#i feel like i need to be up deep cleaning and sorting out things i don't need

[rindemption]

Brian: you gotta!

Me: gotta what? What is it boy?! What do I gotta??

Brain: you gotta!!!

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Shameless

Tags: dad!Toji x fem!reader, modern!au, nsfw, mdni, breeding kink, he calls himself daddy

Synopsis: You’re Toji’s live-in nanny. He wants to breed you, and he successfully does so.

An: This is my story on ao3!! You can read it here. If you’re feeling extra nice, a kudos would be cool too.

Being a single dad was hard. Toji learned quickly after his wife's death that he in fact couldn't do this alone. The way little Megumi's big eyes looked up to him for direction... him of all people. He was not cut out for this. Megumi's mom was a wonderful mother: sweet, nurturing, and patient. Toji really didn't know if he was any of those things.

Luckily, her life insurance provided Toji with a relatively comfortable life combined with his job in construction of course. Construction might be his vice. He got away from home for 12 hours a day, and he worked so hard that his brain was mush by the time he was home. Not that he didn't love his son, he did, but every time he looked at Megumi he saw his sweet late wife. He also saw his short comings as a father.

Babysitters quit on him regularly. It was always the same excuse. "Megumi's an angel, but I can't be here 7 days a week. I have a life too." It was incredibly annoying. They'd stay for Megumi but left due to another one of his shortcomings.

Another one quit. That would be the third one this month. "Listen Mr. Fushiguro, I know a friend. She does this sort of thing on a different level. Have you ever considered having a live-in nanny?"

That stupid girl's question enlightened Toji. He had completely forgotten that live-in nannies still existed. After getting her friend's number and paying her what he owed her for her time, Toji relaxed on the couch with little Megumi tucked into his side. The three-year-old was happily babbling next to him, enamored by Toji's phone that was in his hand.

Toji looked at the number dialed into his phone, and he sighed. He was tired of making cold calls to potential babysitters like he was some desperate whore, but maybe, maybe this would be different. He wouldn't mind having a live-in nanny. His house wouldn't mind it either. Toji would be able to finally breathe. No more coming home from 12 hour shifts to pop something to eat in the microwave and wash the dishes. He wouldn't even have to see this so-called nanny often. He could pick up more hours at work with all of his new freedom of not having to worry about pissing off the babysitter.

*** *** ***

Either way, that's how you ended up in Toji's house. For the past three months you had taken care of Megumi, cleaned and deep cleaned his entire house, cooked him plenty of dinners from scratch, and even did his laundry the exact way he preferred. His house has never looked better, and Megumi had never looked so happy.

Despite being here for three months, you barely saw Toji. He seemed to avoid you like the plague and only answer with one-worded answers, which was fine. This was your job, not your actual family. There was no need for extensive communications. Though, you had gushed to your friend plenty over text about how hot "Mr. Fushiguro" was. He was conventionally attractive, yes. But you also always had a thing for the brooding types, and dammit, Toji was brooding. There was also something to be said about how he came home in the evenings. A black wifebeater clinging to his skin from a long day of working out in the sun. His jeans would be dirty from the work he was doing. His skin glistening from a thin sheen of sweat. His hair was always a mess. Goddammit. It was enough to make you feel fertile.

It was early in the morning, Toji was getting ready to go to work. Megumi had woken up, crying for his papa not to leave him. He's going through an extra clingy phase. He's usually okay once Toji's gone.

"Papa!" Megumi cried as Toji entered the living room. You had Megumi in your lap, rocking him with a sleepy look on your face. His tears were wetting your shirt, but you didn't seem to mind.

"He'll be back tonight, Gumi." You shooshed him and continued to try to rock him and pat his back.

Toji's face was unreadable. He was never one to get all upset over Megumi's crying, but hearing his son cry out for him tugged on his heartstrings extra this morning. Then, there was you. You were a godsend to Toji's life. Getting a live-in nanny was one of the best decisions he had ever made. Above that, you were excellent with Megumi. You were sweet... nurturing... patient. He hated how seeing you with his son made him feel. It almost felt like maybe 2 kids wouldn't be that big of a deal. Maybe 3. One on each of your legs and another one swelling in your belly. God. He was disgusted in himself for thinking like that.

"I love you, kiddo." Toji said quickly as he leaned down, giving Megumi's forehead a quick peck. The toddler made grabby hands for him. It was almost enough to make him stay home. Almost. Toji's eyes met yours as he was still leaned over. His face was close to yours. The tension between them were palpable. The moment felt like eternity between them.

Then, a black credit card was in view. "I need new work gloves. Get the extra thick rubber ones, will ya? Also, get whatever you and the kid want. I'll be back late tonight." He handed you the card and sauntered out of the house despite Megumi's pleas for him to stay. You looked at the Amex black card and blinked a couple of times. Only the top earners in the world had cards like this. Toji was just an average blue collar dad... It made you wonder how he got a card like this.

You still spent that shit though.

*** *** ***

Toji looked at his phone on the jobsite. No one dared to tell him to put it away. Toji was the best most competent worker out on the field. He could work circles around supervisors and project managers alike, and he was damn smart. He didn't need a pencil and paper or a calculator to make quick conversions in his head. So, most people stayed out of his way.

He smirked and chuckled at the notifications rolling in from his bank. 78.97 at Target. 21.25 at McDonald's. 43.52 at Barnes and Noble. 9.24 at Starbucks. He was happy you and Megumi were getting to have a little shopping spree.

You were also great at keeping him updated. You sent him lots of pictures and videos of Megumi. He cherished each one of them, immediately getting some of them printed and hung up in his house. There was even a picture of you and Megumi proudly displayed in the living room. In his mind, you were an integral part of the family. The "family" simply would not function if it weren't for you.

A fond smile spread across his face as he opened his messages. A picture of Megumi's little hands trying to fit into his new gloves that she had bought him. Great. She got the right ones. "I think he wants to be just like daddy :)", the message read.

Oh.

Oh.

The twitch that just occurred in his pants should be punishable in a court of law. In no way should he have gotten turned on by that. You were just being nice. It was a normal thing for people to refer to him as "daddy" in that context. It never affected him in the way it was right now.

So anyways, that's how he ended up in the port-a-potty busting a load all over a picture of you that he had on his phone. After the shock of his orgasm that came quicker than ever, he looked down, disappointed in himself. He wasn't some horny teenage boy anymore. This was just downright deplorable. Begrudgingly, he wiped his phone clean from his sins. Post-nut clarity swirled his brain. He couldn't believe he just did that.

He called your number. He had to make things right.

"Hello? Is everything okay?" You immediately asked. After living with Toji for some time now, you learned that he doesn't just call people. He will absolutely decline a call to just text and ask what's up.

"Everything is fine." He replied, trying to hide his amusement. It was cute that you seemed so worried for him. "Are you still in town?"

"Yeah, Megumi and I are about to leave Starbucks and head home. Why? What's up?" You responded back to him. He could hear Megumi happily singing a song in the background.

"You know you spent 152 dollars today?" Toji asked as he popped his back up against the port-a-potty door. He had a lazy smirk on his face.

"Oh- crap. I'm sorry. You can take whatever you see fit out of my pay-" He interrupted your nonsense quickly.

"Do you think I'm poor?" His voice was amused, not angry like you expected it to be.

"What-? No.. no, sir. I was just-"

"I told you to get whatever you and the kid want. Don't come back home until your certain that you can't carry the amount of stuff you bought in one trip." He said quickly. His stomach was already coiling from how you called him sir. He grimaced as he felt another twitch. I just took care of you dammit.

"Oh... oh, okay? Are you su-" Click. He hung up on you. One too many dumb questions. You looked at Megumi as he strapped into the backseat of your car. He looked intrigued by the conversation even though you knew he realistically had no idea what was just said. "Daddy said we have to go to the toy store." You grinned at him. He was smiling and clapping over the word "toy".

234.22 at Toys-R-Us. 122.56 at Lego. 208.38 at Aerie. 88.21 at Ulta Beauty. Another 94.48 at Barnes and Noble.

The way Toji grinned each time he felt that familiar vibration of his phone go off, meaning another notification from his bank was off-putting. Workers on the jobsite never seen him so happy. It was his penance for being such a horny freaky fuck.

*** *** ***

It was later that same evening. Megumi was in the living room surrounded by toys and crafting materials. He was currently drawing all sorts of "shadow animals" as he called them. You would of course look and nod your head, congratulating him on each terribly drawn animal. You acted like that was the best damn wolf-bear-owl hybrid you ever saw.

You were in the kitchen cooking chicken and dumplings. The clock on the stove read seven p.m. You didn't expect to see Toji at all this evening. He said he was working late this morning. Usually, that meant he was dragging his feet in through the door until well past ten p.m.

Still, you made him a serving of chicken and dumpling soup. You always did. Even when he worked late, you would put him a helping of dinner in the microwave to keep warm. You never knew, but he was always delighted by that. He ate the dinners each time.

A key jingling in the door handle caught your attention while you were getting Megumi settled at the dining room table. Three-year-olds were so hard to manage: too small to eat by themselves but too big to be locked in a high chair.

Toji stepped into the living room with a small grunt. He smirked as he looked around at his destroyed living room. Toys, crayons, and pieces of "artwork" were strewn all about the place. He glanced up towards you and Megumi in the kitchen. He took note of how your face was flushed and surprised.

"Papa!" Megumi happily shouted before the little bastard ran from your grasp to go hug on Toji's legs. His dad smiled as he looked down at Megumi, and he used his hand to mess up Megumi's hair affectionately.

"Go eat your food, kiddo." Toji said warmly to his son. Megumi happily obliged and ran right back to his seat right next to you, and you fed him a spoonful of the soup.

"You're home early." You stated the obvious.

Toji would never tell you, but he left early because he missed you two.

"Don't sound too happy to see me." He remarked in a sarcastic tone.

"What-? No, I just.. would've cleaned up more had I known you would be home so soon..." You responded. Megumi was sitting beside you whining for another bite of food. You snapped out of your surprise, and you fed him another bite of chicken and dumplings.

"Why? I don't give a damn what this place looks like." Toji said with a small nonchalant shrug. He walked through the living room, carefully stepping over the toys. Before you had become his nanny, this was how his house normally looked: messy, lived in. "I've got a bowl of dinner in the microwave. My kid's happy and fed. I couldn't care less what that living room looks like."

Your heart fluttered at the sentiment. Toji was easy to please. He really just wanted what was best for his kid, and that was you. "I like making sure you have nothing to worry about." You replied. He looked at you with an unreadable expression. It looked like he might've wanted to say something, but he had backed out last minute. He hummed and walked towards his bedroom to shower the dirt, sweat, and grime from the day.

While Toji showered, you had finished feeding Megumi and yourself. You allowed Megumi to have about an hour of TV time before bed. He really enjoyed old X-Men cartoons. You turned them on for him and parked him on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket.

You hummed softly as you worked in the kitchen. You packed meal prep containers of soup for Toji to take for lunch for the next couple of days. Then, you were washing dishes in front of the sink.

*** *** ***

"I like making sure you have nothing to worry about." Your words repeated in Toji's head over and over like a mantra. He hadn't felt so... cared for in a long, long time. It made his heart feel full, which was an unfamiliar feeling for him. A less unfamiliar feeling was his dick standing fully erect and at attention. He groaned quietly as he leaned his head back in the shower.

Something had to be in the air recently. He was a grown man with desires, sure. But this was a new record for him. Ever since you started being a live-in nanny for him, the boners were a daily thing. Hell, twice or three times a day sometimes. He's tried everything... Well, okay, maybe not everything, but he's tried cold showers and staying away from you. Neither of those things work to soothe him.

His hand was gliding up and down his length for the second time today. He was facing the shower wall with his arm propped up on it, supporting his head. Damn you for making him feel like a slave to his desires. You wanted to make sure he had nothing to worry about? Then, you should be the one in here fixing this damn mess, not him. He pitifully rutted into his hand, imaging he's plunging deep into you. Imagining the multiple ways he'd fuck the hell out of you is the only thing that soothes the ache, but this time he didn't see an end in sight.

He gritted his teeth together, and he balled up his fist, rearing back before stopping himself. He's not a teenager anymore. He can't punch walls. He took a deep breath and turned the shower off. No, this won't do. He needs to fix this at the source.

After quickly drying off and getting dressed, he walked back into the kitchen. His eyes scanned over the house. Megumi was enthralled by the TV, and you were washing dishes. Perfect.

He slowly approached you from behind. He could tell you didn't hear him as you were still softly humming. Usually, you would stop humming if he entered the kitchen. He never understood why. The sounds of your melancholic hums were beautiful and soothing to him.

He was directly behind you, and his hands gently cupped your hips. You immediately flinched and made a soft scream that was quickly silenced by one of his hands. "Shh, we don't want to disturb the little brat, do we?" Toji said into your ear. His warm breath ghosted over the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

Toji's eyes flicked over towards the living room. Megumi hadn't moved an inch. Perfect.

Toji slowly released your mouth. To his delight, you didn't make a sound. He could hear how your breath was slightly labored from him scaring you. A small chuckle rose from his throat. His hands went back to your hips, and he pressed himself against your voluptuous ass. A hum of approval escaped him. He could see your hands gripping the countertops.

"Nod your head. You like this? Want me to keep pressing myself against you?" Toji whispered into your ear. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, and you nodded your head eagerly, giving him consent.

"Dirty fucking girl." His voice was like a growl in your ear as he started to move his hips, dragging his length up and down along you. You could feel each inch of his length beckoning for you. "I knew you'd take whatever I gave you, but this? Letting me grind against you like a pathetic teenager while my son is in the living room? You're such a fucking slut." His hands were digging into your hips as he continued his controlled motions.

"Mnn.. fuck.." You softly whimpered out. Thank god the X-Men were currently in a loud fight scene.

You slightly frowned as you suddenly didn't feel Toji behind you anymore. You were about to turn around and ask what he was doing, but his fingers curling into the waistband of your leggings told you everything you needed to know. "Toji-" You managed to whisper out. No way could you two do this while Megumi was in the next room over.

"Shut up." Toji interrupted you. He had taken his throbbing length out of his sleeping pants, and he had a look of concentration on his face as he angled himself right at your entrance. "You have no fucking idea how long I've needed this. So just be a good girl, shut up, and take what I give you."

Direct orders from your boss. Who were you to deny the man who just spoiled you all day today?

It was a tight fit. Toji wasn't a gentleman. He didn't prep you with his fingers or mouth. This wasn't love making. It was hardly fucking. This was fulfilling a need.

"God... fuck. I didn't expect you to be that tight." He growled into your neck as he held your hips still against him. It felt like he was splitting you apart. You couldn't even respond to him.

