love tactics when your stubbornness hindered your progress. On one particular day, you had enough of each other. In a rare moment of weakness, he slammed his hand on the table when you refused to try.

"Wanna be an illiterate ninny your whole life, do ya?" A scowl etched deep lines on his face, and you stormed off, not saying a word. A cough riddled him, and he bowed his head in part frustration and part regret for letting himself lose his temper with you. He only wanted the best for you, even if you didn't want it for yourself.

A particular contemplative cowboy had been watching a short distance away, a pattern Hosea had noticed lately. Still coughing, he waved him over.

"Ah, Arthur. I know you're smarter than you look. Maybe you can reach that girl. I've done all I can, I fear." He pressed the book into Arthur's hand in more of a silent demand than a request. Arthur nodded in understanding, sighing, wondering how he'd been demoted from gang enforcer to teacher.

Cursing under your breath, you prayed that Arthur would just walk away, not because you didn't like him, but because you liked him too much. You and the other women got a kick out of watching him do chores around camp, his shirt nowhere to be found. He was damn gorgeous and didn't have a clue. Nobody else had a clue, either, that you wanted him. You wanted him in many ways and cared about what he thought of you.

The hope that he'd refuse Hosea's request or come another time fell short when his figure towered over you, shading you from the high noon sun. You kept your head bowed, refusing to meet his gaze until he tapped the book's hardback cover, bidding for your attention. Your eyes met his sheepishly. Reading him did not come easy either, especially in your interactions. Something about the way he carried himself around you left you feeling unsettled. There was a perpetual tension that he seemed to shed in the company of anyone but you. You didn't quite get it, though, because he always remained gentlemanly despite it all.

"C'mon." A sculpted, outstretched arm reached down to you, and you took it reluctantly, letting him lift you up from your spot. Following close behind, you let him lead you to the outskirts of camp near a boulder and a broken wagon. The cacophony of camp faded away as you joined him on the ground, your backs against the rock. You sat expectantly, concentrating on your fidgeting hands and fighting off the urge to cry.

"You just gotta focus," he said, opening the book to where you last left off and putting it back in your hands. Shaking your head, you tried to blink away hot tears building up behind your eyes.

"Don't want you to think less of me, Arthur. Don't wanna do it." Keeping your voice steady and suppressing the lump in your throat proved increasingly futile.

"Hush and focus." His tone only made the mystery of him hazier. How could he so easily switch between evil debt collector, out for blood, to nothing short of a gentle giant, so comforting and protective? The thought only made your vision cloud up more.

Blinking rapidly, you took a deep breath to calm yourself before reading the words on the page aloud. You could only get through the first sentence before your voice betrayed you, shaking unevenly, accompanied by a saline drop rolling down your face and onto the page.

"Hey..." Arthur clutched your chin and turned it to face him, forcing your eyes to heed his. "You gotta stick at things. I know it's hard, but that ain't no reason to cry about it." A rough thumb wiped away your tears. He scooted closer to you, wrapped one arm around your shoulders, and held the book with the other hand. "Just relax. It's just me and you out here. I ain't gonna think less of you or let anybody else, for that matter. Forget about all that." You held one side of the book with your left hand, and he had the other with his right, " Here, start again, slow now."

Goosebumps prickled your skin as a wave of calm washed over you. Arthur stayed patient while you composed yourself and read through twice, the second time outshining the first. He nudged you with his elbow, flashing a toothy grin. "See? Not so bad," he remarked. With another breath, not as shaky as your other ones, you closed the book and returned it to him, feeling more accomplished than you had in a while.

Now that your attention wasn't being spent so much, the pounding in your ears grew louder, the source of the sound leading to none other than the relentless beating of your heart. The musk of tobacco and leather infiltrated your nose, making you suddenly aware of how close you were to him. He removed this arm from your shoulders, the missing weight of it making you feel unexpectedly empty. Before he could scoot away some more, you turned to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, Arthur, for helping me. I know I'm not easy to work with." He smiled shyly and dipped his head, avoiding eye contact. A silence fell between you, and you spoke again, dismissing yourself. "I should probably get back to it." You gathered your skirts to stand, and he wrapped his fingers around your wrist before you could walk away. Even though crimson had crept up in his ears and neck, he kept his face impassive as always.

"When Ms. Grimshaw can spare you, come find me, and we'll keep at it."

So you did. You'd meet in the clearing behind the rock on the rare moments of shared free time, continuing the routine, and you were getting better every day. Then, Arthur brought you a mystery book that he'd found or stolen, and it was nothing like a Penny Dreadful, too complex and challenging for you to decode. You felt like you'd taken one step forward and two steps back.

And just like you'd done with Hosea a few days ago, you tried to storm away from Arthur. You didn't get far before his hands were on your hips, dragging you down into his lap. Faces inches apart, his hot breath warmed your face as he spoke, eyes stern.

"You can't just throw a tantrum whenever life gets hard, woman." Huffing in defiance, you opened your mouth to argue, but you closed it promptly, keenly aware of the change in his demeanor. Your eyes were on his, but his were on your lips. He licked his own, face set with resolve. Letting his forehead press against yours, he kissed you. Without a thought, you kissed him back, melting into his arms. Gaze intense, he tore away from you, talking low and firm. "You're gonna sit your pretty self down and do this, alright?"

Your hand went absentmindedly to your lips, drawing them in as you tasted him. Who knew a kiss was all you needed? With a gentle shove, he settled you back on the ground beside him, retrieved the book, and opened it once more.

When you finished, you looked at Arthur, and he was staring back at you with a cocky grin. It was the first time you'd read with no mistakes. You threw yourself back into his arms, climbing into his lap, a knee on either side of him. Holding you firm by the waist, Arthur didn't hesitate to kiss you again this time, letting desire he didn't even know he had guide him to you. He could have you like that for hours, and he did, only easing his grip on you when you heard pans banging, alerting you to dinner.

Arthur had discovered the key to motivating you, and since then, you discovered a newfound love for reading. You eagerly awaited your lessons, knowing the handsome outlaw's lips would be there for you when you finished.

Arthur was happy to help, but it wasn't just about the makeout sessions for him. Of course, he could die a happy man with you on top of him, but he loved how your eyes lit up when you made progress. He loved seeing you feel confident. He loved making you happy.

Though he wouldn't dare complain, he couldn't help the nagging feeling that Hosea had knowingly arranged this? Arthur tried to go unnoticed in his subtle observations of you, attempting to conceal the fact that he was sweet on you and had been for a while.

"Can't con a conman, Arthur," his surrogate father once told him. Maybe that wasn't just about robbing. The gunslinger wanted you so bad after all this time, needed you, and hoped you needed him just as much. He'd made himself free today, waiting patiently for you to finish your chores, keeping himself occupied with minor tasks. Just as you finished, you watched him disappear behind the grass and head to your spot.

You joined him; the book rested in his lap while he smoked a cigarette. You took the cigarette from him, having a drag yourself and giggling at your own mischief. He snatched it back from you, pretending to be annoyed but smiling nonetheless. Taking one more puff, he snuffed it in the grass. Before he could make another move, you took the book from his lap, replacing it with yourself. Your hands went to the nape of his neck, drawing his lips into yours. He kissed you back, entertaining you momentarily, but withdrew with his hands still resting on your backside.

"Read first, then I'll take care of ya', sweetheart." His eyes were half-lidded, and his voice lowered a few octaves, both weighed down with desire. You huffed and unmounted the cowboy, opening the book and reading, anything to feel his touch again. As you finished the last paragraph, your attention shifted to his hand kneading circles into your thigh. Breath thickening, his other hand fell to the hem of your dress, making it ride up as his hand traveled slowly up your leg.

The reading grew choppier now, your attention too consumed by his touch. You stopped reading altogether when his hand snaked over your thigh, and three of his fingers pressed against a warm, damp spot in the center of your bloomers. Flushing, a faint gasp escaped you.

"Gonna need to get these off, darlin'," he huffed into your ear. Wasting no time, you tossed the book aside and lifted your hips to slide the garment down around your ankles. Desire almost overpowered him; he wanted to devour you, to have his fingers and face buried between you, but he had a job to do, and he always finished the job.

Stopping, he moved his hand from your heat to your thigh and reached across you to grab the discarded book. Clearing his throat, he thumped the book, "Another page." Incredulous, you blinked a few times, gawking at him.

"Arthur, how do you expect me to focus when—"

He cut you off with a curt whistle and a stony glance, "Shut it, woman, and read." His grip tightened on your thigh. Those pools of blue and stern tone sent another jolt through you; god, if only he knew what he did to you. Like you were hypnotized, you opened the book, still very aware of your aching womanhood. He kissed your neck, his chest vibrating with amusement.

"Good girl," he murmured in your ear.

You were wrapped around his finger figuratively, and you craved to be literally, too. As you began to read aloud again, his hand smoothed over your thigh and landed right where you wanted it. He glided a finger up and down that sacred site, stopping on your clit and rubbing tiny circles there. Involuntarily, you arched up into his hand, and his name fell off your lips in a moan, your focus tearing away from the printed words at your hands. Then he stopped, taking away that sweet attention you loved so much.

"Shhh...Keep going;" his voice was low and deep, and he kissed down your neck to your shoulder. He moved his hand back when you started again; it was the most fluent you'd ever read. You don't know how you managed. As soon as you finished the last word on the page, you tossed the book and grabbed Arthur by the hairs on the back of his head, tugging him towards you and tasting him. He groaned and let a finger slip inside of you.

You gasped at the invasion, raising your hips off the ground and tilting into him. Pressing his lips to your ear, he kissed it and whispered mischievously, "You tryin' to get us caught?" You could feel him smile against your ear, and you pulled him to you once more, letting his mouth muffle your sounds of ecstasy.

He loved the way you felt, so velvety, slick, and tight. He teased you, pumping you with just one finger, then lightly circling your clit just to stop and caress you all over. You knew, and he knew, that he could bring you to that peak at any moment, but he didn't want it to be over just yet. He'd dreamed what you felt like for so long, how you'd respond to him, and now that it was reality, he wanted to savor every minute.

You were rocking your hips now, trying to feel any semblance of friction, trying desperately to reach the climax that Arthur kept you right on the edge of.

Then he sank two more large digits inside, making you press your head on his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut. He waited for you to adjust, kissing your ear and talking you through the girthy new additions. His thumb back on your clit caused a shiver to run down you as you relaxed.

"There you go," he mumbled in your ear, and you knew it wouldn't be long then. His thumb never left, keeping a constant speed and pattern as he worked you. Your stomach burned as that sweet, sweet tension built inside of you. Arthur buried his face in your neck, focusing on bringing you bliss. "That's it, sweet girl. Give it to me."

He groaned along with you as your embrace on his fingers tightened, and your body shuddered. He kept his hand there as you came down, relishing in the way your insides squeezed and released him over and over again. His head spun when he removed his fingers from you; you were so wet, all for him. He'd been so focused on you that the bulge in his pants went unnoticed until now.

Meanwhile, you had replaced your bloomers and smoothed out your skirt, trying to reset after the fireworks behind your eyes had exploded. You giggled, seeing Arthur give attention to his own building arousal. You beamed at him, all cheeky and coy.

"I think I hear Ms. Grimashaw looking for me," you teased, standing and dusting your skirt. His face fell bewildered, and you couldn't look at him in fear that your innocent act would falter. "Gonna have to bed me properly if you want more, Mr. Morgan."

With that, you winked at him and walked away, leaving Arthur with just his hand and imagination to satisfy him. You'd decided to join Hosea at a table, taking a piece of discarded newspaper and reading it yourself. He watched, a proud smile growing on his face. It only took Arthur five minutes to calm himself, reappearing from the treeline with eagle eyes that focused only on you.

Crazed, he approached you, placing a heavy hand on the small of your back before removing it hastily, remembering he was out in the open now. Hosea's eyes shifted between you discerningly. He coughed and gestured to the paper in your hand. "Well, Arthur, it seems you're a better teacher than me, after all." Neither of you caught the hint of amusement in his voice. You patted Hosea's shoulder and stood.

"Thanks, old man. I love reading now. In fact, me and Arthur are gonna go to town right now for some more Penny Dreadfuls. We'll bring you another paper, too."

Arthur perked up at this new suggestion and followed after you, practically tripping over himself as you headed towards his hitched horse. Hosea returned to his newspaper, kicking his feet up and chuckling to himself knowingly. His hunch had been right about you two, after all.

[petertingle-yipyip]

BECAUSE OF YOU - KAZ BREKKER

Pairing: kaz brekker x reader

Word Count: 3,741

Summary: Getting through to Kaz Brekker is damn near impossible. One night after a seemingly rough run-in, something brings out a confession in you both. //follow-up//

You’d been in the Dregs for what felt like your whole life. Practically born into it. You always said they raised you, taught you, but that didn’t mean Per Haskell wasn’t going to get his piece. You had a contract with the Barrel boss as soon as you could read and write. That didn’t mean you understood what any of it meant when you signed.

So when you stood in his office, money in your bag to get out of it, it suddenly didn’t feel right. Maybe it was because of your loyalty to the Dregs. They were all you ever had and the tattoo seemed to burn as you thought of leaving. Or maybe it was because it wasn’t Per Haskell in that seat.

“What business?” Kaz asked without sparing you much of a glance.

His voice snapped you from your daze but your mouth felt dry. You swallowed and had to refrain from reaching for your bag. The hardest part of being a thief was the patting of your pockets to ensure you had what you needed. You always felt you had forgotten something so you needed that checklist sometimes.

It makes you an easy mark. Kaz always scolded you. He would tap your hand with the crow’s head of his cane when you started to make the move whenever you two went on jobs. But it didn’t stop him from bringing you with him whenever the Wraith wasn’t available.

“Y/N?” He asked after an extended silence.

You finally met his eyes and he stared intently. You adjusted your bag and dared a step deeper into the office so the door closed behind you.

“I had a deal with Per Haskell.” You began, trying to control your voice, but the way his expression shifted from annoyance to scrutiny told you that you hadn’t. “It was to end my contract. I hope you’ll honor it.”

“Hmm.” He lifted a brow and flipped through some papers, the material of his gloves gliding easily across the thin materials. You used to wonder how he could do everything with the gloves, especially his sleights, but it was one of many mysteries of Kaz Brekker. One of his allures, you supposed. “A fair deal?”

“No.” You smirked slightly. “The old man was desperate when it came to finding you so he took the short stick so I’d help him.”

He tossed your paperwork on the desk and his elbows rested on the surface. He folded his gloved hands and watched intently as you came closer.

“An opportunity you’d be stupid not to take advantage of.” He said simply, as if it was a fact.

You looked down at the papers, your young and messy signature. You saw the scratched out words and numbers, their replacements added with Per Haskell’s initials. You were still surprised that you had worked it out with him.

“I didn’t help him.” You added. He had to have known, even if Inej didn’t tell him. He always knew everything as far as you could tell, or he had a very educated guess at least. “Whenever he asked me to look somewhere I just wandered around.”

“Is that sentiment I hear?” He teased and you glared at him. “If you want out, you can have it. I have no intention of forcing you to stay if you have your own means.”

“Well aware, thank you.” You answered sharply. Did you want him to ask you to stay? Your brain was telling you to do something. Move closer, reach out to him, check your money. But you put a hand over the tattoo under your sleeve instead while you looked back to your contract. “Just seems unreal.” You finally settled on.

“I need a lieutenant, if you’d like reason to stay.” He offered and your eyes snapped back to him. He leaned back in his chair and offered a small shrug. The move was almost defensive, like he’d been caught. “Who else would you suggest I pick?”

“Inej would’ve been your best option.” It was your turn to shrug. “I’d need a new contract.”

“Close out that one and we’ll draw it up.”

“Kaz.”

“Yes?”

You said nothing. The hesitancy had to show in your face because he seemed to soften, a miniscule difference that you’d only notice if you knew to pay attention. And you always paid attention to Kaz.

“I’ll give you a fair deal, Y/N. You’ve earned that much, more than that even.” He said honestly. You felt the flush of your cheeks and stood at the edge of the desk. From there, you could see that his bad leg was stretched out beneath the desk and the crow-topped cane was against the desk beside him. “The choice is yours.”

“I…” You sighed, giving in to the idea and slipping your hand in your bag to your bundle of money.

Kaz smirked and you frowned, knowing you were caught.

“Still?” His brows raised. “Who’s going to rob you here?”

“You. In fact, I’m sure you have at least once.” You deadpanned and then broke into a smile. He nearly returned it. “Your lieutenant, huh?”

“If that’s what you wish.”

“Is that what you wish?”

He stood, leaning a hand against the desk as he came around to stand in front of you. You took an automatic step back. It was drilled into you that Kaz needed his space. You had once put a hand on his arm when you stumbled, your finger just barely finding the small gap between his jacket sleeve and his glove, and he jerked away from you so quick you had almost fallen again. The glare he pinned you with was so intense you kept your eyes down for the rest of the day.

“You…” He let out a deep sigh and his hands flexed. “You are more important here than you know.”

“I’m sure the others can pick up the jobs without me.”

“I don’t mean for jobs.”

“Right…” You nodded slowly before pulling out the stack of money. You held it by the end, pushing your hand forward so he could take it. “It’s all there but feel free to count.”

“I trust you.” He nodded and reached forward.

Gloves fingers grazed yours and you were quick to withdraw your hand. You watched his face for a reaction to the touch but nothing happened. He continued with his movements as if nothing happened, grabbing the contract and skimming it, while you were stiff as a board awaiting his reprimand. When he began to thumb through the money, you relaxed.

Maybe it wasn’t as bad if he initiated the contact. Another mystery.

He split the stack into two uneven portions and handed you the bigger of the two while he dropped the smaller stop the paperwork. Your brows furrowed and you took a small step back.

“What are you-“ You began but he shook his head and silently closed the distance. He grabbed your wrist and put the money in your hand. You had to clench your jaw to keep it from falling open.

“As I said, you’ve earned this.” He said pointedly. He seemed more focused on the words he said than anything else. “I’ll send Haskell his cut and that’ll be that.”

“He’ll be furious.” You reasoned. “He’ll come for me.”

“He won’t.” Kaz insisted, keeping his eyes on yours. “After what happened here, he wouldn’t dare show his face.”

“That doesn’t mean I’d be safe.”

“It’s Ketterdam. No where’s safe.” He shook his head, hands slipping from yours. You almost missed the feeling of his gloves. “At least here, you’ll have people who care about what happens to you.” He leaned onto the desk behind him.

“You mean Jesper and Nina.” You answered, burying the sadness that rose when you knew he likely didn’t include himself in that.

“Everyone here will watch your back, Y/N. As I’ve said, your presence matters here.”

“Will you?” You asked before you could think the question through. “Watch my back, that is.”

“Haven’t I always?”

“You call me a pigeon whenever you can.” You deadpanned again.