He noticed how tightly you were gripping the counter and how you weren't responding to him. Your knuckles were turning white. He almost felt guilty. His hand came around the front of you, and he gently rubbed the swollen bundle of nerves. "Shhh... You can take it. I know you can." He whispered into your ear as it was taking every last shred of self-restraint not to fuck you into oblivion right on this counter. He slowly pulled back until just his tip was inside, and he pushed all the way back in. "That's it. There's my good girl." He praised in your ear. It was not lost on him that he felt you get wetter with each praise.

He hesitated, but he said it anyway, "You wanna be a good girl for daddy, don't you?" He whispered into your ear. That phrase made you tremble in his arms and nod your head. He slowly pulled back out and pushed right back in, taking you slowly. "That's right... hngh, fuck." He moaned into your ear. "You want to be fucked by daddy. You want to take his cock like a good girl. Take it." His hips started to move with more conviction.

You were already so out of it. This was like a dirty fantasy come true. You couldn't help but check the TV a few times to make sure X-Men was still playing. You were still worried that Megumi might run in here for whatever reason and see you bent over in front of his dad. You knew it was unlikely. Megumi could watch that TV like a zombie all day if you let him. Besides, you would be able to hear the small pitter-patter of his footsteps.

"Stop looking at the fucking TV. Trust me." Toji growled into your ear as he forced your hips down onto him roughly. A noiseless gasp escaped you. He wasn't small, and he knew that. He was using it to his advantage.

"Fuck." He groaned quietly as he rubbed you with a bit more fervor. You could already feel that familiar warm feeling coiling in your stomach. "I'm going to fuck a baby into you. You were fucking made for this. Made for raising my kids and taking my fucking load." He was spewing nonsense into your ear, but in the moment, you couldn't help but nod and moan. "You were made for me." He proclaimed as his hips continued harshly snapping into your backside. Somehow the sounds were masked.

"You want that, don't you?" He asked as he bit down on your neck then lapped at the bite mark with his tongue.

"Yes, daddy!" You quietly exclaimed. His thrusts only increased in power. Your eyes started to cross, getting lost in pleasure.

"Fuck. You're gonna look so perfect pregnant with my baby. I won't let you have a break. As soon as one comes out; I'm puttin' another one in you." He continued on yapping about how many kids he was going to pump into you. "I'll breed you again and again." His thrusts were heavy and brutal. You couldn't take it anymore.

He moaned as he felt you clenching around him, finishing all over his cock. It was enough to drive him overboard. He pumped you full of cum until you were sure some of it was seeping out.

There was a peaceful moment of dizzy highness for you two. Toji panted against your back. For the first time in while, he's felt satisfied. A soft amused laugh escaped him as he heard the iconic X-Men episode coming to an end. He swiftly pulled out of you, and he tried to ignore that little whimper of protest you let out. He tucked himself back into his pants, and he pulled your leggings and panties back up for you since you were still a trembling mess over the counter.

"Alright Kiddo, c'mon. Time for bed." Toji said as he sauntered off into the living room as if he didn't just rearrange your guts. He put Megumi to bed that night, and he cleaned up the living room for you, allowing for you to recover in his bed for round two. He was much more of a gentleman for round two.

*** *** ***

"Hey... I know I ain't been to see you in a while. I'm sorry." Toji said as he sat down on the grassy ground. "I was letting life pass me by for too damn long." He said as he took a wet washcloth and began to wash up his late wife's gravestone. "I'm doing better now, so don't worry about me."

"Megumi's growing like a weed. I'm sorry I didn't bring him to see you... I just don't know how to explain it to him." Toji's voice was full of guilt as he dragged the wet washcloth against the stone. "He's a good kid though. He looks just like you, damn bastard." He softly laughed, knowing his wife would've struck him over the side of the head for calling Megumi a damn bastard.

"Listen... I met a girl." He leaned his head over the gravestone. It had been close to three months since you and Toji started sleeping together. There wasn't a formal label to your relationship, but it didn't feel necessary. You two both knew you were sleeping exclusively with each other. "I think you'd like her, or maybe you wouldn't since she's fucking your husband. But either way... I-" He choked up a bit as he held onto the cold stone. "I feel so fucking guilty... I know you're not coming home anytime soon, but I just... I need your blessing. If you can somehow hear me, please... I never asked you for anything until I asked you to marry me. Now, I'm asking... please somehow show me you approve of this."

"She's good for me... She takes good care of Megumi. He's so damn attached to her somedays." Toji softly laughed as he remembered how a few nights ago Megumi crawled into bed with you and him because he had a nightmare. Instead of taking to Toji like he normally does, he crawled into your arms. Toji had never felt so damn proud and slighted at the same time.

"I should get going. Give me a sign though.. Something that tells me you approve." He finished his visit with his wife, and he went home.

*** *** ***

That night at dinner, Megumi sped into the kitchen with an action figure in his hand. He was pretending to be Batman. "Gumi, I've told you three times. Stop running." You said as you gave the small child a look. Toji smirked as he knew that look good and well. It was the look a mom gave as a warning. Megumi was on his last warning.

"I'm sorry, mama." Megumi apologized, causing for both you and Toji to freeze right in your tracks. Megumi had never called you mama before. He always said your name.

Your heart swelled in your chest. It was a feeling of affection and guilt. "Oh no... baby.." You said softly as you took his hand. You lead him into the living room, and you crouched down, showing him a picture of his mom to him. "That's mama." You gently corrected him.

Toji watched the scene like a hawk from the dinner table. His heart was pounding in his chest. He had never been shy about telling Megumi who his mom was, but he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about how his mom passed away when he was a small baby.

Megumi pointed at the picture. "Mama." He said quietly. You nodded and patted his head.

"That's right." You praised affectionately. He then turned his attention to you. and he poked your chest with his tiny finger.

"Mama." He said, pointing at you.

"No-"

"It's alright." Toji spoke up from his seat at the dinner table.

"I don't want him to be confused..." You replied as you slowly stood back up, looking at Toji.

"He doesn't sound confused to me." He retorted with a small grin. You turned your attention back to Megumi, and Toji looked up towards the ceiling. "Thank you." He muttered so quietly before kissing the necklace that hung around his neck. He had his wife's blessing. This proved it.

After finishing his dinner, Toji joined you two in the living room. You and Megumi were curled up on each side of his while watching that old X-Men cartoon. Suddenly, Megumi rose from the couch. You and Toji watched him with a hint of confusion.

"What is he doing?" You softly asked Toji as Megumi bent over, and he looked between his legs at both you and Toji.

"I have no fucking id-" He was about to respond, but then, it hit him. "Get up." He said as he stood up from the couch. He quickly grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet like a madman.

"What? What? Is something wrong?" You asked as you had never seen Toji move this fast. You quickly got up too.

"Nothing's wrong. Come on. We're going to the store." He grunted as he swooped Megumi into his arms.

You were confused and in denial when Toji bought a pregnancy test and made you take it. Now, both of you were waiting outside of the bathroom for the five minutes to be over. "This is crazy, Toji. I'm not pregnant."

"It's an old wives' tale. When babies do that, it's supposed to mean their looking for their sibling." Toji said with a nonchalant shrug as if what he said was matter-of-fact. "My mother told me that's how she knew she was pregnant with me."

The timer went off on his phone, and both of you fought to get into the bathroom first. He eventually overpowered you and snatched the pregnancy test off the counter quickly. "Oh." He said quietly. The room went still.

Suddenly, your heart was racing. "What is it? Is it negative?" You asked a hint of disappointment hit you. You didn't know why, but a small part of you hoped for it to be positive.

"Oh, you're fucking getting it tonight." Toji smirked as he turned the pregnancy test over. Two pink lines were clear as day on the test. You're pregnant.

Tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog @theuniversesnepobaby

[fangirl-dot-com]

☀️Sons, Sons, and More Sons

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader Genre: Fluff/SMAU Summary: Ollie, Leo, Liam, who's next Oscar? Oh.

inspired by @pucksandpower 😊

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

“CHARLES!”

The said Monegasque, who had been “innocently” snuggling his four-legged son, winced at the force and volume of your voice. 

He was currently going through everything that might have upset you in the past 20 minutes from when he got home to you just now getting out of the shower. Did he leave the toilet seat up again? Or did he forget to sort the laundry? Or maybe he didn’t clean up Leo’s toys from the bedroom? 

“Why is my Twitter blowing up?” 

Oh. That’s why. 

He whispered to Leo, “I’m in for it now.” 

And then in a louder voice he yelled, “Yes mon amour?” 

You rounded the corner of the hallway and stopped in the opening to the living room, crossing your arms. “Care to tell me why I’m getting tagged in almost every Twitter post about you adopting Oscar?” 

You wanted to break at the puppy eyes that your boyfriend was currently giving you, but you needed to stay strong. You needed to show that a man could not sway your feelings. Too bad that man was Charles Leclerc, the one that men and women alike fell to worship the ground beneath his feet. 

You couldn’t break. 

Charles brought his hand up to ruffle his hair, something he did to express some nervousness. 

“Cheri, it was just a joke. Oscar somehow finds heritage in a lot of countries. He just wanted to keep the joke going.” 

“So you decided to ‘adopt’ him so he can have another home race?” 

“Maybe?” 

“Don’t you already have enough sons anyway? I think four is too many or our house is going to overflow on family night.” 

Charles’s eyebrows pinched in confusion. “Four?” 

Now it was your turn to smirk. “Yes, four. Or are you too busy having fun with Leo to be a present father to your other two?” 

Charles tried to wrack his brain about who could be the other two. 

“Ollie?” 

“Bingo.” 

He leaned back into the couch, hands still gently petting Leo who had decided to fall asleep in the middle of his parent’s squabbles. The golden puppy was content on his dad’s warm chest, the rise and fall rocking him to sleep. 

The Ferrari driver sighed. “I don’t even know.” 

You waved your phone at him. “Twitter might be able to help you. I need to get dressed since I was rudely interrupted. I hope you find out before they get here for dinner.” 

Charles shot up making Leo yelp away from his nap. Now that he was really looking at you, he realized that you were just in a towel. A blush formed on his face, still having those boyish thoughts that he believed he was better than that. 

You walked over and bent down, face getting closer to his. 

Ah. You were going to forgive him and all would be right in the world once your lips met his. You wanted to laugh as you saw his eyes flutter shut, lips slightly puckering. 

Charles was wondering what was taking you so long when your finger touched his lips. His eyes shot open and he definitely did not whimper. You looked down at your fur-baby and gently picked him up, bringing Leo to your chest. 

“Twitter. Figure it out Leclerc.” 

Now a bit sullen, he watched you walk away. 

���Je t’aime!” 

He was responded to with a middle finger and the bedroom door slamming. A chuckle made its way from his chest as he brought his phone out. If there was one thing that you two did well, it was dramatics. 

Twitter was immediately opened once he got his phone out. He scrolled through all the tags before giving up and opening your profile. He winced at the sight of the white background, cursing his phone for updating and not keeping the dark profile. 

However, he couldn’t contain his laugh as he saw your new updated tweet. He leaned his head back, still giggling to himself. 

Charles knew that you two wanted kids at some point. But between his Formula 1 career and your business on the uprise, children really wouldn’t work well now. But deep down, he liked the idea of having a few grid kids. 

He took a minute to stop giggling before he continued his search. His eyes widened as he stopped on one of the family trees that some fan made. 

There was Leo, adopted by you and him. 

Then Ollie, who fans say that Charles conceived himself somehow. 

Oscar was newer, but still had the adopted dotted line. 

And then . . . 

Ooohhhhhhh, so that’s who he was missing. 

You took that moment to come out of the bedroom, hair now dry and fluffy from your Dyson. Leo was still in your arms, looking more awake than he had when he was with Charles. You sat down next to him, Charles taking the opportunity to put an arm around you, bringing you in closer. 

“You smell good amour.” 

You turned and smiled, leaning in to finally give him a kiss after a long day. 

“Thank you. It’s the lotion that you bought me.” 

He let out a low hum and just kept you in his arms. Leo was squirming a bit before he finally flopped over and settled in between your two bodies. 

“I figured out who our other son is.” 

Your head now rested in the crook of his neck. “Did you now.” 

“Yes. I am a stepfather to Liam?” 

Your shoulders shook with giggles. “Not the stepfather, but the father who stepped up.” 

“You spend way too much on Twitter.” 

You looked up at him, and Charles turned to look down at you. You leaned in closer to rub your noses together, giving him eskimo kisses. The Ferrari driver just closed his eyes and basked in the moment between you. 

There weren’t many times that he got something like this. So quiet and peaceful. His world was filled with so much noise. But here, he could melt into the quiet. 

“We should have dinner here with the boys after the Grand Prix on Sunday.” 

“That sounds nice. I can make the food.” 

You sat up slightly, elbow bent on the back of the couch and head resting on your hand. 

“You want to show off your cooking skills to your sons to prove that you can cook.”

Charles huffed. “I am the provider chéri.” 

You cocked your head at the Monegasque. “Whose name is on the lease mon bebe?” 

A huff was the answer, which made you cuddle Charles closer still being aware of the little baby between you. A small nip to your fingertip made you pick Leo up, now holding him close to your face. 

“Were you getting a bit jealous of papa ma petit amour?” you asked the blonde dachshund in a baby voice. If Charles wasn’t already fully in love with you, his love would have been solidified in this moment. 

While watching, he suddenly remembered something. “Oscar wanted to meet Leo in McLaren hospitality this weekend.” 

You turned with a raised eyebrow. “Why not Ferrari?” 

“Eh.” 

It was as if you had a lightbulb moment. “Ohhhhhhh, right. That makes sense. I can stop by and let you know when I get there.” 

What you hadn’t expected was to pick up Liam and Ollie on your way to the now green outside of the McLaren hospitality. Leo was still curled up in your arms, eyes blinking every so often. You knew that if it wasn’t so busy, the little puppy would be sound asleep. 

“He’s so cute,” Oscar said, walking forward and hands outstretched. You gently gave him over to the “older brother” of the three. 

Ollie laughed. “I know right. He’s so cuddly.” 

Liam joined in, “I don’t think I put him down the entire time I got to meet him.” 

Oscar stared at you three for a moment. “Yeah, you aren’t getting him back.” 

You shook your head. “Speak to your father first, Oscar.” 

Chuckles erupted from all around, making you laugh as well. You took your phone out and took a quick picture of Oscar holding Leo to post later. 

“Is dad on his way?” Ollie asked after sipping on his water bottle. 

You rolled your eyes. “Should be. Ah, there he is.” 

Charles stepped foot into the room and immediately found you surrounded by his “kids.” His heart may have melted seeing Leo flopped in Oscar’s arms. He gave you a kiss on your cheeks before he greeted the three. 

“This is hilarious,” he said, making everyone laugh yet again. 