“Then stop patting your pockets when we’re on a job.” He retorted and it almost sounded playful.

“I tried!” You exclaimed and threw your hands forward. “I can’t help the dread that I’ve forgotten something.”

The cursed expression that bordered a smile and smirk crossed his features. His arms came across his chest and he leaned closer to you. “What do you say then?”

You chewed your lower lip in thought. You had no real plan as to what to do when you left so would staying be that bad? And it was Kaz asking you to stay, after all. Not Jesper or Nina, not even Inej. Kaz.

“The deal is the deal.” You nodded and he smirked proudly.

That interaction had been years ago. You signed on as Kaz’s lieutenant and you two had been working together in the time since. Inej came through occasionally and when she did, Kaz left you in charge. It was always a bit of a sting when he went off to spend a few days with her, but she was his first love. You knew that much, whether the stubborn bastard would admit it or not.

You also came to learn that Kaz had an overall aversion to physical touch. He admitted to you one night when you two were alone, staking out some target for some heist he had planned. You made an off-hand comment about the gloves or the coat even in summertime and he gave a brief, almost strangled reason. He didn’t say when it started or why it started, just that he’d rather die.

However, you noticed you had won small victories. With a barrier, of course. He offered you his hand to get up from your seat or to climb up or over something. If you two were assuming the role of a couple, he let you put your arm through his. His hand would rest featherlight against your back when you two passed through tight quarters so you wouldn’t be separated. He once even let you put your head on his shoulder when you were holed up in a small room late into the night while you waited for the stadwatch to pass.

Now, you were in his office waiting for his return. Usually you did your work in your own room, but since there were no upcoming jobs, you simply sat in the velvet lounge chair you had convinced him to leave there for you and read a book. It was a fascinating story of demon-hunting nephilim. You were flipping the page quickly and the door slammed open.

You jumped and let the book fall from your hands, flying to your feet. You rested a hand at the knife strapped to your thigh but let out a sigh of relief when it was only Kaz.

“Saints, Kaz.” You laughed in relief. You looked over at him and noticed he had a hand tucked under his jacket and a clench to his jaw that was tighter than usual. “Are you alright?” You asked carefully, daring a step closer.

He stepped in and leaned against the wall, knocking his cane against the door so it would slam shut. With the new privacy, he let the cane clatter to the floor and panted heavily. You were at his side quickly and reached forward to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Kaz?” You tried but he refused to look at you. You took in a quick scan of his injuries. His usually carefully combed hair was aggressively disheveled and falling into his eyes, a dried stream of blood across his chin, a dribbling line from somewhere above his eyebrow. “Go sit and I’ll get my kit.”

He shook his head and you weren’t sure if he was denying the chair or your help, or simply trying to shake off whatever was rattling around in his head. You groaned slightly and grabbed his jacket sleeve. You carefully put his arm over your shoulders and tucked yourself into his side, opposite of the one he clutched tightly. You moved quickly enough that he couldn’t shove you away but you still figured the move would get you in his bad graces.

You spared a glance and saw the dark liquid staining the already dark fabric. You shook your head slightly and began to drag the man across the room. His posture was rigid, his limp more prominent, and you knew you’d get an earful for grabbing onto him but he gave you no choice. You didn’t want to risk him collapsing to the floor or waiting for him to move on his own.

“I’m sorry.” You confessed as you ducked out from under his arm and helped him into the chair. “Just… I didn’t want you to bleed out over there.”

You couldn’t find other words so you left. You hurried to your own room for your kit and practically sprinted back to his office. You locked the door behind you, knowing Kaz would hate for anyone to see him in a vulnerable state. Except for you, it seemed. He trusted you just enough to let you see some of that. Not all of it, you could tell, but enough.

“Can you move your hand?” You asked and you knelt at the side of the chair. You didn’t dare to kneel in front of him.

He winced and moved his hand, which allowed no better view. You reached forward and flicked the material of jacket away, but the fabric of his shirt was already stuck to the wound.

“You’ll have to take your shirt and jacket off.” You said, trying to maintain composure. “The material’s stuck to it. I can’t see anything… Or at least unbutton them.”

Asking Kaz to sit shirtless in front of you was a huge deal. He had his touch aversion, and you respected that, but it bordered on being too intimate. He tensed at your request but his eyes met yours in question. It wasn’t whether or not you were sure. He knew as well as any Dreg that you had the best handiwork when it came to wounds, Grisha aside of course, so if you asked for something like that, it was necessary. The question was more for himself, if he could handle it.

You dropped your eyes to your kit instead. You knew you had to let him come to a decision on his own so you prepped your materials instead. Clean strips of fabric to clean the wound, a sturdy thread looped through a skinny needle, long cloths for bandaging, and a pair of gloves. You slipped your hands into the rubber and flexed your fingers to ensure they fit. The material stuck to your damp skin and you realized your hands were clammy.

You looked back at him cautiously and saw he had unbuttoned his shirt, only moving the side with the wound out of the way. He took a deep breath and held it for a second. You knew you should wait until he said something but judging by the tightness in his jaw, he wouldn’t be saying anything anytime soon. He breathed out and you saw the smallest of nods, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

You reached in carefully, pushing the fabric aside a little further to see the wound. You kept it to the side with one hand and grabbed for the fabric strips with the other. You angled your arm to keep his open shirt back and touched your fingers to his side. His head snapped towards you so fast you feared he’d get whiplash. You could feel his stare in you but you refused to look at him, focusing on clearing the blood for a better view of the wound.

“Snagged a box from a clinic delivery.” You explained. “Had to relearn some things like stitches but I figured…”

“Why?” He asked and the single word seemed to scrape at his throat. Whether it was from the situation or the fight he came from, you weren’t going to ask.

‘Because of you’ you wanted to say. Because you wanted to touch him without triggering a panic attack. Because it was the least you do to show you cared.

“Would you let me do this without them? Besides, it’s cleaner this way…” You shrugged. “If you can pick locks and do sleights with yours, I could learn this. Trust me, it’s nothing.”

“It’s everything.” He nearly whispered.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” You tried to keep him talking, hoping it’d keep him distracted so he wouldn’t jolt away from you.

You had the wound clean by then and knew it’d scar, but a few quick stitches would be easy enough.

“No.”

“Okay.”

You swapped the fabric for the needle.

“This’ll sting.” You warned and sat up on your knees for a better angle. You looked up at him for an answer and his eyes were surprisingly softer than you’d ever seen them. “Are you alright?”

You two stared at each other for a moment longer and you recognized what it was. Appreciation.

“Other than that?” His chin dipped towards the slice on his side.

You chuckled slightly and shook your head before turning your focus to the stitches. You had to move relatively slower than usual. It was the first time you had done stitches on a body with gloves. You practiced on your blankets or your clothes. Truthfully, Kaz was the only reason you learned with the gloves.

You could feel him watching your hands. Maybe he was just admiring your intentful movements. Maybe he was thinking about the gloves, thankful for the barrier between his skin and yours. Regardless, he said nothing and neither did you.

When you were done, you swapped again for the longer strip. You offered it to Kaz first.

“Do you want to do it? If you wrap it, I can tie it.”

“No, you can…” He trailed off.

“Okay.” You nodded. “Can you stand?”

He pushed himself up with a grimace. You collected your material and stood, waiting for him to shrug his shirt down his arms. You put one end on the wound and took his hand to hold it in place. You made sure to walk around instead of reaching to maintain his space. When you got to the end, you looped it under one of the layers and tied it in a knot. You tucked the knot and ran a gloved hand over the material quickly to ensure it hadn’t gotten twisted.

“What about your head?” You took a step back. “Does it hurt?”

“Y/N…” He said quietly. Your head cocked in quiet interest and he took your hand in his.

He peeled your glove off, his remaining in place, and held your hand loosely in his. One barrier instead of two, clearly making a difference to him. Your brows furrowed but you bit your tongue to keep any comments to yourself. You feared if you acknowledged it, it would end. He took another deep breath and winced. Whether from the wound or the situation, you didn’t dare ask.

You reached your other gloved hand up and carefully pushed his hair away. You saw the cut on his forehead and frowned slightly.

“It doesn’t need stitches but I could at least clean it.” You offered. “Make sure you’re presentable again.”

He snorted a small laugh, a tight-lipped momentarily smile grazing his lips.

“Presentable… Without a shirt?”

That was your preferred view but you did wonder if Kaz knew that. Did Kaz know that you thought about him in ways you shouldn’t? That you waited to know he was back when you didn’t go with him? That you relearned your techniques with gloves to meet him somewhere in the middle? That you sat in that corner chair, reading a book while he worked, just to be near him?

Did Kaz know you loved him?

“Did you hit your head?” You asked, flicking your gaze to either of his eyes to try and gauge his awareness. “You may be concussed.”

“No, I’m…” He began but his brows furrowed in thought for a moment. “Well, yes, I did, but that’s not- It doesn’t-“ He sighed.

“Just sit down.” You shook your head and gently pushed on his shoulder. He obliged, but there was a hint of a pout on his face.

Kaz Brekker didn’t pout. What was going on with him?

You stood in front of him this time after gathering your materials. You kept them in your ungloved hand and only made contact with him using the covered one. You didn’t dare push or intrude any further than you already had. You cleaned the wound easily enough, but those damn eyes were still wide as they stared at you.

“Are you sure your head’s alright?” You quirked a brow and knelt down in front of him.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not when…”

“Kaz, I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” You sighed and crossed your arms over your upraised knee. “I don’t speak in half sentences.”

“Thank you.” He said instead and your eyes went wide.