You rested a hand on your forehead. “We’re just missing Liam’s dad, and then we’ll be one big happy family.” 

The Kiwi crossed his arms, but a giant smile was on his face. “So much for having a present father in my life. I’m jealous.” 

Charles gripped your waist and puffed his chest. “I’m not the stepfather, but the father that stepped up.” 

“Charles, no you aren’t. Can’t even handle three kids.” 

You and Charles turned around to see Max now stepping through the door. The Monegasque raised his eyebrow. 

“And you can?” 

You raised a hand. “That’s my que to leave. I will not be in the middle of a Lestappen-father showdown. Boys, you can follow me.” 

“Yes mum.”

“Lead the way.” 

“Can I still keep Leo?” 

Charles and Max gawked as the three older boys followed you like ducks in a row. After he got over the shock, the Ferrari driver was left with a love-sick smile on his face. 

“Yeah. I’m marrying her.” 

“Gross.” 

“Max. Shut up.” 

y/n_l/n has posted

liked by y/nismother, charles_leclerc, liamlawson, and 1,304,295 others y/n_l/n look at my sons . . . pride is not the word I'm looking for

see all comments

y/nismother the mother is mothering

charliexy/n honestly, they all take after him so much. I need to go to twitter

olliebearman then what is the word you're looking for mom 🤨

liamlawson30 I knew she wasn't proud of us

oscarpiastri this is why dad is better

y/n_l/n I'm taking away all of your sims and ps5's

olliebearman I take it back, mom is the best

oscarpiastri81 this is the best thing to happen this weekend

charles_leclerc my family 🫶

maxverstappen1 you stole my son from me.

liamlawson30 they had free ice cream 🤷

y/n_l/n 😊

maxverstappen1 I'm taking pole then

charles_leclerc ☹️

lestappenlove I love the entire family your honor

leclerc16charles does Leo need another sibling? cause I can bark

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[katsukimybf]

bc all i think abt is college!katsuki

Katsuki Bakugou is the epitome of the type of friend where you don’t actually know if you are friends.

It started off slow and gradual; a head nod when you sat next to him in class for the first time. You didn’t think much of it at first—just Bakugou being Bakugou, cold and distant as can be. But then came the day the professor prompted the class to discuss the reading with the person next to you. Oh boy.

Distant caves would be jealous of him as he offered impressive silence. He sat there with his arms crossed, glaring at the textbook like it had personally offended him. You tried your best to speak about the text, feeling the weight of his weightless replies, and occasionally he’d grunt or nod, but the conversation resembled your middle school talent show performance. Awkward, yes, but not surprising for a college class.

Still, you found yourself sitting next to him every couple of days, the unspoken rules of college and assigned seating habits pulling you back into his orbit. You tried to be kind, offering small talk here and there, but Bakugou always brushed you off with a grunt or a glare. He was prickly, always on edge, and you figured that was just how he was.

You were like this too on most days. After having your fair share of college-creep experiences you laid off the whole talking to people bit. But there was this exception you made for Bakugou. Not an exception but a curiosity of some sorts. Hell, you also were never good at math but you were on edge to solve the missing variable that is Katsuki Bakugou. Seriously, what's his deal?

Maybe it was the way he didn’t care of how he seemed, it could be the mystery or maybe it was just the fact he looked like he was carved by Lysippos sitting by you at 9 a.m. lecture. Those thoughts were in the back of your mind… you even wonder if Bakugo is good at math? maybe then he could help.

But then there were these odd moments, moments where his usual gruffness gave way to something else. Like the day you mentioned how thirsty you were, sitting there in that old, sweltering classroom with no air conditioning. Bakugou rolled his eyes, muttered something about “are you always unprepared?” (he lent you a pen once before) but then wordlessly reached into his bag and handed you a water bottle.

“Thanks,” you say, trying to match his nonchalant demeanor. Trying to let it go.

But the gesture stuck with you. He didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t say anything more. He just went back to his notebook like nothing happened. Typical. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of slight butterflies in your stomach, even if you tried to brush them off as nothing.

Things continued in much the same way. Bakugou, still gruff and abrasive, but every now and then, something would slip through the cracks. A quiet moment of consideration, a begrudging act of kindness. He never let you get too close, but there was always that flicker of kindness. Of Bakugou. The real him, you think.

It was a rainy afternoon when you found yourself stranded at a bus stop with him. The two of you had just finished class, and the rain came out of nowhere, pouring down in quick splatters. You both stood under the narrow shelter that barely helped. Bakugou was glaring up like he was challenging the sky to a duel while his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

He didn’t acknowledge you at first. And you didn’t think he would.

“You’re gonna catch a cold standing out here,” he grumbled suddenly, his voice low and annoyed.

Before you could reply, he was already shrugging off his jacket and, without looking at you, shoved it in front of you. He urged you to take it but you blinked in surprise, not knowing how to react.

But then, you felt the weight of the jacket warm and heavy on your skin. The scent of him—something sharp and clean—lingered in the fabric.

“Bakugou, you don’t have to—”

“Shut up. I don’t need your thanks,” he muttered, not meeting your gaze. He chose to stare at the rain instead.

“Thank you.”

He rolled his eyes but from that moment, something shifted. The dynamic between you two wasn’t any less tense, and he still barked at you when you got on his nerves, but the hostility had softened, just a little. There was still sharpness in his words, but now mixed in with these brief, unexpected moments of kindness? (for Bakugou, normal for everyone else)

The day before your big exam, you sat next to him in class, anxiety buzzing in your stomach. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” you asked, peeking over at him.

“Yeah,” he grunted, eyes not leaving his textbook.

You turned back to your seat, mentally patting yourself on the back for initiating (yet another) pointless conversation. But then, after a pause, Bakugou spoke again.

“Wanna review the material after class?”

You blinked, a little caught off guard, but quickly nodded. “Sure.”

And so after class, he led the way to the library, not even waiting for you to catch up. He moved with purpose, his sharp eyes scanning the room for a quiet, secluded spot. When he finally sat down and pulled out his notes, you were surprised to see how meticulously organized everything was—color-coded, labeled, every detail in its place. So he probably is good at math? You were definitely getting somewhere.

He started drilling you with questions, breaking down complicated concepts with a precision you hadn’t expected. His intensity was relentless, but it pushed you to focus, to work harder, and slowly, your understanding of the material started to click into place.

Hours passed in a blur, and the sun began to set outside the windows. The two of you were still going over definitions when Bakugou glanced over at you. “You get it now?”

“Yeah,” you said, a small smile on your lips. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

“Good,” he muttered, turning back to his notes, but something about the way he said it felt less harsh than usual.

But all this time of him testing you made you want to test him. Probably because you suspected how sexy he’d look getting every question right…

You smirked, feeling a little bold. “Aw, not you caring if I understand the material.”

He shot you a glare and his face twitched like he was holding back a grin. “I don’t,” he snapped, though his tone lacked the usual bite.

“You just looked so damn scared earlier, it was pathetic.”

You faked a small gasp at that. He wanted to laugh.

“Aww, are you worried about me being sad?” you teased, leaning in a little closer. “It’s almost like we’re friends or something.”

“Shut up,” he growled, his face turning slightly red.

That’s not a no, you think. You laughed, the sound light in the quiet library, and for the first time, you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, barely there, but real.

Quaint and underneath all his surroundings lied Bakugou Katsuki. Almost as if he were labeled X in some math problem.

So yeah… he’s cold and mean and gruff, but… you know he has your back with exams… and when you’re cold, and when you say you're thirsty, and when you need something nice to look at. Definitely, Katsuki Bakugou is your friend…

That happens to have a massive crush on you.

(… and unashamedly, so do you.)

[smileysuh]

dark protector

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

tw/cw. mentions of past relationship abuse/trauma/cheating, alcohol, bar fights, Cheol gets grazed with a knife, unprotected sex, dry humping, hand job, blow job, pussy eating, fingering, pleasure dom!Cheol, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, size kink/manhandling, multiple reader orgasms, groping, Cheol is a big muscled tattooed man, creampie, birthday sex, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 14.2k

🍭 aus. tattoo/motorcycle au, nurse!reader, soulmates, etc…

☀️ mlist + an.  The tarot deck used in the prologue is ‘The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Guide Deck’ by Kim Krans. I had so much fun exploring a more spiritual-themed plot, the idea of soulmates and spirit guides and such :)

Prologue

It’s been six months since your breakup. Six months of self-work and healing practices. Six months of connecting with your spirit guides, hoping you can work through this dark period of your life and come out the other side.

You’ve just gotten off a long shift at the hospital, where you work as an emergency room nurse. Cleaning up other people’s messes makes you feel a little more whole every day, it shows you that while your wounds might be deeper than the skin, you have the resources to fix things that seem unfixable.

After a shower, you slump onto your couch, your hands reaching for one of your tarot decks. It’s as if you can feel the energy radiating off your spirit animal cards, and you remove them carefully from the box, holding them close to your chest.

“Spirit,” you say softly. “I think I’m finally ready to try dating again. But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll end up in the same situation as last time, finding a man who needs to be fixed- I know my pattern is finding broken men, and I’m done with that. I need guidance. I need some sort of sign that will show up when I meet the right person.”

Part of your healing journey was writing down what traits you’d want in a partner. You’d made a list that included, ‘kind, smart, patient, stable, loyal, and protective,’ and you’d folded to your own physical tastes by writing ‘tattoos’ as well. You can’t help it, you like the way art looks on skin, and although all the tatted bad boys you’ve dated in the past have been assholes, you’re holding onto a hope that you can find a good man with tattoos. You know they’re out there, you just have to find one.

“Spirit, can you help me pull a card, and whatever animal is on that card could be a tattoo that my future significant other would have?” you ask. “Please don’t choose a lion or a wolf or something super common- I want an animal that is a little more unique, something that couldn’t just be coincidence… but, I mean, if my soulmate is meant to have a wolf then I guess I can make that work.”

You hate questioning your guides, hate putting boundaries on them. If your soulmate has a stupid, overdone tattoo like every other man with ink, then so be it.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to shuffle your spirit animal deck. 

You’re not being too fast with your shuffle, you prefer to sit for a long time and wait for cards to pop out rather than force a reading with erratic motions. Focusing on your breathing, and your ask from the spirit, you wait patiently.

Soon, a card pops out, landing on the coffee table in front of you.

An Elk looks up at you, and you take a moment to assess the card before finding the guide book.

You flip to the Earth section, finding the Elk easily. There are a few keywords at the top of the reading, they say ‘Stable, resilient, headstrong, the father.’

Stable is a word you’d written into your boyfriend manifestation notes, and you consider that for a moment before reading further. 

“The great Elk represents the Earth element in its masculine form. This means it provides underlying support and stability amidst life’s many changes. An Elk personality is fully established in themselves and knows their core values. They become known and respected for acting in ways that uphold those values. Sometimes the Elk’s ego can become inflated, but for the most part, they make damn good fathers, mothers, lovers, and friends. The world needs more elk energy.”

You think about the type of man who could be stable, whether that’s financially or emotionally. You’re hoping to find a man as set and in love with his job as you are- the kind of man you could build a future with. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about kids, and the note that Elk personalities make good fathers and lovers makes the feeling of hope stir within you.

However, the Elk - like the Lion and the Wolf -  is a pretty common tattoo. 

“I’m wondering if I should ask for a second card,” you tell your guides. “This deck has numerous animals connected to zodiac signs. Fish for Pisces, Scorpion for Scorpio… I know not all zodiacs have an animal correlated to them, so I won’t use this as a defining factor, but… maybe to make things even a little more specific, could you help me pull a card to represent the zodiac sign for my future Elk tattooed boyfriend?” 

This feels like a lot. And you’re aware that there are only a few cards in this large deck that will actually connect to the zodiac, so you prepare yourself for a dud card.

You begin to shuffle, and this time, a card pops out even faster than the first. It’s face down on your coffee table, and you take a breath, willing this to be a sign.

When you flip the card, you find a lion staring up at you.

The lion is correlated with the Leo zodiac, and you swallow thickly, thinking about the traits generally connected to Leos. The words that come to mind are ‘confident, loyal, ambitious, and protective,’ two of which are traits you’d manifested.

You find your guidebook again, reading the top line of traits: “Patient, regal, a complete master.”

“The Lion is a master of the fire element and the living mascot of self-transformation. A lion personality dedicates their life to personal and spiritual growth. This dedication inspires some and intimidates others, therefore the Lion is respected by all but known intimately by few. Some mistake the Lion as hard to access or aloof, yet those with a keener eye know better. Lions are observant, stealth, and precise in their words and actions. They do not waste energy or resources. This card reminds us that self-mastery is available to all, no matter where our quest begins.”

You consider your reading as you put your deck away and head to bed. A Leo man with an Elk tattoo, someone who is patient, stable, headstrong, loyal, and maybe a little egotistical, but hopefully not in any ways that would be damaging to you like your narcissist of an ex-boyfriend.

You’re prepared to not find a man who fits this bill, but you feel a little better about narrowing down the traits you’re attracted to. Some people don’t believe in tarot, and while you can understand that, this reading has spoken to you in a way that you can’t quite explain.

There’s no timeline to the reading, and you won’t be restricting yourself waiting for a man with an Elk tattoo to sweep you off your feet, but it feels a little easier having some parameters. 

When you fall asleep, you dream of a large man standing in shadows, Elk-like antlers protruding from his head. 

One:

“Tell me again how you found out about this place?” you sigh, getting out of your best friend’s car to stare at the tattoo studio.

“God, I’ve told you a hundred times,” Sunmin rolls her eyes. “One of my sister’s boyfriend’s cousins’s boyfriends work here.”

“I’m going to need you to say that slower.”

“My sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, his cousin is dating one of the artists here, and he says they’re all super hot. And I figured, since your tarot cards told you a few months ago that you’ll find some dude with an elk, a tattoo shop is a good place to look for him.”

“Okay, but please don’t bring up the actual tarot,” you plead. “People judge me for that shit all the time.”

“My lips are sealed but my eyes will be wide open,” she grins.

The two of you enter the tattoo shop, and the air conditioning is a welcome reprieve from the hot summer outside. Your friend chats with the receptionist about her consultation with an artist named Vernon, and soon the two of you are being escorted deeper into the studio.

It’s an open plan layout, with small sections for each artist. Only one man is currently tattooing someone, and you suppose that since it’s the morning, they likely get busier as the day goes on.

There’s a large man who approaches you and your friend as you sit in Vernon’s section. “Hi! You must be Vernon’s ten o’clock consultation! I’m Mingyu. Vernon’s just chatting with our boss in the back, but he’ll be out pretty quick.”

“Hi, I’m Sunmin and this is y/n,” your friend introduces you. “We have no problem waiting.”

“Cool. I don’t have a client for a while, I can keep you guys company while you wait for Vernon if you’d like.”