“You’re welcome.” You answered carefully. “And I’m sorry I had to push my luck tonight. I had to make sure you’d be alright.”

“The way life goes around here.” He reasoned, forcing a casual tone.

“It’s different.” You muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ll just be thankful you don’t send someone to kill me.” You said instead.

“Not you. Never you.”

“Oh…”

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you.” He blurted, as if there was an unseen clock ticking down.

“Okay?”

“I…” He closed his eyes and cursed quietly.

“I love you.” You said quickly without thinking. Your mouth dropped and you smacked your ungloved hand to it. “OhmygodIdidnotjustsaythat.” You mumbled against your own skin.

Kaz’s eyes were wide with shock before he gathered his wits and smiled at you.

A real, honest smile.

Your cheeks burned and you could feel your stomach tightening. You dropped your eyes and scooted away to collect the rest of your kit instead.

“Y/N?” He was leaning over the arm of the chair.

“Kaz?” You answered but your voice was embarrassingly high pitched. If your hands were empty, you would’ve smacked yourself in the forehead.

“I loved you first.”

[heartsofminds]

if you could see my thoughts, you would see our faces

“I do a lot of things you don’t do. Doesn’t mean you should be knockin’ yourself out to try ‘em.” or Carmy takes an impromptu smoke break and you're begging him for a drag.

A/N: just a sweet little blurb that's been sitting in my back pocket for a while. hope y'all love it as much as i loved writing it!

Smoke breaks never last forever. 

The cacophonic slam of a door, the pliable edges of a pack of American Spirits, the grooves of a lighter’s spark wheel, the mix of brisk Chicago wind smacking your face, and the heat of a silently shameful cigarette caressing it in a false sleeve of comfort – The world is silent during a smoke break. 

Until the door opens and someone asks to bum a light. Or until you get called back in because everyone and their goddamn mother in River North decides to come in to try the dinner special, yet pretend like they’re actually fucking curious to know what you think the best thing on the menu is. Or until the ignored panic in the back of your mind knocks the wind out of you when taking a particularly long drag that leaves you stifling a deep and hearty cough. 

The small moment of peace before it all still remains good. The moment of peace is fine. The moment of peace is all you can afford to get sometimes. 

A smoke break never lasts forever, but the temporary solace it provides is enough for Carmen, whose brain never seems to stop spinning no matter how fast or slow the world is turning without him. 

He’s gotten better, he thinks, about voicing his discomfort and finding ways to “cope” with his feelings of metaphysical spiraling. He’s still getting the hang of this whole “finding meaning outside of the kitchen” thing, but he figures that twenty-eight years of having your worth summed up in how well something was chopped or seasoned or sautéed or whatever the fuck is ridiculously hard to disengage from. 

His therapist would kill him if she knew that he credited a portion of the advancement of his well-being to you. He can hear Erin tell him that he can’t rely on people to make him feel better; that the only person who can determine Carmen’s worth is Carmen himself, but quite frankly he doesn’t give a fuck. 

And then he remembers that not giving a fuck is him making his own decision about his life (which he was never allowed to do before, which is why he thinks he was damned to hell to pick the profession he has), and his heart swells a bit with pride. He cares about something for once that has all to do with him and the meaning of life and living and being alive and in charge, and that idea is no longer a room with a false ceiling that can cave in at any moment. 

He doesn’t give a fuck because he does give one, and he has never known that something as simple as being loved, fully and authentically, was something that would make all the difference. 

Despite not being stressed out nor having a “real” reason to smoke (except for the fact that he’s a creature of habit, and you seem to love the word “addicted” even though he disagrees), he finds himself lifting the window near the fire escape of his apartment and stepping out onto the rusted steps that are less than functional and whips out his lighter and the red cardboard package harboring his cigarettes. 

The lights are off in the apartment and the soft whistling of the heater helps him make sense of the foggy window glass. Chicago is nightmarishly cold in November, yet his body doesn’t seem to mind the teen-digited temperature that plagues the indigo-hued 1 AM sky. 

Carmy loved in living in the city (and the actual city of Chicago and not Naperville or Joliet or Downers Grove like all the other self-proclaimed “Chicagoan” jagoffs that littered the outskirts of the city for sleep, but polluted it for play). 

He liked living in New York City but he loved living in Chicago. New York was too noisy which, he knows, is so fucking ironic given the fact he lives in the heart of all things bustling and boisterous. 

But New York had the kind of noise at night that was isolating; the sounds of cars honking and the squeal of the subway telling the stories of a million different lives of a million different people that he didn’t know. 

New York City is the largest city in the United fucking States, yet a twenty-two-year-old Carmen could not have felt lonelier while he was there. New York City is the perfect city in the United fucking States to go soul-searching in, and yet a twenty-two-year-old Carmen could not have been more clueless about who he was at the time.  

And he’s still figuring out this “thing” called having an identity and finding peace, and he’ll never feel like he knows a whole lot about anything, but he does know two things for certain. 

He fucking loathes feeling lonely and he fucking despises feeling clueless. 

Chicago is noisy, but the kind of noise that sends an irritated streak of comfort down your spine; the hatred of your twin bed and its mismatched sheets in your childhood bedroom, but the comfort of knowing a refreshing and safe sleep is to follow that night. It was the kind of noise that filled living rooms on Christmas Day or the backyard on the Fourth. It was the sound of a vacuum cleaner running on an early Saturday morning during the first week of summer break and the ticking of kitchen timers and arguments and laughter and tears of all kinds. 

He was always reluctant to come back. His pride is something he holds close to his chest but wears with quiet confidence. He would rather die than it seem as if he ran away from New York back home with his tail between his legs. He would rather die than admit to himself that Chicago is where he was meant to be and where he should have always been. He would rather die than admit that through his fucked childhood and even fuck-ier adulthood (Thank you Mikey and Mom and NOMA and Chef David), the city is his safety blanket. 

Carmen hasn’t been back to the house since the incident five Christmases ago. Everyone mutually (and very silently so as to not piss his mom off even more than she always perpetually seemed to be) decided that Christmas Eve dinner is much better suited for Uncle Jimmy’s house. When Natalie called on the phone to let him know about the change of venue the following year, he had known from her tone that another Richter scale meltdown had occurred once their mother found out. 

From then on he found ways to stay away; to stay put and to put his life on hold and it was the closest thing he could get to not breathing with, you know, still actually fucking breathing. 

And it worked for a while. It worked for one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days, to be exact. 

But then Mikey died and then there was a restaurant and then there was every relative that had ever known of his existence knocking down his door and begging him to let them in; asking him if he was okay and prodding him with questions about any and everything in between his mom driving her car into the fucking house and his brother deciding croaking was better than sticking around this hell hole. 

And it’s crazy, he thinks, how him simply observing the weather and thinking about possibly smoking a cigarette before bed created this rabbit hole of what would usually be the beginning of an anxious spiral. 

Fucking Christ, I need a cigarette. 

His fingers create an unrecognizable beat on the package of cigarettes in his hand and he takes the first step out onto the fire escape. 

Carmen’s body weight bares down on a piece of the wired metal and it groans in protest. The sounds of tires passing through slush on the road create soothing white noise for his ears. The thin blue henley shirt he has on does little to shield the wind from icing his skin, but he doesn’t mind. 

He can’t chance going back inside to fetch his jacket. The coat rack near the front door lies at the end of a pattern of creaks from your apartment’s shitty floorboards. You’re not a light sleeper in any sense of the word (nor are you entirely sober right now), but he knows that he never places that one particularly decrepit plank of wood right, and the noise will jolt you out of your slumber. 

His nimble fingers swiftly pull a cigarette out of the carton. He cups it with his left and uses his right to cradle the flicker of his lighter. The orange flame disappears as fast as it had been kindled and he inhales deeply and his exhale is shallow. 

Carmen had been smoking since he was fifteen, but he never really had a reason to do it other than Mikey did, and it was a way to spend more time with him. It was their little secret; something that was his and Mike’s and something that seemed like a big deal at the time but would mean jack shit the second he turned eighteen. He never really loved the way cigarettes smelled. He could hardly stand the taste and the constant health class lectures about them being bad for your lungs freaked him out. 

But now that he knows what it feels like to have no thoughts in his head and be left alone in the solace of smoking a cigarette in the dead of night, he thinks he gets it. 

The silence is cut in half by the sound of the rickety floorboard groaning out in a warning. He doesn’t have to peek his head inside and look around to know that it’s you. You never sleep well after a night out and even though he had to carry you up the stairs, drag a damp washcloth over your face to remove your makeup, and bribe you to stand up long enough to take out your own contacts, he should have known better than to be anywhere but in bed next to you. 

Your drunkenness has started to fade and you’ve gone down on the meter from “off your ass” to “slightly tipsy.” Him picking you up from your girls’ night at one of the clubs downtown was more than two hours ago, but he figured you would’ve came and found him by now. 

You have such a fear of missing out and while it’s not Carmen’s favorite thing about you, it does warm his heart to know that you want to spend time with him or that you’re scared he’s doing something interesting without you around. He wishes your ‘fomo’ was based on some issue that he could tangibly fix and not on what he knows is your badly bruised self-esteem. It makes his chest heavy that sometimes you can’t see how great you are; that sometimes you don’t understand why he wants you around and loves you so dearly. 

He can hear your footsteps approach the window ledge and he wordlessly holds his arm out for you to grab onto. Your fingers come out from under the blanket you’ve thrown over yourself like a shawl and grasp his like a lifeline. 

Your body effortlessly molds to him; your front pressed to his back and his unoccupied arm pulling you closer like a seatbelt on your waist. The subtle pressure on your midsection comforts you and your body lodged into his helps alleviate some of the sting he’d been suffering from the cold. 

“You’re mad at me,” you speak. Your voice is small and soft; gentle just in case he really is mad at you and this isn’t something your drunk mind conjured up as you lay in bed alone. 

He sighs and turns his head to take another drag from his cigarette. He makes sure that your hair is out of target of his smoke exhale. A subtle whine leaves your throat as he steps away from you and he grins. Carmen loves when you’re like this; when you’re clingy and being near him is never enough to satiate you. 

“M’not,” he says. You shift from one foot to the other and his eyes momentarily gaze down to make sure you put on socks before you come out here to join him.

 Even though he can’t see your face, he knows that the corners of your mouth are posed in a frown. You hate it when he doesn’t elaborate. It makes you feel shut out. He’s not helping his case of denying your accusation. You may just burst into tears if he doesn’t provide more dialogue. 

Your nasty habit of feeling like everyone is upset with you all the time is swelling. His nasty habit of smoking more cigarettes a day than he knows he needs is bulging. 

Another drag from his cigarette. Another exhale of smoke. Another attempt at trying to be better for you. 

“Can’t ever be mad at you, baby. Not with a face like that,” he croons. The words come out of his mouth so easily; endearment dipped in honey and love warmed by sunshine. Adoration is easy when it comes to you. He’s never known a peace like this. 

“Sly dog,” you mutter. The brain fog from the four tequila lemonades you downed earlier makes you slow in finding a smartass thing to say. Carmen fights the urge to poke fun at you because he knows that you’ll take him seriously. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” your words silently praise. 

“You make it easy,” his hold on you acknowledges. 

Your face is numb from the cold and the alcohol making its way through your system. The lips pecking a kiss against your temple can barely be felt, yet you contently hum once the damp seal of them releases the affection you’ve been longing for. He never makes you work hard for his undivided attention when he readily has it. Wordlessness crafts a cradle of comfort for you both. Soulmates in ways that soulmates usually aren’t. 

Another drag from his cigarette. Another exhale of smoke. Another show of actually being better for you. 

A beat of silence passes with the whistling of the wind. 

“Can I try?” your voice is small with unacquired confirmation of what his answer will be. 

He giggles and you’re mesmerized by the way the smoke exhales with each minuscule twitch of his chest. You turn around at the feeling and press your palms to his torso. It’s impossible not to admire him. You’re always starstruck but he makes it easy to be that way when he looks so peaceful and sweet and good. 

Good for you. Good for your heart. Good for each other. 

You make a mental note to tell him that he should wear this shirt more often but know deep down that you’ll forget to do so until it comes back clean in the laundry basket in a week. You need to work on that, you think; telling him that you love him when you feel it. Moments like this don’t last forever, and you fear for the day that the ooey-gooey feelings of love in its purest forms are fleeting. You know that Carmen makes it impossible, but you can never be sure. Much like he, you’re always half expecting the ceiling to cave in. 

“Sweet baby wants to be a smoker?” he chides. He doesn’t feel bad when you flash him a pouty frown. 

“Carm!” you gripe. Your cheek presses to his pec. You hate when he does this; when he can’t give a straight answer. It isn’t something that needs an answer, but the satisfaction of having one, of being connected to him and the inner world of his mind he tries so hard to keep from everyone, would feel nice. 

Carmen’s tattooed hand snubs the cigarette out on the dish left on the ledge of the window. His fingers curl to let his knuckles brush the hair on the top of your head. You try your hardest not to melt into his touch. He’ll have a field day if you let him have the satisfaction of making you visibly weak in the knees. 

“Didn’t even say no yet, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, but you’re being mean. Just tell me “no” instead of making me suffer.” 

He quirks his eyebrow and brings a gentle hand to guide your chin upwards, forcing you to make eye contact with him.“Well, m’gonna if you don’t lose the ‘tude, baby.” 

The shift in his tone of voice and the forced eye contact sends a beam of warmth down to your stomach. He has a way of leaving little leeway for negotiation and argument. It’s abstract to his everyday life, but that was complicated, you know. When it’s you and him and him and you, there is never a need for a fight for dominance or a clarification of authority. You both understand each other on a level that is molecular. There is never any need for guessing. 

His finger flicks your lip playfully before swiping a calloused thumb gently on the plush of them. You had fought him so hard earlier when he tried to swipe the lipstick and liner you had put on earlier off with a washcloth. He finds it wild that you’re wide awake and coherent after witnessing the mild temper tantrum you had thrown about it not even two hours earlier. 

Carmen spots the gentle gleam in your eyes and his heart instantly softens. He sighs, momentarily taking his hands off of you and reaching back in his pocket for his carton of cigarettes and lighter. 

“Fine, but you gotta light it.” 

The aforementioned cigarette sits unlit between his lips, the end sticking out like an invitation and the filter hid between his teeth like a dirty secret. He half expects you to chicken out when he hands you the lighter. You always freaked out a little about the flame being so close to your fingers. Something about feeling the heat so close to your hand made you insanely nervous and he could never seem to fully understand. 

His expectations are exceeded when your thumbnail crafts friction with the spark wheel and the illuminated peach of his lighter of the month spurs to life. You don’t cup it with your hands to shield it from the wind. You let it grow and shrink as you lift it up to the unlit butt sticking out of his mouth. 

Your eyes watch in childish awe as the wrapped paper gives way and reveals the hearty smell of tobacco and a sunburst of ashes upon making contact with the manufactured heat. You had watched Carmen smoke hundreds of times, but something about seeing it now right in front of you kindles a spark of curiosity deep in your belly. 

“Can’t believe my sweet girl wants to puff on a cancer stick,” he says. You know that he’s joking, but his trying to get you to change your mind strikes a nerve deep within you. 

“You do it so why can’t I?” you huff, agitated with him seemingly withholding the cigarette you so desperately crave. 

“I do a lot of things you don’t do. Doesn’t mean you should be knockin’ yourself out to try ‘em.” 

You roll your eyes. “It’s just one. Don’t be so mean.” 

He pulls the stick from between his lips and creates a perfect “o” ring with the smoke in its wake. A dopey-eyed grin plants a home on his face and his eyes look deep into yours. 

Fucking show-off. 

“All it takes is one to get addicted,” he continues to smoke and the cigarette butt starts to diminish with each puff he takes, “You sure you wanna bite, sweetheart?” 

“One won’t hurt.”

His gaze lowers to your lips and back up to your eyes. “Don’t wanna end up like me. All sad and addicted to cigarettes.” 

“Carmen, please. I just want one,” you huff, lightly pushing his chest away. He moves slightly with your force and has to stifle a laugh. 

“They ever show you Teri the Smoker in health class?” Carmen takes the cigarette out of his mouth and pretends to examine it, faux and forced curiosity at the cylindrical tube sitting between his lithesome fingers. He’s not giving into you on purpose, you know, and he’ll give in eventually, you also know, but him trying to delay the gratification of getting what you want is starting to annoy you more than it usually would. 

“Yes? What does that have to do with anything?” 

He pops it back in his mouth and takes an obnoxiously long drag. “Nothing,” he breathes out the smoke with his statement, “Just funny that you know that and here you are, damn near hands and knees, gagging for a cigarette.” 

“Carmen.” 

He laughs and you can’t help but love the sound. 

“You know, it’s real fucked up of you to ask for a drag from my cigarette that I get with my hard-earned money,” he says and you roll your eyes, “You should know I love you too much to let you stick a cancer stick in your mouth.” 

“It’s just one!” you plead. 

“It’s never just one, sweetheart.” 

“Well, who says’m gonna get addicted like – like you and Teri the Smoker?” 

“The nicotine content on the carton. That’s who.” 

He’s not paying you any attention and it’s starting to ache your heart a little. You know that he’s distracted; that he’s just trying to prevent the ashes from getting on your blanket and from getting the smell of smoke in your hair, but him biting at your insistence a little less than he was previously sends a pang of gloominess through your chest.

“You smoke all the time, and if you get a hole in your throat because of that then you’re so mean.” 

His lips upturn in introspection.“M’mean?” 

“Very,” you answer dryly. 

“Humor me.” 

“Because then I’ll have to live the rest of my life without hearing your voice again and then I’ll be so sad.” 

He shrugs, half knowing that you’re joking but half expecting something more to come out of what you’re getting at. “Ehh, don’t think anyone at the restaurant would miss it.” 

“I would!” 

You smack at his chest again lightly and he remembers how touchy and wild you get after you’ve been drinking. It’s never bad or out of control, but you’re more affectionate than usual and less gentle than you normally are. 

“Yeah, baby? Gonna miss my voice?” 

“Mhm,” you purr, leaning up to get closer to his ear, “Gonna miss how you call me a good girl. And how you whine when I pull your hair and how you tell me that I’m the tightest and wettest little th-” 

“Jesus,” he laughs, playfully pushing the side of your face away as your teeth nibble a tiny bite on the thick of his palm, “Fuck off.” 

You like to play around, too. That’s also something he sees more of after a night out. He never indulges; knows you get too riled up and in your head when it goes somewhere he’s not comfortable with, but he loves it nonetheless. Being together has helped the other not be so scared of permanence. Moments like this confirm what he knows, and he realizes that you’re a saint and he wants to marry you. 

The stuff that comes along with it has been plaguing his mind as of late, but he realizes how little it matters when he sees you all happy and grateful to be around him and doing the most mundane of things. He’ll get you that ring and that house and those babies and the happiest fucking life in a heartbeat, and he’s oddly comforted by the fact that he knows you’ll let him. 