“We’d love that,” Sunmin beams. 

“How did you guys hear about us?” Mingyu asks, taking a seat on the tattoo artist chair.

“My sister’s boyfriend’s cousin is dating one of the guys who work here,” Sunmin explains.

“Is your sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan?” 

You’re shocked the man was able to follow what Sunmin just said.

“Yup! That’s him!” Sunmin confirms.

“Love that guy,” Mingyu grins. “Yeah, I’m dating his cousin. He told me he’d tell others about the shop but I didn’t think he’d actually follow through with it.”

“Well, here he is, following through,” Sunmin laughs. 

“So is this tattoo consult for you?”

Sunmin nods. “Yup! I’ve always liked ink, got a few small pieces, but I wanted something bigger for my thigh.” 

“How about you?” Mingyu asks. “Any future tattoo plans?”

“Not at the moment,” you respond, gaze shifting to a door that leads to the office in the back. Two men have come out, they’re both quite handsome, dressed in oversized hoodies that obscure any ink on their torsos. 

“I’ve actually been looking at elk tattoos,” Sunmin lies, “know anyone with anything like that?”

Mingyu opens his mouth to respond, but one of the men from the back is already approaching. “Hi, are you Sunmin?” he asks.

“That’s me,” your best friend beams.

“I’m Vernon,” the soft looking man smiles. Mingyu gets out of his seat, bidding a quick farewell before going back to his own section. As Vernon and Sunmin begin to talk about her tattoo plans, you find your eyes shifting to the man who must be the boss as he walks over to inspect the tattoo taking place.

He’s got a nice build, and you can see the outline of strong shoulders even from under his large black hoodie. He rolls up the sleeves, and you can see he’s heavily inked, but from a distance, you can’t make out any elk-like marks. 

Sunmin had done her best to try to ask Mingyu about a tattoo fitting what your tarot had told you to watch out for, but you suppose you shouldn’t be shocked that your soulmate isn’t in the first shop you’ve gone into. 

You relax against your chair, listening to Sunmin and Vernon talk.

You’ll do your best to find your Elk inked Leo, but you suppose you can’t rush the process.

Two: 

You’re at a bar with friends when you hear a commotion just outside. As the designated driver of the night, you haven’t touched any drinks, and although it might not be anything serious, your emergency room nurse instincts kick in, drawing you to the possible danger as you quickly make your way to the front of the bar.

You catch the tail end of what’s happening, one bouncer chasing after some guy who’s booking it down the street, and another man being held back by a second security guard. 

The man being held back looks enraged, and he manages to break out of the bouncers grasp- which is when you see blood on the back of his white shirt.

“Fuck that guy,” the injured man snarles, and when he turns, you catch a glimpse of his profile.

It’s the man from the tattoo parlour, the one you assumed was the boss.

While he looks extremely pissed off, you can’t help but approach. “Excuse me,” you say quietly, grabbing his attention. “You’re bleeding.”

“Am I?” He looks over his shoulder, grabbing at his shirt where the blood is. “Fuck, he must have grazed me.”

Must have grazed him… with a knife?

“I’m uh… I’m an ER nurse, do you mind if I take a look?” you ask.

“I’ll grab the first aid kit,” the bouncer tells you, darting back into the bar.

“I’m fine,” the tattooed man tells you.

“Then there’s no harm in me taking a look to confirm that.” You try to smile softly at him.

The man looks at you, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“I think I was at your parlour last week, my friend had a consult,” you explain. “I’m y/n.”

He looks you up and down. “Seungcheol.”

You can see the anger and tension dissipating from his shoulders. 

“Why don’t you take a seat on the curb and I’ll look at your shoulder?” you suggest.

Seungcheol sighs, but does as he’s told. He sits down, grabbing at the back of his shirt. You catch him wince as he tugs the bloodied fabric off, and you’re shocked at what’s revealed.

It’s not the slight gash that makes you take a step back, it’s the Elk head tattoo on the center of his spine, with large antlers tangling up toward the back of his neck.

“Is it that bad?’ Seungcheol asks, looking over his shoulder at you again.

“No, it’s not that.” You do your best to compose yourself, kneeling down to look at the wound, although your eyes keep going back to the Elk. 

The bouncer returns with the first aid kit, and Seungcheol sits there quietly while you clean the wound. “You’re right that it was a graze, but I still think stitches would be a good idea,” you tell him.

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Seungheol responds while you press gauze to the wound, bandaging him up with medical tape. 

“Why not?”

“I just don’t like hospitals,” the beefy tattooed man says simply.

You release a sigh. “Listen, I’m going to give you my number, and if there’s any sign of infection, call me, okay?”

“You said you're an emergency room nurse, right?” he asks, standing up when you finish with his shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Words evade you as you look at his chiseled chest, and you do your best not to be too obvious at the way you’re gawking at him.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I did to piss off the dude with the knife?”

“It’s not important,” you respond quickly. “You identified it as a knife wound, and that’s all I needed to know.”

“I was in the emergency room one time, got stabbed by some kid outside a strip club, the nurses kept pestering me about the details. It’s one of the reasons I don’t like hospitals,” Seungcheol explains.

“Well, your business is your business,” you tell him. “All I care about is that your wound doesn’t get infected, and you take care of it if you’re not getting stitches.”

Seungcheol’s gaze feels hot as he stares at you, and then he pulls his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Here. For your number.”

Your fingers are shaky as you type in your digits before handing it back to him, and you can’t help but notice the way your hands briefly touch.

“I need a drink,” Seungcheol says. “You coming back inside? I’ll buy you something, as a thank you for not pestering me.”

“No thanks is necessary,” you try to assure him, but Seungcheol is already reaching for your hand.

“Don’t fight this,” he tells you. “Let me say thank you in the way that I know how.”

You allow the big burly man to guide you back into the bar. He orders himself a shot of tequila, then turns to you expectantly.

“Uh, can I get an iced tea?” you ask.

“Not drinking?”

“I’m the designated driver tonight,” you explain. “My friends are over there-” you turn and catch your whole table of friends staring at you. 

Seungcheol follows your gaze and smirks, offering your friends a small wave. “Okay, so you're a stay in your lane ER nurse, and you’re a designated driver.”

“That sums it up I guess,” you laugh.

“She’ll get an iced tea,” Seungcheol tells the bartender.

You like that he’s not pushing you. Some people pressure you to drink when you’re out, but you like to have your head screwed on straight on your shoulders. You never know when an emergency is going to happen, and your soul calling is helping people. On top of that, it’s nearly midnight, and you’ve got a shift in five hours that you need to be sober for.

“I’m trying to find red flags with you, you know?” Seungcheol says nonchalantly. “But so far, I’m not seeing any.”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t have any?” you suggest.

“I’ve been told I’m a walking red flag,” Seungcheol muses. 

“Tattoos can be deceiving,” you point out, although, studies do show that people with trauma are more likely to be inked- all your ex’s have had tattoos, and they’ve all had dark pasts. You can’t help you type, and staring at the man with the elk on his back, you wonder if this is going to be just another repetition. 

Your drinks are set in front of you and you watch Seungcheol down his tequila shot. He shakes his head out a little at the taste, and you appreciate the way his dark curls look with the motion. 

“Anyways, you’re here with friends, I won’t keep you,” he sighs.

“Thanks for the iced tea,” you smile softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Seungcheol nods.

You mirror the movement, grabbing your drink and heading back to your table.

The moment you’re seated, all your friends erupt into chatter.

“Who was that?!” one asks.

“He was hot!” another friend notes.

“Wasn’t that the dude from the tattoo shop?” Sunmin questions, looking after Seungcheol. “Is he… bleeding?”

“Yeah, it’s the guy from the parlour,” you sigh. “His name is Seungcheol, and yes, someone tried to stab him outside.”

“Jesus!” Sunmin’s eyes widen. “But… he bought you a drink?”

“I just cleaned the wound and bandaged it,” you explain. “He insisted on getting me a drink.”

“Well… that’s nice, isn’t it?” one of your friends says thoughtfully.

“I guess.” It’s clear you don’t want to talk about this further, and your friends quickly go back to discussing something else, but you inch closer to Sunmin. “He has a tattoo.”

“He has a lot of tattoos,” she laughs.

“No, he has like… this big elk head and antlers on his back.”

“What?!” 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” you warn her, not wanting her to raise her voice too loud so your other friends hear. You’re quite private about your spiritual leanings. Being a woman of science, and ER nurse no less, sometimes it feels like believing in fate isn’t something that works well with your job.

“We’re talking about this later,” Sunmin tells you.

“Yeah.”

You sit back, thinking about it.

Obviously your interaction with Seungcheol was short. He came off as a bit of a hot head, perhaps you’d even use the word brash- there was certainly a level of ego that radiated off of him as well, but, at the same time, he’s one of the most handsome tattooed men you’ve ever met.

You’d asked your guides for a sign, and tonight, the Elk had bared its antlered head.

Now it’s up to you to decide if you trust in fate, or if this is all just a coincidence. 

Three:

You’re about seven hours into your eight hour shift. Having started at five am, after being a designated driver and getting your friends home at three, you’re quite tired. Things were very busy for a while in the emergency room, but for whatever reason now that it’s noon, things have seemed to calm down a little.

You’re just sitting in the nurse station with your coworker Joshua when your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s an unknown number, and at first, you’re not sure if you should answer it.

Against your better judgement, you bring your phone to your ear, “Hello?”

“Is this the stay in your lane ER nurse who’s also the designated driver?”

You let out a sigh. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, you.”

“Hi, Seungcheol.”

“Hi. So, I tried to stitch up the wound when I got home, and I’m not sure if I did a good job.”

“You tried to stitch it up?” you ask, already exasperated. “Why didn’t you ask me to do it at the bar?”

“I just didn’t,” he says simply.

“Send me a pic of the stitches,” you instruct.

“One sec.”

You wait patiently, and Joshua catches your eyes. ‘What’s happening?’ he mouths.

You quickly mute your call. “Some guy I helped at the bar last night got grazed by a knife, he didn’t want stitches, but decided to try to stitch himself up this morning.”

“What the fuck?” Joshua laughs.

“Okay, sent.” Seungcheol’s voice makes you hit the unmute button, and you open your messages to see the picture.

Joshua rolls closer, staring at your phone. While Seungcheol’s broad muscular back is a bit of a distraction, the stitch up job on the wound is sloppy, and draws most of your attention.

“Seungcheol,” you sigh. “I’m going to say this in the nicest possible way. You might be a tattoo artist, but your stitching skills are sub par at best.”

The line is quiet for a moment, then you hear a chuckle. “Someone’s in a grouchy mood.”

Joshua’s eyes widen, and he looks at you for your response. 

“You would be too if you spent all yesterday sleeping, woke up to be a designated driver for your friends, got home at three and had to be at work for five.”

“Oh… are you at work now?”

“Uh huh.”

“I shouldn’t bother you then,” Seungcheol says quickly.

“It’s no bother,” you assure him. “Look, I’m off in an hour. I’ll swing by to your shop to check out the stitching. Most stitches should be sewn within six to eight hours, we’re bordering on twelve- I just want to make sure there’s no infection.”

“You should just go home after work.”

“You should listen to your ER nurse and let her help you,” you retort, too tired to argue with him over this.

Seungcheol makes a groaning sound. “Fine.”

“See you in an hour.”

You hang up the phone and Joshua looks you up and down. “What’s his deal?”

“Honestly,” you sigh, “I couldn’t tell ya.”

Four:

You and Joshua often have the same shifts, and you carpool together to feel more green, so it’s Joshua who drives you to the tattoo parlour when you’re done work.

Seungcheol is waiting outside, arms crossed over his broad chest, and he eyes Joshua as the both of you get out of the car. 

“Hey,” Seungcheol says as you approach, “who’s this?”

“My coworker, Joshua,” you introduce them, and Joshua has the decency to hold out a hand.

You hold your breath, releasing it when Seungcheol gives him a customary curt handshake.

“He’s your ride?” Seungcheol asks.

“Uh huh, is that a problem?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable having him around while you check out my shoulder, even if he does work with you” Seungcheol explains. “Listen, I’ve got a motorcycle and an extra helmet in the shop, how about I take you home after this?”

Both men look at you, and for a moment, you feel flustered and put on the spot.

You’ve never been on a bike before- but fuck it, you’re too tired to work through Seungcheol’s weird alpha behavior and territorial mentality about you having a male coworker with you.

“That works,” you agree. “Thanks for the ride, Josh.”

“Text me when you’re home,” he warns, pulling you in for a hug.

You can practically feel Seungcheol staring daggers at the two of you when Joshua pulls away and heads back to his car.

Seungcheol’s demeanor is a bit icy as he leads you into the shop. You notice Vernon and Mingyu. Mingyu even says a loud “Hi, y/n!” and you nod politely as Seungcheol takes you into the back office, closing the door.

“So, is that dude your boyfriend?” he asks, heading to the first aid kit already open on his desk.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone right now. My last ex, uh… he did a number on me.” 

“Yeah?” Seungcheol takes off his shirt while you grab medical gloves to pull on. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m not sure what there is to say,” you admit with a sad laugh.

“Then you don’t have to say anything,” he decides.

“How about you?” you ask, softly prompting him to turn away from you on his spinny chair so you can assess the wound, gently removing the gauze. 

“What about me?” he counters.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope.” He’s quiet for a moment. “My ex was a bit of a shit show too.”

“Well I guess we’re kindred in that at least,” you smile, leaning close to get a better look at his shoulder. 

Seungcheol shivers slightly, and you think your breath on his throat must have set him off a little, but he stays silent. You notice his hands balling into fists on his thighs.

“I think your stitching can stay, but I’m going to clean your wound again and rebandage it.”

“Sounds good,” Seungcheol responds gruffly.

“While I’m doing this, do you mind if I ask about your tattoo? This big Elk?” You gently graze your surgical gloved pinky finger down his spine, and Seungcheol shivers again.

“Jesus, don’t do that,” he snaps.

“Sorry. It’s a pretty tattoo, I couldn’t help myself.” Your skin is heating with embarrassment, and you notice Seungcheol’s ears turning red too.

“I uh,” he swallows thickly. “My grandma was a tarot reader. She was always doing these readings, very connected to the Earth and shit. She used to tell me I had an Elk soul, like her. Something about spiritual guidance, protection, kindred souls or some shit. I’m not super into that stuff, but when she died, I kept having these stupid Elk dreams. Sort of felt like she was trying to communicate with me- if you believe in that sort of thing. Anyways, I figured if I got the tattoo, I’d feel closer to her, like she has my back.”

This is not the tattoo explanation you’d ever considered would come from a man like Seungcheol, and it takes you a few moments to register it and decide on a response.

“It sounds like you were very close with your grandma, I’m sorry that she passed.”