Carmen’s never been the best at not wearing his feelings on his face and you know he’s deep in thought when the banter dies and the whistling of the wind takes its place. You hope he isn’t spiraling. He tends to do that a lot. You tend to feel powerless when it happens. 

Your eyes study his face; the lightness of his irises, the spiral of curls, the slope of his nose. The tequila from earlier remains in your system, but it doesn’t change the fact that you love him so deeply. 

“You know, it’s bullshit that you’re giving me hell about putting a cigarette in my mouth.” Your voice cuts through the quiet and he starts to grin again. 

“Hey, s’only bullshit because you’re sittin’ here beggin’ and then telling me I’m gonna have a fuckin’ hole in my throat from smoking too much.” 

“I never said that it was gonna be bad, Bear. I just said I was gonna miss hearing your voice is all.” 

His free hand comes out to sit on the base of your neck. A calloused thumb draws small semi-circles on the bottom of your hairline. 

“You know, her quality of life was probably amazing,” he speaks, “Like didn’t she have kids and grandkids and friends and shit? Health class is fucked up for making her out to be the ‘throat hole lady’.” 

“You shouldn’t say that,” you grimace and he plants his lips on your forehead. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

You make him softer. If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t think twice about how insensitive it had come off. His therapist is always saying people can’t make you better, but she clearly hasn’t met you. 

“But that was kinda the whole point? You shouldn’t want to be like her?” you pause and the frown lines in your eyebrows write “pensive” on your face before you even realize it, “. . .Because she does have a hole in her throat. And her quality of life was just very. . .different?” 

Carmen nods. “They’re fucked up for that.” 

“Jesus, Carm. Do you think smoking is bad or not because you’re giving me soooo many mixed signals here,” you sigh, your forehead moving forward faster than you intended and hitting the bony composition of his collarbones. 

He hums softly; part listening to what you’re saying and part acknowledging that he wants to move on from what you had said. 

“Did you know that your life expectancy goes down by eleven minutes or some shit like that each time you smoke a cigarette?” he swiftly changes the subject. 

You pick your head up and narrow your eyes playfully. “Oh, you don’t even love me enough to let me smoke one so I can be put out of my misery a whole eleven minutes earlier when you die from smoking a gazillion packs a day and leave me all lonely and wrinkly.” 

“I think you’d be hot wrinkly,” he replies matter-of-factly. 

“I think you’d be hot if you let me smoke one.”

“You’re probably not gonna like it.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

He realizes that the cigarette has pretty much burned itself out. There’s possibly one or two more drags left before he has to ash it out completely. He debates on whether he should let you have at it or silently take the last two and usher you back inside. If he chooses the former, he knows that he’ll feel bad if you don’t like it, and he worries that your realization will kickstart the unraveling of something almost perfect he’s found for himself. He can’t bear to take another loss in his life. If he chooses the latter, he knows you wouldn’t even be aware that he had smoked it entirely by himself, and that you’ll gripe and complain for the rest of the night and table the conversation for another time when he’s in a less resistive state. 

“Carm, you have to give me a puff from it,” you complain, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

He’s giving in to you. He always does. He doesn’t know why he pretends like he has free will when it comes to you. 

“C’mere,” he beckons your face closer, “And don’t use your hands. You have that blanket on and I don’t wanna have to call Chicago Fire tonight.” 

Carmen lifts his hand up to your mouth and gently laughs when you go cross-eyed to eye the filter sitting in between his pointer and middle fingers. 

“You just inhale, hold it, and then breathe back out,” he instructs. He feeds the filter to your lips before suddenly pulling it back. “Don’t choke yourself out though. That uh – that won’t be good and then you’re really not gonna like it.” 

Your neck extends to get closer to Carmen’s hand and you do what he says. You inhale, hold it, and exhale. You don’t think you’re doing it right (and he knows that you didn’t, but doesn’t say anything because he knows it’ll make you whiny) but you’re satisfied that he trusts you enough to try. 

“Took it like a champ, baby,” he cheers, “So proud!” 

He pushes the butt of the cigarette into the dish and your blanket-covered hands come up to palm his face gently. The plush of the cover feels soft against his stubble-covered cheeks, and your gazes catch each other’s. 

A moment of tranquility. A moment of peace. A moment of love. 

He so desperately wants to marry you. 

[heartfullofleeches]

What if...... Bunny reader is dwarf bunny...... Then you have giant Fletcher....... But. But hear me out. Bunny reader is the one that dominates fetch in the bedroom

Folks are surprised, and a lil concerned, when the tiniest bunny they know winds up marrying what has to be the biggest rabbit this town has ever seen. Fletcher has some worries of his own, but he tries to be less vocal about them. He loves his cuddle bunny with all his heart and soul - that's the whole and honest reason he's hesitant to bed with the them.

"You know I'd love to, Darlin'. It's just that you're so small compared to me. I don't wanna accidentally hurt you when we...."

Fletcher claws at his neck, heat reaching his ears as he timidly trails off. "You know...."

"Aww, don't be like that, Fetch. You and I both know you'd never hurt a fly. We'll be married soon. We've already had some fun together - I'd like to know what to expect for our lives together. Besides, I thought you said you thought my height was cute-"

He did. Everytime you complained about not being able to reach something in his house or how people always look down upon you for your size, Fletcher was quick to carry you off your feet and tell you all the things he loved about you and your height. It's also true that you've had some experimentation prior to his proposal. He only ever used his fingers or mouth before then - terrified of what might happen if he gave into temptation. You're a stubborn creature. Always teasing him despite his fears. Yet another tally to the endless list of reasons he loves you so damn much.

"You know, if you're that afraid - I could always be the one on top...."

That would... definitely solve a few of his problems. Pretty much all of them if he was being truthful with himself. If you're in control that certainly lessens the chance of him losing his.

One thing Fetch fails to take into thought is how hard the absence has been for you as well. It's sweet that Fletcher's worried, but so is everyone else. Your whole life, you've hardly had to lift a finger with people "just looking out for you" due to your size. Fletcher smothers you most these days, but is willing to grant you freedoms with range.

Like letting you handcuff him to the headboard the first night of your honeymoon. Bunnyman had a long night ahead of him that evening.

And he couldn't wait a second longer.

Shop owners are surprised to see you wheeling a cart up to their front door when Fletcher ends up running behind on his deliveries. It's the least you can do to help out since you're part of the cause of his delay.

"Y/n? Should you even be carrying a cart that big? Where's Fetch?"

"I'll manage. Fletcher's still asleep right now, but he should be up soon enough. Really tuckered himself out last night."

"Ah... Long day at work, I presume?"

"You could say something like that...."

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Gold Rush (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Your whole life you have been Daemon’s voice of reason. Tonight, you choose to be the impulsive one. 

Warnings: Velaryon! Reader (And POC!) Friends to lovers. Fluff. Eloping. Tender, loving smut.

Requested: Uh, I don’t know for markers of arousal, but they are a mess. Sub Daemon and POC reader, as requested. I finished the bingo! Yay! 

You clutch the letter in your hand, a joyous smile slowly starting to spread on your face. Uncaring of the guards, or the people around you, you hike up your skirt and race to the courtyard, screaming with all your might. 

“Daemon!” You say, laughing. “Daemon, Daemon, come quickly.” The letter is still clutched in your hand. Your light blue slippers, matching your dress, are starting to get mud soaked; you have avoided the paths to get there faster. 

Your childhood friend is in the training yard, his armor glinting under the sunlight. For once, he is not wearing the full Targaryen regalia, but rather a simple chest plate. You find yourself a bit taken aback by how handsome he looks with the sun hitting him from behind, hair shining like polished silver. He reminds you of the statues of the Seven you have seen in the royal Sept, a halo around his head. 

Daemon sets Dark Sister down when noticing your arrival. He steps aside from his sparring partner, a knight from House Lannister, as if he were meaningless. The man shouts something, probably in indignation from the abandoned match, but Daemon only has eyes for you.

Standing on the steps near the courtyard, his full attention is a heady feeling. It nearly makes you sway. He manages to look even more handsome when a bit roughed up. 

“Is that…?” He asks, pointing at the parchment in your hand. You nod. 

“He said yes! My brother said yes!” You shout, laughing. Daemon runs towards you, even more mud soaked and sweaty than you are and hugs you to him, spinning you around. It only prompts you to laugh louder. 

“You wonderful, wonderful woman.” He says, peppering your face with kisses, uncaring of the stares from the rest of the knights scattered around. You squeal when he squeezes you to him a little too hard, only to laugh right after at his eagerness. 

At the noise, Ser Harold lifts his head, but when he realizes that it is Daemon and you once more, he only shakes his head in exasperation before returning to his guard duties. 

“And has the Queen..?” You ask Daemon, in a low voice. Sudden doubts make your heart clench. Convincing her of allowing Daemon to marry you had been hard, especially considering she had a match in the Vale already lined up for him. It had taken the two of you nearly a year, and you had only managed to soften her heart by reminding her and her brother husband were once a love match too. She had agreed only if your brother agreed to it too. 

And that had been another can of worms. You knew Corlys was ambitious and wanted to see his wife, Rhaenys, on the throne. Marrying Daemon was the utmost betrayal in his eyes, for it was clear your friend would side with his own brother if there was a succession issue. Thankfully, he had given you permission, swayed by the promise that you would keep Daemon and Caraxes out of it if the worst came to pass. 

Finally, Daemon and you could marry. You were holding the very proof of it in your hands. 

“She has. But still…” Daemon gently grasped your face, tilting your head up so he could look into your dark eyes. “We must not allow them to change their minds.” 

You looked up at him, chewing your lower lip. It was not the first time Daemon suggested eloping. Running away to Dragonstone to be wed in the traditions of your shared ancestors and damn to your families. You had never dared. Despite being oddly similar to the romance tale of the Queen and King, you doubted they would take kindly to it. 

“Corlys said…” You start, softly. You do not mind being the voice of reason. It is how it has always been. Ever since you were the little girl sent to foster under Queen Alysanne’s watchful eye. Your father had thought, back then, if you could claim the Cannibal, you surely needed a strong woman to teach you to be one. 

His plan had worked. Perhaps you had not learned much about being a proper Lady, that didn’t track mud into the halls or stab others with practice swords, but by the Gods you had learned strength.  Both of you had, under her. The thing was, Daemon always thought that strength meant charging right at problems while you thought it was better to watch and think first. 

“Give me that.” Daemon complains, taking the parchment from your hand. You yelp and try to take it back, but he raises it high over his head, where you cannot reach. You try regardless, holding his shoulders and jumping up and down in a quite undignified manner. 

Daemon watches you with a smirk, eyes lingering on the bodice of your dress. It is once you exhaust yourself that you notice he is leering at your breasts, and you give him a good shove for it. 

He laughs. He pulls you by the waist and places a kiss on your forehead. 

“You are a pig.” You complain, crossing your arms over your chest. It is not the first time you have caught him looking at you, but it is the first time it feels so intentional. Daemon and you have never crossed that line before. Sure, he has looked, and you have too, but it is only natural. You are the only girl he has been around in a consistent manner. The two of you have been partners in crime since you were children. 

Daemon has had his dalliances outside of you, of course. You know he is fond of brothels and Gods know what else. You do not mind it. This wish for a match between the two of you is not about physical attraction, but rather that if you had to pick one man to be bound with and him only one woman to belong to, both of you choose each other. It’s simple. 

You love him, of course you do. But then, how could you not? Everyone loves Daemon. He is just that charming. Maidens want to be with him, knights want to be him. He is a true dragon, the finest his House has to offer. 

And you are… You. A daughter of House Velaryon, a bit too wild, a bit too unladylike. Nothing to your name but your dragon. At least in that you take pride in. What a foe, your child was. 

“Only for you.” Daemon says, brushing a stray curl away from your face. He twists his finger in it, making it coil tighter before springing back up. 

“Sure.” You laugh, and Daemon gives your hair a harsh little tug, making you yelp.

“I am serious.” He warns, a bit threateningly. His grip on your hair is firm enough to force you to keep your attention on him.  His eyes are locked with yours. “From today on, you are mine. And I am yours. I won’t… I don’t want anyone in my bed that is not you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat. It might as well be a declaration of undying love, coming from Daemon. He is not one for monogamy, your friend. That he is now saying he wants you and only you means… It means everything. 

“But you have never touched me.” You say to him, confused. 

“Of course not, you silly thing.” Daemon shakes his head. “My father would have strangled me.” 

You fight the urge to laugh. Baelon Targaryen had never been too fond of Daemon not being a proper Prince. Unfortunately, he was often so busy with his duties he had little chance of teaching either of you manners. 

No, instead, the older Prince was much more decisive. Every time he caught Daemon with one of the maids, he got rid of them and paid them a pretty sum to forget the incidents ever happened.

“They would have sent me back.” You realize, voice barely above a whisper. If he had ever caught a whiff of impropriety between the two of you, Prince Baelon would have sent you back to Driftmark so fast you would have gotten whiplash. 

“Yes. They would.” Daemon agrees, softly. His grip on your curls soften. Instead, he starts scratching at your scalp, as if to soothe the hurt. “And I didn’t… You are good. I wouldn’t have brought you dishonor.” 

The admission embarrasses him. Daemon wants everyone to think he isn't concerned with that sort of thing. It is his armor. Being the Rogue Prince, the one who makes the unexpected move, the one who doesn’t care about consequences. But he does. When it is someone he loves on the line, Daemon does. 

He loves you. You love him. Why do you have to wait a full moon for Corlys to get here? He is not the one getting married. You don’t need a fancy gown, nor do you need to be wed in a Sept, under a religion that is not yours. 

You look up at Daemon, a mischievous smile starting to form on your face. He looks at you. Not a word is needed. Daemon knows what you are thinking right away. 

His brows pinch together.

“Are you sure?” 

“Daemon.” You say, exasperated. Who does he think he is speaking to? You had not claimed the most dangerous dragon in Westeros because you lacked boldness. 

“Tonight?” Daemon searches your eyes. He finds no hesitation.  

“In the traditions of our houses.” You agree. 

“You understand that if we…” Of course you know. The bedding. Being married usually implies that. The thought fills you with dread and excitement in equal parts. You have been trying very hard not to think of Daemon in this way since the two of you were teenagers. But now, it is not only expected, but encouraged. 

“I know.” 

His hand on your waist tenses. You can feel his grip tighten, greedily. There is so much want in his eyes that it warms your blood. 

“Alright, Lady Confident.” Daemon teases, pressing another kiss to your forehead before letting you go. 

“The dragonpit, tonight. Get us the robes and Viserys.” You point at him, sternly. 

“And what will you get?” He pulls you in again, pressing your bodies flush against each other. You tremble against him, unable to help it. Daemon has such a magnetic pull on you, sometimes you feel like the two of you are never truly apart. He is constantly pulling you to him, into him, even when not in the room. He owns your thoughts, your feelings, your desires. 

But you are not about to tell him that. You like running too much, and by the Seven he likes to chase. 

“Is my presence not enough?” You tease, deftly slipping out of his grip. You start to walk away, hips swaying. Before you are truly out of his reach, you casually speak, as if it were the most normal thing to say. “My riding gear. I intend to ride a dragon tonight.” 

Daemon grabs your wrist, pupils blown. He stops you from leaving. 

“A dragon?”

“My dragon.” You snicker. “I suppose, while we are busy with that, Caraxes and my Cannibal can get to know each other.” 

His joyous laughter chases you all the way to your chambers. You spend the afternoon getting yourself ready. You bathe, soaking in the hot tub until you feel dizzy from the heat. Choosing to elope has made you unable to seek any advice from the only female presence in your life. You doubt Queen Alyssane will take well to the news of what Daemon and you are planning to do. 

Nerves clench in your stomach at the thought of bedding him. It is needed, if you wish to really be wed in the manner of your ancestors, and it has to happen tonight. Otherwise, the tradition would not be complete. 

Having grown around Daemon, you are not fully innocent. Not only have you listened to his exploits, but you also know your body well. What worries you is the fact that he has a lot of experience on you. 

You scrub yourself clean and get up, taking out your secret stash. Pearls are one of Driftmark more prized exports, and you have quite a few. Some have been ground into a fine powder that you apply over your eyelids. You like how the shimmery white contrasts against your brown eyelids, drawing attention to your eyes. 

Some women, especially near Dorne, use black pigment to make their eyelashes look fuller. You have always enjoyed the contrasts more. Velaryons have striking coloring, or so most say. The shimmery silver hair all Valyrians share, with darker skin to offset it and make it pop even more. It’s the same logic you apply to your makeup. 

Once you have scrubbed yourself to your satisfaction, you fret over choosing a shift to wear under the robes. Daemon has sent them to your chambers already, wrapped in a cloth as to not let anyone see what they are. You note that he has selected ones with a red sash, and you frown. You will no longer be a Velaryon after tonight, but you intend to honor your House. 

Perhaps the followers of the Faith of the Seven have the right of it, with the exchange of cloaks. With no Corlys to attend your wedding, you feel oddly adrift. You exchange the red sash for a light blue one. 

Finally, with no other excuse to stall, you put on your black cloak and make your way to the dragon pit. The dragonkeepers barely spare you a glance, used as they are to your antics. 

Caraxes has been brought forth, as has Balerion. Their growls and cries greet you as you step into the lower part of the pit. Your own mount is near, but kept carefully separated. He has an unfortunate tendency of biting other dragons. 

“This is an awful idea.” It is the first thing Viserys says to you, once he sees you approach. “The two of you will kill our grandmother one of these days.” 

“Good evening, Viserys.” You say, taking off your cloak. “Why, thank you for congratulating us.” 

“Thank the gods.” You hear Daemon’s voice before you see him. You turn, finding him dressed in his own set of robes. You had not doubted him for a second. “I thought you were playing a cruel joke on me. That you were… Oh.” 

He finally sees you, dressed in your version of the ceremonial robes. He freezes. 

“You look beautiful.” Daemon says, still a bit stunned. The images of him superpose in your mind. The boy he had been, the man he is now, lips stretching into the most joyful smile you have ever seen. It makes something warm and syrupy sweet nestle inside your chest, covering you in a golden glow.  So of course, he has to be a bit crude. “And all of it mine by the end of the night.” 

Viserys sighs. He looks very put upon, your recently appointed officiant. You decide not to make him wait any longer. Daemon and you marry under the traditions of your Houses that night, with only Viserys and your dragons as your witnesses. 

After the deed is done, palms and lips bloody, you race each other to Daemon’s chambers. The few servants left behind turn to stare, and as you pass, chamber’s doors open. Everyone wants a look at the two troublemakers that are making a ruckus near midnight. Gasps and scandalized murmurs are heard as the onlookers take in your appearance. The runes are painted brightly on your foreheads for all to see if your attires were not damning enough. 