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol shrugs it off. “Shit happens.”

And just like that, he’s closing up again.

You wonder if you should tell him about your tarot connections, but you don’t want to sound like some crazy chick if you mention your spirit guides pointing you toward an Elk. Instead, you bite your tongue as you finish up his wound. 

“All done,” you announce.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything as he stands up and puts on his shirt. “What’s your address?” he asks, pulling out his phone.

You show him on the maps where you live. “Are you sure you want to give me a ride? Don’t you have… clients?”

“I can get you home and be back in time for my next appointment,” he assures you. “Think of this as another way of saying thank you for fixing me up.”

So far, he’s shown two love languages. He’s bought you a drink, and now he’s doing an act of service. He’d seemed hesitant on touch today, unlike last night when he’d been drinking, and you wonder what his history in relationships is like.

It sounds like you’ve both had shitty past experiences.

You just want to figure him out.

“Have you been on a bike before?” Seungcheol asks, grabbing a small black fullface helmet off a shelf of motorcycle memorabilia. 

“No.”

“Are you scared?”

“More tired than anything else,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, my Harley has a sissy bar, so you’ll be okay.”

You don’t even know what a sissy bar is, but you follow Seungcheol out to his bike anyways. 

“Here, we can put your stuff in my saddlebag,” he explains, opening a large additional compartment near the back tire of his bike. “I don’t always ride with these, but for whatever reason, I thought it would be a good idea to have them on today.”

He helps you put your work bag in his bike, and then, he helps you with your helmet, his fingers delicately grazing your throat as he tightens the strap there.

“If anything is wrong, just tap my thigh,” he tells you, swinging a leg over his bike and starting the engine.

Even with layers of protection over your ears from the helmet, his Harley is loud. It purrs, like a lion, and you stand in a daze for a moment before he makes a motion for you to hop on. 

You’re careful of his injured shoulder as you slowly get on the bike, adjusting yourself on the seat. 

Seungcheol reaches for your hand, settling it on his hip. He opens his visor. “Ready?”

You nod.

He nods back, and the bike roars to life. He pulls out of the parking spot, and you hold on tighter, thankful for the additional padding of a safety bar behind your back- is this the sissy bar he was talking about? 

You can’t dwell on motorcycle terms as Seungcheol gets onto the street, the bike moving even faster. The feeling of summer air is hot but pleasant on your skin as you ride between cars. You get the sneaking suspicion that Seungcheol is holding back on his driving-

You could imagine him weaving between vehicles and being a general menace on his bike, but with you on the back, he’s trying his best to be a gentleman.

You’re shocked at the trust you already have in this man. A man who a little over twelve hours ago, was a stranger.

You’ve never considered yourself an adrenaline junkie, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, everything else slips away.

You’re at your home before you know it, and you almost feel sad when Seungcheol pulls up to the curb. He motions for you to get off, and he joins you on the sidewalk a moment later, quickly helping you with your helmet.

“How was it?” he asks.

“That was super fun,” you tell him, beaming.

Seungcheol grins when he sees the expression on your face. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Listen, keep the helmet for now,” Seungcheol says. “I have your number and I know where you live, so I’ll come back for it.”

You feel your expression drop, and Seungcheol cocks his head to the side, concern written on his face.

“You good?”

“I just-” you swallow thickly. “Sorry, my uh- my ex used to say that to me. That he knew where I lived when I broke up with him. It felt like a threat, and it’s one of the reasons I had to move a couple of months ago.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment. “Fuck that guy.”

You nod. “Fuck that guy.”

Five:

You’ve had Seungcheol stuck in your head. After he’d dropped you off, it had been hard to sleep, your mind preoccupied with his answer about his tattoo. When you’d finally woken up hours later, you hadn’t been able to help yourself, you’d pulled out your tarot deck.

“Spirit,” you’d breathed. “I think I may have met him. The Elk. And even though you’ve given me the sign with his tattoo, I feel like I need more confirmation. I’m going to shuffle, and if this is meant for me, can you please give me a love card?”

There are numerous cards within the deck that talk about relationships, partnerships and new beginnings, and you’re hoping that one pops out.

You begin to shuffle, closing your eyes and taking it easy.

It’s about a minute before a card pops out. It’s upside down on your coffee table. 

You take a deep breath, slowly reaching out to flip the card.

The Two of Cups stares up at you, and you don’t even have to open your tarot guide book to know what that means. It’s a card of unity, of partnership. Other than the Lovers, it’s one of the most clear relationship cards you can get. 

You stare at it for a long while. The Elk may have been a coincidence. The fact that his own late grandmother had been a tarot reader may have been a coincidence. But pulling the Two of Cups, out of any other card, when seaking confirmation- this feels like fate. 

Part of you wants to be extra sure and ask for the lovers card, but you also think this might be a good time to trust your spirit team. They’ve guided you twice now, and maybe you have to look inward.

Why are you so cautious that Seungcheol might be the one?

Are you ready for a new relationship?

You’d thought you were ready- and here you are, meeting a man who fits your type-

Maybe it’s the fact that he is your type that you’re worried. What if he turns out to be a dickhead like the last ones? You’re still holding onto a lot of fear. You want to protect yourself, which you validate as a legitimate concern.

But… are you going to spend the rest of your life frightened?

Or are you going to try to let go of those fears and learn to trust again, even if it ends up biting you in the ass?

The possible risk is heartbreak, but the possible reward is endless happiness.

Fate can only do so much, this is the part where your own actions will dictate the future.

Six:

“So, how’s that dude with the tattoos doing?” Joshua asks, taking a seat next to you in the nursing station when things have finally calmed down.

“Cheol? I uh… haven’t talked to him since he dropped me off at my place two days ago.”

“Is that good or bad?” 

You shrug. “I’m not sure. We’re both busy people. I work here, and he owns a tattoo shop.”

“I guess that’s true,” Joshua nods. “Maybe you should call him and see how he’s doing?”

You quirk a brow at your friend. “What’s your angle here?”

Now it’s Joshua’s turn to shrug his shoulders. “No angle. I think, as your friend, sometimes it’s important to give you a little push. After all, your tarot said he’s your soulmate.”

Joshua’s one of your only coworkers who you’ve felt comfortable opening up to. He knows about all your spiritual inklings, and you’d filled him in on your whole Elk, Leo, Two of Cups fiasco yesterday. 

“Fine, I’ll give him a quick call,” you sigh. “Strictly as a nurse who wants to see how the wound is doing.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Joshua grins.

You roll your eyes at him, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Seungcheol answers on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Hi, how are you doing?” you ask, putting him on speaker phone. Joshua might be encouraging you to do this as a friend, but you know better than anyone that he also loves some good tea.

“Doing okay.”

“And your shoulder?”

“Good as far as I know… why? You worried about me?” You can hear the grin in his voice, the fact that he’s loving the concern you have for him. “I’ve had worse, you know.”

“I’d just hate for it to get infected,” you sigh.

“Look, if you want to do your due diligence as a nurse and everything, how about you get drinks with me and assess it yourself?” he suggests.

Joshua grabs your thigh, eyes widening, waiting on what you’ll say next.

“We could do that,” you respond.

“Sounds good, when are you free?”

“I’m off tomorrow.”

“How do you feel about eight o’clock?” 

“That works,” you nod.

“I’ll pick you up at eight then, and bring your helmet.”

You find yourself smiling. “Will do.”

“It’s a date. See you then.”

“Bye, Cheol.”

Your heart is racing as you hang up the phone, and Joshua immediately repeats Seungcheol’s words, “It’s a date.” 

“It’s a date,” you respond, jittery at the idea.

“Some guys are assholes and say ‘let’s hang out,’ but this one says ‘it’s a date.’”

“That’s a good sign,” you insist.

“A very good sign,” Joshua agrees. “If this dude ends up being the one, I might just have to get into tarot.”

Seven:

You’re surprised to find yourself playing nighttime mini golf with Seungcheol on your date. “What happened to drinks?” you ask as he pays for your tickets and grabs your clubs from the attendant.

He shrugs. “Figured you’re a nurse so you might not wanna get on my motorcycle after I had a few drinks, also the fact that you were designated driver last time I saw you at a bar- I thought this might be more your style. But, I’ll warn you, I’m not going to go easy on ya.”

You laugh, pleasantly surprised at how astute this man can be. “I think this will be fun.”

“Me too.”

Seungcheol’s wearing black jeans and a charcoal v-neck that shows off his strong shoulders. He’s the epitome of your type: a bad boy with tattoos. Yet, when you begin to play, he’s shockingly patient.

“Let me show you how to hold the club,” he suggests on the second hole, waiting for you to nod before he steps behind you and wraps his body around your own. “Feet positioning is key.” He also gently adjusts your hands, and your heart leaps in your chest when he breathes against your throat. “It might take some time to get used to,” Seungcheol warns, “so don’t beat yourself up if it doesn’t come naturally.”

You hit the golf ball, and it goes a lot closer to the hole than your first shot had.

“Did it take a while for you to get into mini golf?” you ask.

“Nah, I was always a natural,” he teases, flashing you a wink before he takes his own shot.

You admire the way his shoulders look with his back to you. “So what got you into being a tattoo artist? Into having your own place?” 

“Well, my grandma passed, and she left me a pretty big inheritance. She always thought I could succeed as a tattoo artist, but before that I was stuck doing blue collar type shit. I think, the money was her final way of telling me to follow my dreams. I’m kind of obsessed with ink, if you haven’t noticed.” He holds out his arms, which are littered with patchwork. “How about you? How does someone get into being an emergency room nurse?”

“I just like helping people,” you explain. “When I was a kid, I broke my arm falling off the monkey bars. I’d always been scared of hospitals, but the nurse who helped me in emergency was an angel. She made it less scary, and when it was over, I realized I wanted to be just like her. When people come into the emergency room, it’s never fun. It’s frightening, and cold- and I want to be there for people who are going through that, to be a warm, friendly face.”

“My grandma had a light worker's soul too,” Seungcheol nods. “That’s what she always called it anyways. She wasn’t ever officially trained, but in her later years she got into herbal medicine. Anytime I was sick it was lemon and garlic chicken noodle soup with bone broths and the works- always made me feel a lot better.”

“She sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

“She was,” Seungcheol agrees. “I don’t know you that well yet, but I think she would have liked you.”

You grin. “Is that an important trait you look for when taking girls to mini golf?” 

Seungcheol lets out a laugh. “It should be. My last ex wouldn’t have fit the bill, and at the time, I thought that was okay, but it didn’t end well.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll talk about mine if you talk about yours,” he suggests. “You said your last boyfriend was a creep when you broke up, threatened to come to your place and shit, he sounds like a piece of work.”

“He was,” you sigh. “I’ve got this thing for big tattooed men, bad boy types. It always leads to me getting my heart broken. He would tell me I was the one and everything, but I found out he was cheating on me with some waitress at the bar he used to go to all the time.”

“So what I’m hearing is… I’m your type.” Seungcheol flashes you a wink and you roll your eyes at him. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m sorry to hear that. Cheaters are the fucking worst.”

“Sounds like you’ve experienced something like that too.” 

“Looks like both of our ex’s were cheating fucks,” Seungcheol says. “I know it’s a red flag to talk shit about your ex or whatever, but some ex’s deserved to be talked bad about.”

You nod. “A hundred percent.”

“Did you think you were going to be with your last one forever?” Seungcheol asks after a moment.

“I thought so.”

“Me too with mine, I was just about ready to get her a ring.” He frowns, looking down at his golf ball. With a sigh, he easily knocks it into the hole. “Well, this is just the way life happens I guess.”

It’s clear you both have very similar wounds. You’re shocked at how easy it is to talk about this with Seungcheol. Some people say not to talk about ex’s on dates with new people, but this almost feels therapeutic. You understand Seungcheol better, and you’re sure he understands you too.

It’s promising to know he thinks about the future, that he’s ready to settle down, not all men are.

Maybe you’re both in the same boat with all of this, and that’s a hopeful thought.

Eight: 

Seungcheol can’t seem to get you out of his head. 

He’d never thought of himself as a particularly superstitious man. His grandma had been spiritual, and he’d always loved that aspect of her. He’d enjoyed doing tarot readings and making all sorts of elixirs with her in the garden. She’d told him he’d be a successful tattoo artist, she’d seen it in the stars, and while she’d been a big part of making that premonition come true, he wonders what else she might be right about.

Seungcheol’s grandma had always told him he’d end up with a healer like her. A doctor, a psychiatrist, a nurse- she wasn’t very specific, but she’d said his soul would call in a light worker when the time was right.

He feels drawn to you, his little emergency room nurse, designated driver, light worker. 

It’s been such a short amount of time, but there’s something unexplainable about the way he feels.

“You look distracted,” Mingyu muses, coming to join Seungcheol outside the tattoo parlour where he’s puffing on his vape.

“Just thinking.”

“About your birthday party tonight, or that girl you brought through the other day?” Mingyu presses, grinning as he bumps his shoulder against Seungcheol’s. 

Seungcheol can’t help but sigh at his friend’s prying ways. 

“Look you don’t have to tell me anything, but summer is almost over and you need a backpack. My angel has been surrounded by testosterone motorcycle rides for months, and we’d all love another girl to be part of the group. You should invite her out tonight.”

Of course Mingyu’s coming at this from an angle of having a girlfriend. He and Wonwoo are obsessed with their ‘little angel,’ and Mingyu’s always talking about the joys of being in a relationship. It can get somewhat tedious for Seungcheol.

“Don’t you have a client soon?” Seungcheol sighs.

“Point taken, I’ll leave you be,” Mingyu says, patting him on the shoulder. 

As soon as his friend is inside, Seungcheol pulls out his phone. He thinks about what he’s going to say to you, before typing out an easy, “Up to anything tonight?”

He’s shocked by how quick your response is. “It’s Sunmi’s birthday this week so we’re celebrating tonight since it’s Saturday.”

Seungcheol’s mood drops, and a moment later, you’re calling him.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you respond. “How are you doing?”

“Not so bad.” He wants to tell you that it’s his birthday tonight, wants to try to convince you to come, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to guilt you, doesn’t want to mess up your plans. “What’s up?”

“I just… I know we’ve only gone on one actual date, and I only met you a week ago, but… I just want you to know, when I go out tonight, I’m not going to be hitting on anyone or anything.”

He’s taken aback for a moment. “I wasn’t really worried about that.”

“Okay! Good! I just- I know with your ex and everything- and I just, I figured I’d clarify, even though we’ve only been on one date, I’m a one guy at a time kind of girl.”

He respects that you’re so direct about this, and he appreciates your loyalty. You really are a good person. 

“I’m a one girl at a time kind of guy,” Seungcheol says finally. “Glad we’re on the same page about that.”

“Me too.” He can hear your smile, and it makes his heart swell. 

“Anyways, I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight.”

“I will, bye, Cheol.”

Nine:

You’re having a great night. The drinks have been flowing, and you’re having a fun time celebrating Sunmi’s birthday. Things are fuzzy in the best way- until you hear a familiar voice say your name.

You turn to find your ex standing close to you at the bar, and your heart sinks in your chest.

“It’s been a while,” your ex states.

You can’t even find the words to speak, suddenly getting drunk seems like a horrible idea.

You’ve just started to feel safe again, to feel stable- you’d thought being out with your friends, you could let loose, but now your ex is here and your heart is beginning to race.

“Have you been drinking?” your ex asks, coming to stand closer to you at the bar top, where you’d been sipping a gin and tonic. 

“I, uh-” your words catch in your throat, and you swallow thickly. “It’s Sunmin’s birthday.”

Your ex nods, and when you look toward your table, you see Sunmin gaping at you.

Turning away from Sunmi, your ex addresses you. “Is she still a huge bitch?”

“I-” you want to defend your friend, but you feel frozen. You can’t think- you’re completely overwhelmed, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, your heart like thunder in your chest.

“We need to talk,” your ex says next. “Come outside with me.”

He grabs your arm, and then a hand wraps around yours. You turn to see Sunmi standing there, glaring at your ex. “What do you think you’re doing?!” she asks.

“Y/N and I need to have a chat outside,” your ex sighs, being very dismissive.

“She doesn’t have to go anywhere with you,” Sunmi insists. “Honey, do you want to go with him?”

You quickly shake your head, moving closer to your friend for safety.

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” your ex rolls his eyes, tightening his grip on your arm to the point where it almost hurts.

“We’re going to the bathroom,” Sunmi insists, somehow successfully tugging you away from your ex. 

“Run away, but I’ll be right here to talk to her when you’re done.”

It feels like a blur as Sunmi races you to the woman’s washroom. “Y/N,” she helps you to the sink, looking at your face. “Are you okay?”

“I-”

Sunmi pulls you to her chest, hugging you deeply. “We’re going to sort this out,” she promises.

“How?” You feel like crying. All the emotions come flooding back, the fear, the helplessness-

“We’re going to call Seungcheol.”

“What?” You’re in shock. “We can’t do that!”

“We can, and we will. Men like your ex only respond to other men. We’re calling him. Give me your phone.”

Reluctantly, you hand Sunmi your cell, turning on the sink to splash your arms with cold water.

“Hi, Seungcheol?” There’s a pause. “No, this is Sunmi. I’m out with y/n, we’re at a bar on Elm and fifth street, her ex just showed up- okay, okay, yeah, we’re in the bathroom in the back.”

She hangs up and you look to her for an explanation.

Your friend lets out a sigh. “As soon as I said your ex was here, Seungcheol said to give him five minutes. I’m going to keep you here and he’ll come get us, okay?”

You nod. “I’m sorry to ruin your birthday.”

“Honey, you’re not ruining anything,” she assures you, pulling you in for another hug. 

You hold back tears while you wait with Sunmi, and in no time at all, there’s a knock on the bathroom door. Seungcheol pokes his head in, and you see his expression drop when he sees you.

“What happened?” he growls, coming to join you.

“Her ex was trying to drag her outside-” Sunmi tries to explain.

“He touched you?” Seungcheol asks, anger laced in his words.

You nod, pointing to your forearm. 

“Grabbed is more like it,” Sunmi breathes.

“Okay,” Seungcheol nods. “Okay, I’ll get you out of here. Just hold onto me and we’ll get out of here.”

You nod again, allowing Seungcheol to gently take your hand. He guides you out of the bathroom, and you huddle close to his side as he walks you through the bar- you almost think things will go smoothly when your ex steps in front of you.

“Who’s this, you’re new boyfriend?” he asks, venom dripping from his words.

Seungcheol stops in his tracks. “So you must be the dip shit ex.”

“Say that again, asshole,” your ex growls, eyes narrowing.

“You must be-” Seungcheol broadens his shoulders, “the dip shit ex.”

Your ex releases a laugh, and then he’s taking a swing. It feels slow and fast at the same time, Sunmi tears you away from Seungcheol, who dodges the punch easily, only to land a blow to your ex’s stomach-

“Y/N! Sunmi!” Mingyu’s voice appears out of nowhere, and suddenly two strong arms are wrapping around you and your friend. “Outside!”

Mingyu keeps you close as he gets you and Sunmi out of the bar while a commotion ensues in your wake. Four motorcycles are pulled up on the curb. You recognize Vernon, and there’s another man you’ve never seen before.

“Cheol’s starting shit,” Mingyu tells his friends quickly.

“We heard your ex was here?” Vernon offers, giving you a sympathetic look.

“He threw a swing at Cheol when I got inside,” Mingyu tries to explain. “Y/N, we’re going to get you out of here, Wonwoo pass me the spare helmet from the saddlebag.”

“What about Seungcheol?” you ask, watching the men fuss.

“He can take care of himself,” Mingyu assures you, helping you put on the helmet.

“Cheol will meet us at our place,” the new man, Wonwoo, says. “When he gets hot like this, he doesn’t drive very safely.”

“Trust us,” Mingyu pleads. “We just gotta get you out of here, your ex made the first swing, and nothing good can come from this now.”

You turn to Sunmi and she squeezes your hand. “It’s okay, get out of here. I’ll text you what happens.”

You can’t even think as Mingyu gets onto his bike and you awkwardly take the seat behind him. You can’t comprehend how things happened the way they did- how fast the altercation had been before your ex had taken a go at Seungcheol.

As you leave the bar, heart thundering in your chest, it’s the most you can do to try to slow your breathing, your body still carrying the trauma that you’d endured with your ex, the wound you’d thought was healed now torn open.

Ten:

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask as Mingyu covers you with a large fluffy blanket on his couch. “I mean- you just said your girlfriend is four months pregnant and sleeping in the other room-”

“It’s fine,” Mingyu assures you.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” You’d found your ability to speak again once you felt safe and in Mingyu’s apartment, and now, you can’t help the anxiety bubbling inside of you. You feel like a burden- and it’s an all too familiar feeling from your time with your ex.

“You didn’t ruin it, we were almost done anyways,” Wonwoo notes. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Y/N, deep breaths,” Mingyu tells you, sitting on the couch next to you, offering your calf a reassuring squeeze.

“Is Cheol going to be okay?” you ask.

“He’s going to be fine, that man has never lost a fight,” Mingyu explains, smiling softly.

In the distance, you hear an engine revving, and Wonwoo sighs. “There he is.”

Not even five minutes later, Seungcheol is practically bursting through the door. His eyes find you on the couch, and you’re quick to stand, allowing him to envelop you in a hug. His heart is racing in his chest, he’s clearly panicked, and when he pulls away, he looks down at you with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” he questions, cupping your face as if checking you for injury.

“I’m okay, are you okay?” you retort.

“Just a few bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

You find yourself laughing, and as you laugh, your eyes well up with tears. Now that he’s here, you finally feel like you can take a deep breath, and he’s quick to tug you back to his chest as you cry.

“I’m going to give you a moment, then I’m going to take you home,” he tells you, hand smoothing up and down your back.

You stay in his arms until you feel a bit better, and when you pull away, Mingyu is offering you a tissue. You clean yourself up, say your goodbyes, then Seungcheol walks you out with the spare helmet in hand.

He doesn’t say anything on the way down, but at the bike, he hands you his fullface. “Want you protected,” he tells you, grabbing the bucket helmet from your grasp.

You nod, putting on the helmet and allowing him to help you fasten it up. 

You’re quiet as you both get onto the bike, and Seungcheol adjusts your hand to his hip, squeezing gently. 

The bike roars to life and you take off.

It’s a different feeling to be on a motorcycle while still a little drunk, and you find yourself throwing your head back to look up at the night sky. 

You’ve seen the stars before, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, it feels like you're experiencing them for the first time. 

You lose track of time doing this, and the ride is done sooner than you’d like when he pulls up to your building. “Come on, baby,” he says softly, helping you take off your helmet. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

He holds your hand, helping you with your keys to get into the apartment complex. The elevator ride is quiet, but his hand is a reassuring constant, warm and large wrapped around your own.

He’s never been to your place, and you feel a little self conscious as you open up your door. It’s a modest apartment, one bedroom- there’s really nothing to be insecure about, but you think maybe your anxiety from the bar incident is just making you a little crazy.

“How about you sit down, and I’ll get you some water?” he suggests, helping you to the couch.

You kick off your high heels, curling up on the cushions while Seungcheol putters around your kitchen. He already looks like he belongs here, and for a brief moment, you can forget about your ex.

Seungcheol rejoins you on the couch, handing you the cup. “Here.” 

“Thank you.”

You sip on your water, trying to breathe properly again.

Seungcheol gives you the space to unwind. He doesn’t pester you with questions about the altercation with your ex at the bar, and you’re grateful for it.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” he asks finally.

You shake your head, your eyes dropping to his hands. “You’re hurt though.”

“Just bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

“There’s blood,” you insist. “I’ll-”

“Tell me where your first aid kit is and I’ll grab it.” 

You direct him to the cupboard in your bathroom, and he returns with it, setting the case onto your coffee table. 

“How’s your shoulder?” you ask as you take out the tools you’ll need.

“Almost better, I heal fast,” he says softly.

It feels good to focus on his wounds rather than your own, and you gently clean the scrapes on his hand. His right fist is pretty badly bruised, and you do your best to treat it. Then you begin to slowly wrap his knuckles, taking your time. Two wraps around his wrist, diagonal across the top to his pinky, under the hand, to the pointer, diagonal- 

It’s a nice repetition of motions, and when you’re all done, you lift his hand to your lips, gently pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “All better.”

You look up at Seungcheol, and he stares back.

Then, he slowly moves in, carefully watching your expression. He stops just an inch from your lips, and you can feel his breath on your face. He’s waiting for you to make the final move, for you to be the one with control.

With one last look at your beautiful, dark protector, you close the distance.

It’s a soft kiss, not the kind of first kiss you’ve ever had before. Seungcheol doesn’t immediately try to dominate you like men in the past have, he lets you set the pace. You lean in closer, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself as you deepen the kiss. 

Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you, and it’s a somewhat awkward position on the couch like this, so he simply pulls you onto his lap. 

You lose yourself in the kiss, allowing all your anxiety to dissipate while you enjoy the safety Seungcheol provides. 

After a while, Seungcheol pulls away, and you’re both breathing heavily. 

“How… how do your knuckles feel?” you ask.

He laughs, looking down at his hands. “I might black out my fingers when this is all healed,” he admits. “I get into too many barfights. My grandma used to say it was the Leo in me.”

“The Leo in you?” you repeat, heard thumping wildly in your chest.

“Yeah, I uh…” he lets out a soft chuckle, “I didn’t wanna pressure you to come out or anything after I heard you were at a friend’s birthday party, but it’s sort of my birthday today.”

You’re frozen for a moment. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a Leo,” you say again.

“Uh huh. You’re not about to tell me some weird zodiac rule about our signs not being compatible, are you?”

“No, it’s not that.” You take a deep breath. Just a short time ago, you’d decided not to tell him about the Elk tattoo meaning, and now here you are, about to tell him everything. 

You’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from the bar situation, or the slight tipsyness, but you think fuck it, if he could tell you about his tarot loving grandmother, you can tell him about this.

“A few months ago, I did a reading,” you begin to explain.

“A tarot reading,” he clarifies.

“Yeah. And I asked my guides to show me a spirit animal card that would be a tattoo on the person I’m supposed to be with. The card came up as an Elk- and before you tell me it’s a very common tattoo, I know it is, which is why I asked for further clarification with them telling me the zodiac of this person too-”

“And they said Leo,” he breathes.

You nod. “Then, when I met you, the Elk lined up, but I still wasn’t sure, so I did another reading on us, and the Two of Cups came out, it’s a love card. So with those two cards, and now the fact that you’re a Leo-”

“Is this your way of telling me you think I’m your soulmate?” Seungcheol grins.

“God, I should have guessed you’re a fucking Leo,” you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be rude,” he tuts, gently pinching your hip. “If it’s any consolation, my grandmother always told me I’d end up with someone in the medical field, and you’re an ER nurse.”

“She really said that?” you ask.

“Uh huh.” Seungcheol’s gaze dips to your lips then back up again. “I wonder if she saw this future.”

Your heart melts. After your last relationship, where the lovebombing came on fast, you’d promised yourself not to get burned by that sort of thing again- but here you are, falling for Seungcheol way quicker than you ever have with anyone else in the past.

Even so, something about this feels so right.

You let out a breath. “One time with the Elk may have been coincidence. Two times with the Two of Cups card was a little odd. But three times with your Leo Zodiac-”

“I guess the question is, do you believe in fate?” Seungcheol moves closer.

“I think you know that I do,” you laugh.

Seungcheol’s hands squeeze your hips, and he doesn’t say anything else as he brings his mouth to yours.

You kiss him eagerly, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your chests together. His tongue glides against your own and it feels like magic- there’s a bulge growing in his pants, and you can’t help but begin to grind down against him.

Seungcheol releases a small groan and it’s music to your ears, prompting you to apply more pressure to his cock when you wriggle against him.

With a sigh, Seungcheol pulls away. “Baby,” he says softly, “you’ve been drinking and I don’t want to take advantage tonight-”

“I swear that whole situation with my ex sobered me up,” you admit. “Besides, maybe I want to give you a birthday present.” 

“A birthday present?” he repeats with a chuckle.

You nod. “Cheol, I haven’t even kissed anyone in months- I’m already practically drenched from making out, you won’t make me wait even longer, will you?”

He studies your face, and you can see the moment he folds. “We can do this, but at any point if I think you look drunk, we have to stop. I don’t want you to regret this being our first time.”

“I could never regret this,” you promise, leaning in to press your lips to his throat.

Seungcheol throws his head back, his fingers digging into your hips again. The low moan he releases tells you that he has a sensitive neck, and you enjoy simply teasing him for a minute while you mentally prep yourself for what’s to come next.

You do want to move on, and this is one of those steps.

You’re not afraid of it. You had been frightened about intimacy with someone new, but Seungcheol makes you feel more safe than you’ve ever felt in your life.

You want this. 

You shift a little on Seungcheol’s lap, reaching down to cup his cock with your palm. 

Seungcheol swallows thickly, his hands smoothing up and down your hips. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You don’t want me to take care of you?”

“It’s your birthday,” you point out. “And you took care of me at the bar, I think it’s my turn to show some appreciation.”

He doesn’t argue with you, and you can feel the tension leaving his shoulders. He lets out a deep breath. “I know it’s early,” he says, “but… if we do this, I don’t want any confusion. I want you to know that you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“Honestly? I’ve been yours since practically the moment I saw you take your shirt off so I could clean your shoulder wound.”