You are sure the news will reach the Queen before the night is over. But as you stop in front of Daemon’s door, you can’t bring yourself to care. He lifts you up into his arms and opens the door with a well-placed kick. 

“Finally.” He says, carefully placing you inside. You laugh. Daemon busies himself with closing the door after the two of you, and it is then that you realize. 

You are married. To Daemon. Your best friend. Your childhood companion. Daemon, rider of Caraxes, the Rogue Prince, Daemon. Fuck. 

Daemon seems to be going through a similar thought process because when he turns to face you, his face is frozen into stunned realization. Now what? His eyes seem to be saying to you. So you step closer. And closer. 

And then his hands are on your waist, and he is kissing you for the first time. 

It’s devastating. There is no other way to describe it. You have been looking at Daemon ever since the two of you met, unable to look away from him, and you finally have his full attention on you. It’s terrifying. His lips move with yours, soft and tender, as if you are something to be treasured. No one knows you as he does, no one could break you as easily as he could. 

You grasp at him like he is your lifeline, hands clinging to his shoulders. There is no finesse in the way you undress him, greedy hands grasping at his robes. Daemon allows you to do so, his hands on your hips steady and calm. It is not until the robes have fallen from his shoulders, exposing his bare skin, that the two of you separate. 

“What do you need?” Daemon asks you, voice low. You look up at him, hoping to see the same desperation you feel reflected in his eyes. What you see takes your breath away. Daemon’s eyes are almost all pupils, the black having swallowed the purple you so love. His lips are swollen from your kisses, mouth slightly agape. “I’m here.” He says, and it sounds wrecked. “I am here.” 

The softness makes you want to cry. You feel overwhelmed with how badly you would like to be close to him. 

“I want… I need…” You articulate, barely. You try to take off your robes, but your hands, so deft at removing his, are slow and stupid when it comes to removing the knots. 

“Let me.” Daemon unties the knots, taking your robes away. His hands wrap around your back, pulling you close. “You are gorgeous.” 

His hands are warm against your ribs, caressing softly. He traces the curves of your waist and hips as if committing them to memory. You do not feel exposed or embarrassed, with Daemon touching you like this. You have belonged to him, heart and soul, since before you knew what the word meant. It’s only right that it is him who you give yourself to. 

Daemon kisses you again, slow and soft. His lips trace your jaw, and then, the shell of your ear. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. 

“I seem to remember you saying something about dragon riding.” He whispers, and you can hear the devious smile he must be sporting in his tone alone. 

Because you are mean, and so much like him, you bite at his naked shoulder. You expect him to yelp or curse, but are fully unprepared for hearing Daemon moan. 

The both of you look at each other, before a giant grin takes over your face. 

“You like that.” You smirk. Daemon’s brows raise.

“So what if I do?” He challenges, with a smirk of his own. You run your nails down his sides, almost experimentally. His eyes almost cross, expression morphing into half pain and half pleasure.  “Seven Hells, you are not allowed to do that!” He complains, and you laugh. 

“I do intend to ride, you know?” You whisper to him, not a hint of shame on your face. 

“Good.” Daemon goes sit on the bed and takes off his breeches. He parts his legs, letting you see his cock for the first time. “Princess, come sit on your throne.” 

You shiver slightly, feeling arousal quickly taking over your best senses. His cock is pink and almost angry looking, perfectly placed for you to sit on his lap and sink on it. You want nothing more than to have him inside you. 

“No.” You say, instead. “Get me ready first.” 

“Come here, then.” He orders, impatiently. “Let me touch you.” 

“You have no manners.” You complain, a bit irked. Daemon has the bad habit of issuing commands, instead of asking. Ever since he was a child, the people around him have yielded to his position or his charm, even to his good looks. Daemon always gets what he wants. 

And you don’t want him to think it includes you. Being taken down a few pegs is healthy, once in a while. So you remain rooted to your spot, naked and confident in your own skin. You start to run your hands along your neck and breasts, tantalizingly. You can feel yourself starting to get wet. 

His eyes track your movements in the same way a man dying of thirst might look at running water. Hungrily, greedily. 

“And you intend to be the one who teaches them to me?” Daemon’s voice comes out much breathier than he probably expects. 

“It is never late to start.” You agree, mischief making your eyes light up. One of your hands pinches your soft buds, getting them hard and alluring. Your breath is heavier, soft little sighs leaving your lips at the stimulation. 

“Fucking… Come here.” Daemon says. You ignore him, running your hands over your breasts. “Please.” He adds, a bit desperate.

You smirk. You take exactly one step towards him. The way he looks at you makes you feel bolder. Your stance widens, one hand dropping between your legs, teasing. 

“Please. Please, by the Gods let me touch you.” He interrupts, before you can do anything more. “Come here, just… I’ll behave.” 

You run your hands over your sides and wait a bit, as if pondering his question. 

“Please.” Daemon repeats. He looks wrecked and you haven’t even touched him. You wonder if this is what he likes about sex, how powerful and in control you can feel knowing that you have another person wrapped around your little finger. 

“I suppose I’ll allow you to get me ready.” You say, very graciously. You make your way to his lap and pull him in for another kiss. 

As soon as your hips are over his, Daemon tries to cheat. He lifts his own hips, trying to grind his erection against your core. You pull at his hair, in warning. He growls against your mouth, and insists on attempting to grind against you. 

You pull back from him, bracing your hands on his knees. Almost on instinct, one of his hands goes to your waist, to steady you. 

“Was that what I asked you to do?” You ask him, frowning. Daemon pouts. 

“I was getting you ready. You are so wet and warm, I bet I could just slide right in.” He complains, much like a scolded child. 

“Really? Then you must not know what getting a woman ready means.” You grin. “Allow me to teach you. Sit back and watch.” 

Daemon growls at you, face slowly starting to flush. You are not sure if he is more enraged or aroused by what he is seeing.  

“You can’t be serious. My balls are turning blue from…” 

“Not my problem.” You answer him, cheerfully. You remain sitting on his lap. The hand he keeps on your waist allows you to not need to support yourself so much. You free one of your hands and direct it to your pearl, where you rub slow, steady circles. 

Under the candlelight, your cunt glistens. You wonder what you must look like to Daemon, wantonly touching yourself on his lap. By the awed look on his face, it must be quite the sight. 

“Do you..?” He licks his lips, throat suddenly dry. “Do you need my help?” 

“Yes. Put a finger inside.” You spread your folds, feeling how slick you are. Daemon groans. 

“Fuck. That’s…” He presses his finger into your hole, slowly. It sinks right in. You sigh, please. Fascinated, Daemon pulls it back a bit, only to push it back inside and feel your walls swallow it. 

“Another. Open me up.” You say, voice a bit shaky. “Curl… Ah. Like that.” No other order is needed. Daemon adds another finger and curls it, a bit mean. It makes you sit up straighter, hands clutching at his shoulders. For a while, nothing exists, except his fingers moving inside you. Want is making you burn up, sweat collecting in the small of your back. You rock your hips against his hand, looking him right in the eyes. 

Daemon’s expression is open in a way you have never seen before. He looks entranced by you, as if he is in the middle of a religious experience. His eyes are fixed on your face, watching your mouth form soft little pants. His other hand is on your hips, aiding your movements. 

“I love you.” He says, sounding a bit broken, a bit in awe. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You press a kiss to his temple. “Ready?” 

Daemon nods, hiding his face on your chest. You grab his erection and line it up with your hole. He hugs you, tighter still, and it’s then that you sink on him. 

You curse, eyes going wide. Daemon lets out a groan. 

“Daemon.” You say, urgently. You feel like he is carving out a space for himself inside of you, as if he had not owned it already. “Daemon.” 

“I know.” He whispers back, rubbing slow circles on your back. He lifts his head and cradles your face, as if you are made of the most fragile porcelain. “My lady wife.”

“My lord husband.” You answer, equally tender. And it is then that you lift your hips and bring them down again. Daemon gives a punched out moan, hands tightening on your hips. 

You push him down to lay flat on the bed, bracing your hands on his chest to get better leverage. You lift yourself, up and down, until you have worked yourself into a frenzy and cannot stop moaning. 

Under you, Daemon has his eyes closed. His mouth is parted open, and he gives soft moans every time you bring yourself down. His hands are curled around your wrists, gently holding you to him. 

It’s not enough. It’s not enough, it feels like you cannot breathe if you are not near him. You need to be as close as you possibly can, and you need it now. 

You lay yourself down on top of him, until your breasts are squished against his chest. Daemon’s eyes open. He hugs you to him, kissing the crown of your head. 

“Thrust your hips.” You say, starting to lavish his throat with kisses. “I need…” You grind your hips against him, his pubic hair rubbing against your pearl just right. With the way you are laying on top of him, Daemon can’t get enough leverage to do anything more than shallowly thrust. You nearly cry from frustration.

“Shh… Just…” He rolls the two of you over, ungracefully. He grinds his hips against yours, with little to no technique. His back is hunched, hair in complete disarray. The blood - drawn runes on his face have smeared, leaving only red lines in their wake. You wonder if you look as fucked out as Daemon does. The thought makes you clench around him, pleasure building up, and up, until one well aimed thrust makes you scream and reach your peak. 

Daemon collapses next to you, his release painting your thighs. There is silence, for a while. Both of you look at each other, sated and exhausted by the day you have had. And suddenly, there is a pounding on the door. 

“I swear to the Seven, Daemon Targaryen, when I get my hands on you…” The Queen screams, and you dissolve into a fit of giggles.