Seungcheol releases a chuckle. “Really?”

“Uh huh, you make me fucking feral.”

He lets out a groan of appreciation. “It’s been hard to control myself too. That day at the studio, when you touched my back tattoo- I was so close to breaking. Wanted to throw you onto my desk and make you feel good.”

You imagine what that would have been like, and it makes you moan. “Why didn’t you?”

“I could tell you had a past, and I didn’t want to scare you off,” he admits. “I’ve been… trying to be a good boy.”

Your bad boy trying to be good to make you comfortable. You really hit the jackpot with Seungcheol.

“Cheol, I’ve told you I have a thing for bad boys,” you tease.

“So maybe I should take control right now,” he suggests with a grin.

“Let me suck you off, and then you can take control,” you tell him, pulling away. “I’m going to get on my knees now.”

Seungcheol watches you slip onto the floor infront of him, and your hands find his belt. You try to focus on your task of getting his pants off, but you enjoy sneaking glances at him, seeing his pretty face as he tries to keep composure.

He lifts his hips to help you tug his jeans down, and his cock slaps up against his lower abdomen, hard and already leaking.

He’s a decent size, somewhere between six and seven inches, and his cock is as girthy as the rest of him. You lick your lips, grabbing the base so you can adjust him toward your mouth as you lean in.

“No teasing,” Seungcheol warns, voice softening when he says, “please.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Liar,” he laughs, reaching out to stroke your head.

You slip the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue. 

“And that’s the teasing I was talking about,” Seungcheol muses. “Feels good though.”

You sink further down onto him, beginning to suck as you move up and down.

“Fuck, that feels even better,” he groans.

When you were with your ex, blow jobs were an expectation, and because of that, you never really enjoyed them. There’s something powerful about doing this of your own volition, about making the conscious choice to pleasure Seungcheol.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the motion of providing this for him. Hallowing your cheeks, you suck hard when you’re near the tip, and Seungcheol groans loudly, shifting further down on the couch so you’re not bent over him in such an awkward position.

“You’re good at that, baby,” Seungcheol says. “But there’s only one birthday present I’d enjoy more than this.”

You let out a “hmm?” sound, an inquiry.

“When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

Your pussy throbs at his words, and you increase your speed on his cock, letting out a moan of appreciation. 

“Yeah? You like that?” he asks. “Say the word, baby, and I’ll make it happen.”

You pull off of him, your hand smoothing up from base to tip to pump him while you address your beautiful dark protector. “I just want to make you feel good a little while longer.”

His expression softens. “Making me feel really good.”

You grin, returning to your task. 

Seungcheol’s hand is gentle in your hair. He caresses you while you suck him off, never applying pressure or trying to get you to deep throat him. It’s an ever constant, soft touch, and you’re shocked at how much of a gentleman this heavily tattooed, bar fighting, Leo can be. 

“Baby?” His voice draws you from your thoughts. “I know I said you could say the word and be done, but- this feels too good, and I don’t wanna bust the moment I begin to fuck you.”

You pull off of his cock with a pop, smiling up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He lets out a shaky breath and grins. “Where’s your bedroom, gorgeous?”

“Right there.” You point at the door adjacent to the living room.

“Come on, baby, it’s my turn to take care of you.” He helps you to your feet, pulling his pants back up, and you’re shocked when he throws you over his uninjured shoulder, carrying you to your bedroom while you erupt in a fit of butterfly fueled giggles.

Seungcheol lays you softly onto your bed, staring down at you. He takes in your silky shirt and your dress pants, you like to be more classy when you go out, to keep up with your reputation as a nurse.

The two of you are very different people. He’s black ripped jeans, plain tshirts and tattoos. And you’re classy outfits, scrubs, and a healer’s touch. Somehow, even with these differences, the two of you work. Like Yin and Yang, complementary forces, light and dark.

“Can I take these off for you?” he asks, tugging at your pant leg.

You nod, watching the way he begins to undo your button and zipper. He’s slow with his motions, precise. It’s not a rush to get you naked, it’s an enjoyed exploration, and you love the way his eyes glow when you lift your hips to allow him to pull the fabric off your lower half.

“You’re so pretty,” Seungcheol muses.

“Yeah?”

“That day you were in my shop with your friend, doing a consult with Vernon- I was trying to act like I was watching my newest apprentice work, but… I kept looking at you. And then, outside the bar, when you showed up again-” Seungcheol shakes his head, his hand smoothing along your leg gently. “Baby, you’re going to turn me into a believer.”

“Invisible string theory, perhaps,” you grin.

Seungcheol chuckles. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

He takes off his own shirt, and you watch the way his muscles move under his skin. He’s littered in tattoos, patchwork on his arms and chest. There must be a hundred small to medium sized tattoos, and you want to know the story behind each and every one.

But there’s a time and a place for that, and right now, you’re eager for something else.

Seungcheol gets on top of you, and you immediately thread your fingers through his soft dark hair, pulling his lips to your own.

Your free hand explores his muscular shoulders, careful of the bandage still on his bar wound, and you’re practically tingling with how attracted you are to this man.

He kisses you deeply, cupping your face while his other hand braces him to the bed over top of you.

Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer, and he grinds against your panty clad core.

The pressure on your clit has you moaning, and Seungcheol responds by kissing down your throat. He licks at your collarbone, and then his hand moves from your cheek to your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asks.

“Uh huh, there’s a tie at the back.”

Seungcheol pulls off of you, and in one motion, he flips you onto your stomach. His warm hand smooths over your shoulder, toying with the tie there.

You hold your breath in anticipation as he begins to undo the corset style back of your slinky top. He leans over you, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck that makes your body erupt in goosebumps. 

You enjoy the way he takes his time with your shirt, and he slowly helps you slip it off. You’re laying flat on his bed, your tits pressed to the comforter, while Seungcheol explores your back with his hands. He traces the curvature of your sides, pressing kisses along your spine. Soft curls tickle your skin, and you’re grinning like the Cheshire Cat at how good this feels.

Seungcheol flips you over again, and his gaze dips to your exposed breasts. “You’re so pretty,” he muses, gently groping your chest, his thumb grazing over your nipple. You watch him swallow thickly, and then he’s leaning over, taking the sensitive bud in his mouth while you tangle your fingers in his curls again.

With his mouth on your breast, his free hand slips down your body, and he tugs your panties down just enough for him to access your core.

Two digits rub between your pussy lips and you feel him smile against your nipple. “You weren’t lying about being wet, baby.”

“Would never lie to you,” you breathe out shakily.

“No?” He circles your clit and you moan loudly. 

“Never,” you repeat, pushing your hips up toward his hand, needing more friction.

Seungcheol rewards you by slipping both of his digits into your wet core, pressing his palm to your clit as he begins to finger fuck you. He sucks on your breast while he does this, and you’re lost in the sensations he provides.

“Fuck, Cheol-” you whimper when his teeth graze your nipple, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers.

“Wanna make you cum,” Seungcheol says, pulling away from your breast to look down at you.

“Then make me cum,” you respond, nodding at him.

Seungcheol presses one last kiss to your lips and then he shifts down the bed, pulling his fingers from your core. He gets onto his knees at the foot of the mattress, dragging you toward himself and pulling your panties off.

He spreads your thighs. “So pretty,” he muses. “Everything about you is so fucking pretty.”

Your skin heats, it can be hard to take a compliment, but something tells you that Seungcheol will get you used to this kind of praise.

He leans forward, eyes meeting yours as he presses a kiss to your clit. You jolt at the small contact, releasing a shaky breath.

No one has eaten you out in months, and your core is already throbbing with anticipation. 

“Gonna take care of you,” Seungcheol promises, and you know that this promise extends far past the sexual setting you’re in right now.

He moves forward again, capturing your clit in his mouth while his digits easily slip into your pussy again.

You throw your head back, enjoying the sensation of him worshiping your cunt. He’s gentle with his motions at first, kitten licking your sensitive bud. You know he’s getting used to your sounds, figuring out what pressure works, what you enjoy, whether thats sucking, or more gentle stimulus.

“Feels good,” you tell him. “Like the way you crook your fingers.”

He responds by applying more pressure to the ‘come hither’ motion he’s making, and you release a whine at how good it feels.

“Just like that,” you whimper.

He sucks your clit harder too, and you moan louder, hips bucking toward his face.

Seungcheol’s free hand finds your lower abdomen and he pins you to his bed, keeping you still while he works on your pussy.

You can feel your walls clenching around him, and Seungcheol releases a groan of pleasure. It adds to your own feeling of euphoria that clearly he’s enjoying this. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’s usually a giver, and the fact that he doesn’t see this as a chore has you able to enjoy it fully, unlike certain past experiences where men had to be begged into eating you out.

Sex with Seungcheol - even foreplay like this - feels so natural. You’re not as in your head as you usually are, with his nonverbal communications and moans, you can be certain he’s enjoying this as much as you are, and it gives you the confidence to give yourself over completely to the pleasure.

Sex should always be like this, you realize.

There’s no pressure, no worrisome thoughts, it’s just two souls connecting physically in a way that’s mutually beneficial. 

Having not been eaten out in a long time, it’s not surprising that you’re extremely sensitive, and Seungcheol works you all the way to the edge before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

“Cheol-” you whimper, threading your fingers in his hair, “I’m gonna-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, he sucks harshly on your clit, and your words become moans as your orgasm surges through you.

His hand on your abdomen keeps you steady as he works you through your high, sucking on your clit until your legs are shaking on his broad shoulders.

Seungcheol pulls away, and you open your eyes to watch him wipe the back of his mouth, licking his fingers clean. 

“Still want this?” he asks, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his jeans.

“More than anything,” you smile.

A moment later, Seungcheol is as naked as you are, and he gets between your thighs again, lips returning to your own. He doesn’t immediately slip his cock into you, instead, he grinds against your core, teasing your sensitive clit and driving you wild.

You kiss him eagerly, threading your fingers through his hair and groping his muscular shoulders, enjoying the feeling of him despite the need growing inside of you.

You’re reminded again that there’s no rush.

You can take pleasure in this without feeling like you need to be getting fucked to be worth something.

You’re a hundred percent sure that if you’d told Seungcheol you’re not ready for sex, he would have stopped, cuddled you, and not taken it personally. There’s this feeling that Seungcheol is going to be around for a long time- and as crazy as it is with how short of a time you’ve known him, you know that your connection runs deeper than your physical attraction.

Seungcheol shifts slightly, grabbing at his cock. You bite at your lip while you wait for him to line it up with your core, and you break your kiss, panting. Your eyes meet as he slips the head of his length into your wet hole, and you both groan at the feeling.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol moans, sinking in inch by inch. “You feel so fucking good.” 

“You feel better,” you retort, kissing his cheek and nuzzling his nose.

“Impossible,” he grins, burying his face in your throat as he begins to fuck you.

You claw at his shoulders, crying out with each thrust. He fills you so well- he has probably one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever taken, and the way he stretches you out is like heaven, like he was made to be in your pussy.

The sounds he’s making are unlike any other pleasured noises you’ve ever heard.

Nothing has ever felt this right.

Seungcheol’s uninjured hand finds your own, and he laces your fingers, squeezing you reassuringly as he fucks you harder, his speed increasing.

His lips are hot on your neck, and it feels delightful. You love just laying back and taking everything he’s giving you. He’s so big, like a warm, weighted blanket covering your form.

Your toes are already curling at how deep he’s hitting, and your thighs shake desperately around his hips.

“Cheol-”

“Yes, baby?” he asks.

“You just- fuck, this feels so good-”

“You deserve to feel good,” Seungcheol tells you. “You work so hard for others, I’m lucky I get to be the guy working for you.”

Your heart swells at his words. Past boyfriends’ haven't ever truly appreciated how hard it is to be an emergency room nurse. You spend your whole shift taking care of others, and that high pressure, intense mentality bleeds into your personal life. It's a sweet relief to be the one on the receiving end, to relax and know that you can fully give yourself up to the pleasure and desire you feel, without feeling obligated to return this favour with future sexual gratifications.

Seungcheol’s lips meet your own, and you get lost in him, moaning desperately as he works your pussy open.

His thrusts slow, and he stays completely still inside of you for a moment, then pulls away.

“Can you shift onto your side for me?” he asks. “One leg straight on the bed, the other thigh pulled closer to your chest.”

It’s a position you’ve never tried before, but you trust Seungcheol, and you’re quick to adjust. You lay half on your side, one leg stretched between his knees while you bring your other toward your breasts. 

Seungcheol’s warm hand finds your thigh, and he helps bend you, his free hand guiding his cock to your pussy again.

When he pushes in this time, it feels even deeper, and you let out a squeak at the stimulation.

“You like that?” he asks, hand moving from your thigh to your breast, where he gently pinches your nipple.

“So deep- I feel so full-” you whimper.

Seungcheol only grins, and he’s an absolute vision in this position. He’s practically on his knees, and his chest is all exposed and gorgeous. His tattoos are beautiful as he massages your breast with one hand, the other on your thigh, anchoring you while he fucks you.

You’re not sure if it’s the sideways angle or what, but he’s hitting a spot that has your toes curling tight, your pussy clenching.

“Fuck-” you moan.

“Shit, I should have asked this before-” Seungcheol says, voice shaky, “do I need to pull out or-”

“I’m on birth control,” you assure him. “You can cum inside.”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans, rutting into you even harder. 

“Kinda want you to fill me up,” you admit.

“You’re way too sexy, baby, holy shit-”

You can tell your words are doing a number on him, and it makes your core throb with pleasure.

“Can you rub your clit?” he asks. “Want you to cum with me. I hate cumming alone.”

“Yeah.” Your hand slips between your thighs awkwardly, and Seungcheol decreases his pace  to give you a chance to catch up to his pleasure.

His movements are slower now, more precise, his cock hitting that spot deep inside that has you crying out again.

“You look so good like this,” Seungcheol tells you. “My pretty little nurse.”

For some reason, his words just do something to you, and your core throbs even harder. “Cheol, I’m close-” you warn him,

“Tell me when you’re almost there and I’ll go fast again.”

You focus on the sight of him, on the tattoos and muscles, his strong features and the pretty dark curls. His small groans egg you on, and you’re at the edge in no time, giving him a nod. “Okay-”

He releases your breast, using both hands on your leg now to steady himself as he fucks you stupid, your whole body jolting with each motion. You let out a desperate whine, rubbing your clit even harder-

“Fuck, fuck-” Seungcheol groans. “Feels so fucking good- fuck, cum with me, baby, cum with me-”

You moan in response, your core clenching down desperately on his cock as your orgasm explodes through you. Your whole body shivers with endorphins, heart racing in your chest.

Seungcheol throws his head back, releasing an extremely sexy groan as he cums with you, fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts slowly and deeply, working you through your orgasms.

You rub your clit until you can’t take it anymore, tearing your hand away.

Seungcheol slumps forward, stilling completely, and you greedily grab at his shoulders. He collapses half on top of you, and you thread your fingers through his hair, panting hard.

His forehead rests against your own, and you both just try to catch your breath.

You’ve never felt connected to someone the way you feel connected to Seungcheol in this moment. It’s all consuming, and it makes you emotional as you come down from your high.

Seungcheol must notice your shaky breathing because he opens his eyes and looks at you. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m just-” you swallow thickly. “I don’t know-”

You can’t voice it, can’t voice the way you’re feeling. There are so many thoughts swirling around in your head, so many past traumas rearing their ugly faces and making you second guess yourself-

“I’m yours, and you’re mine,” Seungcheol breathes, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, he can clear all of your anxieties, as if he was able to read your mind and see your fears. 

You’ve always been drawn to bad boys, to men who you envision as some kind of dark protector- and now, you think you’ve finally found the right one. 

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! this fic is written in conjunction to my other story 'crossroads,' read more about Mingyu, Wonwoo, and their y/n here

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🔮 preview. Seungcheol’s thrusts get faster, and he rests his forehead against your spine while he rails you into the blow up mattress at a campsite where anyone could walk by. His baby fever is at an all time high, and he’s fucking you like a man who means every word he’s saying.

cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, sex in a campsite, exhibitionism, staying quiet during sex, pussy eating, fingering, large/muscled/tattooed Cheol, quickie, baby fever, dirty talk, breeding kink, praise, breast worship, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.6k I teaser wc. 180

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

 bonus

It’s been just under a year since you started dating Seungcheol, and through him, you’ve found a family. Many trivia nights, and bowling excursions have been spent with Seungcheol, his friends, Sunmi, her sister, and her sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan. Once you’d met everyone face to face, it had been much easier to track Sunmi’s convoluted explanation of her connection to the tattoo parlour, and it’s been a joy to become so close with so many wonderful people.

Sunmi’s sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, is cousins with Mingyu and Wonwoo’s girlfriend, who’d had a beautiful baby girl this past January, and now, it’s the baby’s first summer. You don’t mind the shift of hang outs to be more baby inclusive, and now, you find yourself at a campsite with the whole gang.

While everyone is quite enamored with the little baby girl, Haesoo, no one is more obsessed than your boyfriend Seungcheol. You always get to see him coddling her while out and about as a group, but in the past three days at this campsite, you’ve contracted a serious case of baby fever.

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[luveline]

hiya jadey! A hotchner!reader x spencer request for you <3 Maybe Spencer comes home a little tense/snappy from a case and reader misinterprets it as anger towards her so she starts clesning and catering to what she thinks Spencer needs so he isn’t angry at her anymore? (even thought he never was.)

She sort of regresses into what she did when her adoptive parents weren’t pleased with her :(

love you love you love you superstar!

i love u <3 | fem, 1k

cw past emotional abuse

The door to Spencer’s apartment closes with a distinct clunk. Certainly shut too hard. 

It sends a horrible feeling deep into the very pit of your stomach. Like you could cry, then and there. You frown at the odd feeling and stand to shake it off. 

Spencer’s home. 

“Hey,” you say, calling without seeing him, making your way into the living room from his kitchen to find him at the door. 

His bag looks heavier than usual on a slouched shoulder, his hair puffy. He must’ve showered before they flew back into Virginia and air-dried his short curls. He drops his bag on the floor, scrubbing his face, nose and eyes screwed up tightly as his glasses push up to his forehead.

“You okay?” you ask.

His face flickers. “Fine.” 

It’s not the greeting you’d wanted. Maybe you’re egotistical or something but you’d at least expected a hug. He’s the one who invited you over, surely he wants to see you?

The queasy feeling worsens. 

You give him a little kiss on the cheek to test the waters. “Missed you.” 

“Yeah, I missed you too.” 

You aren’t convinced. Spencer rubs his face again, trudging to the couch to lay down. 

You send yourself into a tailspin. Looking around the apartment, you can see why he’s unhappy. You left your cup on the coffee table, your handbag on the armrest, there’s so much to clean up and put away. 

His silence means you did something wrong. 

He asked you to be there. He left you the key. But maybe he didn’t really want you there after all. 

When you were younger, you’d get home from school, and a half hour later your father’s car would park in the driveway. You’d get this feeling, then, a tenseness, not necessarily fear but anticipation. Some days it wouldn’t matter, and most days he’d come through the door like a animal to be coaxed into softness. You’d convince him to be angry at something else. Enable his fury, agree with every word he said. 

Smiling, calmed, he’d walk into a spotless kitchen and find a pan soaking in the sink. I just wish you’d have some fucking consideration, he’d say. Or, Really? Or he’d sigh like he couldn’t believe it and slam a cabinet door. 

Nothing was right. You weren’t worth any patience.

“Dove?” 

You peek around the doorway again, your tidying having taken you to the kitchen to wash your cup. “Yeah?” you say. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just– just cleaning up.” 

“It’s fine. It’s clean, don’t worry about it.” He frowns at you. “Are you okay?” 

“‘Course.” 

His frown deepens. Spencer only ever frowns when he’s confused. When he’s upset he tends to press his lips together in an accidental pout, and when he’s angry, he’s stony. Spencer’s good at profiling because it’s his job. You learned it at home. Seeing anger in things most of all. 

“I’m fine. Are you okay?” you ask, wiping your hands on your shirt. “Sorry, I should’ve asked how the case was. It was tough, right? It– I mean, they’re all tough.” You smile as you sit on the couch beside him, one leg tucked underneath you. 

He shakes his head. “I’ve missed something. I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“You’re not acting like yourself.” 

“Sorry.” You wince. “I thought you were having a bad day?” 

“I am. Or, I was.”

Spencer holds out his hand. When you take it, he pulls you toward him with the care of someone who knows what it’s like to be startled, shuffling toward one another to be knee to knee. He holds your arm like it’s all of you, pressing you to his chest. 

For a while, you just sit there. Quiet, almost silent, the apartment rests around you. Spencer frowns at your hand as he draws lines up and down your arm, but slowly his frown softens, and you realise your stress has faded with it. Spencer isn’t angry. And if he were, it’s not with you. 

“Sorry I shut the door hard when I came in,” he says. 

You feel caught. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. Today was really bad, I got into it with Emily and the case… I don’t know. But coming home to you…” 

Spencer curls your fingers over his hand and presses them to the underside of his chin. 

“Thank you for coming over,” he says. “Did you eat?” 

You can’t help smiling, turning your hand slowly to cup his cheek, to hold him still. “I was waiting for you.” 

“Well, you decide and I’ll go pick it up.” 

“I can’t come with you?” 

“Do you want to?” He turns into your touch, glasses pushed against his eye, his lashes on the lense. 

You take back your hand. “Sure.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, we’ll walk. It’ll be nice, the weather’s not too bad.” 

“You feel okay?” he asks. 

“Worried about me?” 

“What your brother might do to me,” he says, nodding into the joke. Then he cracks just as quickly and tugs you in to hug you sideways. “Worried about how I made you feel.” 

It wasn’t Spencer’s fault, but you don’t want to talk about it anymore. You push up taller than him to encircle his head and neck, pressing your nose into the soft crop of his hair. He squeezes the small of your back with similar gusto. “Got my wires crossed,” you mumble. 

”Want me to uncross them?” 

You say, Please, and Spencer pushes you away from him to put your arms firmly on the right sides of you, uncrossing you, and kissing you on the nose. 

[rileyslibrary]

You’ve just moved in with Simon. Great.

There’s one slight problem, though: Due to the nature of his work, the guy interprets everything as an order. And executes accordingly.

———————————————————————

You sit on the kitchen’s table, enjoying breakfast together, when you notice the full trash bin.

“The trash needs to be taken out,” you casually mention, not giving it too much thought.

But, to your surprise, Simon shoots up from his chair like a coiled spring, leaving his half-eaten food behind. “Roger that,” he responds and jogs towards the trash bin, leaving you baffled.

“Simon?”

He stops and turns to look at you.

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to do it right now.”

“When do you want it done?” he asks, waiting for your next command.

“Wh-whenever you can,” you reply, uncertain how else to phrase it.

“I can do it now,” Simon declares and proceeds to the trash bin.

“Babe, we’re eating.” You say and point at the semi-eaten food on the kitchen table.

He looks at the food, then back at you. He shrugs.

“No,” you state, “Come sit down and finish your breakfast first.”

He nods as if Price just gave him the objectives for his next mission and jogs to the table to resume his breakfast.

He’s always like this. Last week, you found a cockroach running in the bathroom, and you screamed so loud that he almost kicked the door. When he asked you what you wanted him to do, your first instinct was a very loud and clear “KILL IT!” without thinking about your statement’s repercussions. He chased it around, murmuring stuff like “Target’s on the move” and other nonsense until he trapped the cockroach in a corner. He stepped on it once and twisted his foot. The cockroach was dead. Gone. Kaput. But he wanted to do it again, to “confirm the kill.” When you told him there was no need since the cockroach was already a pulp and left you all to a better place, he refused and ordered an “evac” of the bathroom to “do it properly.” And when you asked if “properly” meant an AK-47 and camo apparel, he thought about it long and hard before agreeing that further escalation would be unnecessary.

Be it his ingrained behaviour as a soldier to execute orders, deeply rooted within his system, or his fear not to let you down, he was finding it difficult to leave his work duties at the door. He always carried them inside—in the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. He acted like Ghost, not Simon. Everything was a matter of order to him, and there was no time for relaxation.

But it doesn’t have to be like this; you want him to know that. He doesn’t have to be so rigid at home. He can relax and take a step back from his institutionalised habits.

To prove your point, you decide to give him another instruction, this time more indirectly.

You glance at the sink; some pans are picking out from making breakfast this morning.

“Oh boy,” you moan, trying to pull off an act, “we have to clean the dishes at some point.”

He raises his head to look at the kitchen sink, then sides-eyes you.

“Any particular time you want that done?” He asks, ironically.

“I said ‘at some point’, Simon,” you snap, “there’s no urgency.”

“You also said we ‘have’ to do it,” he snaps back. “‘Have to’ has some sort of urgency in it, doesn’t it?”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You’re right, but it’s more of a general statement,” you reply. “We can do it whenever it’s convenient.”

Simon processes your words and nods.

You stare at him while he eats, and you feel a tug at your heart, urging you to address the underlying issue on your mind. You take a deep breath, searching for the right words to express your feelings without offending him. You reach out and touch his arm to grab his attention. He turns to face you.

“You’re so dedicated to what you do; it’s one of the things I love about you,” you begin, “but our home should be a place where we can both unwind and be ourselves without feeling like we’re constantly on a mission.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” he asks.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, wanting to explain them in a way that resonates with him.

“Well, when you jump to fulfil every request or task like it’s an order, it sometimes feels like we’re always on duty,” you explain gently. “I want us to create a more relaxed atmosphere here, where we can enjoy each other’s company and take things at a slower pace.”

He thinks about it for a while.

“Am I doing that?” He asks.

You slowly nod with a gentle smile.

“Affirmative,” he replies, “I’ll try to take it down a notch.”

“No ‘roger’, no ‘affirmative’, nothing like that is needed here,” you explain.

“Is ‘alright’ alright?” He asks.

“Yes,” you smile, “alright is alright.”

He finishes his breakfast and puts his dish in the sink.

“So,” he says, pointing one hand at the dirty dishes and the other at the bin. “Is there any particular order in which you want these two to be done?”

You smile. “No, babe; you take out the trash, and I’ll do the dishes.”

“Underst-alright, alright.” He corrects himself and walks to the garbage. He ties up the bag’s strings and picks up the bin. He spots you looking at him.

“Am I doing something wrong?” He hesitates.

“Why are you taking the entire bin with you?”

He keeps looking at you and places the bin on the floor.

“Just in case the bag’s ripped,” he explains, “I don’t want to spill garbage juice on the floor.”

“Oh.”

“Should I take the bag only?” He asks and begins to remove it from the bin.

“No… that’s pretty smart, actually.”

He raises his eyebrows and points a thumb at himself.

“Yes, Simon,” you nod and smile, “you’re pretty smart and considerate. I’ll carry out the same procedure while on trash bin duty.”

He puffs up his chest and picks up the bin with the bag in it.

“I’m dedicated, smart and considerate.” You hear him boast to himself as he walks towards the exit, ready to execute his mission.

———————————————————————

[moeyynorris]

She Tastes Like Home

Lando Norris x F!Reader

Warnings: smut (oral f!receiving). That’s it. That’s all it really is. Oh, and it’s not very well edited because I’m lazy. Sorry.

Lando grinned the moment he walked through the hotel bathroom door, fresh and clean from his shower. Practice 2 had been frustrating, but he got info for the team so they could sort out the problems. Things were going to work out, everything was going to be ok.

Which is why you were confused by Lando’s solemn expression… until it clicked.

The two of you had been in Japan for 4 days now, having gotten there a bit early so you could see the sights. But, that was 4 days away from the comfort zone you both called home.

That was it; Lando was homesick.

“Come lay with me, baby,” you begged with a whisper, patting the spot on the bed beside you. A sweet yet devilish smile answered you as Lando slowly made his way over to you. His emerald gaze darkened as he stopped at the end of the bed, taking in your form. His eyes lingered on the white, semi-sheer cami you loved to sleep in. Then, they trailed down to the matching panties, licking his lips.

You re-captured Lando’s gaze. “See something you like, handsome?”

His lips parted as he drank you in. Then, he leaned forward, arching his bare torso over the edge of the bed. His long fingers gripped the sheet slightly as he pulled himself towards you.

A lightly calloused palm caressed your knee, urging it away from the other. Lando bit his bottom lip as he hoisted himself forward one last time, his face hovering over the thin material that hid his prize.

“Lando—“ you breathed, begging him to say something. He peered up at you through curled lashes.

“I love you,” he managed, something between a whisper and a growl. Your breath huffed out of you.

“I love you t—“ your word ended in a low moan as Lando’s finger traced up your clothed slit. He slid his finger up and down, smirking as your body tensed.

Your hummed and gasped as he continued, seeming to enjoy just watching you, how you reacted to his mere touch.

“I need to—“ he groaned as he reached up and tugged your panties down. You lifted up so he could get them completely off you. The moment they were off, he left a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses up each of your thighs. Then, he hovered over your wet heat, his breath sending shivers over your hot skin.

“Lando, please.” Thats all he needed. He slipped a finger through your slick, then another, parting your folds. His thumb found your swollen clit and began to slowly roll circles over the nub. Your back arched as you let out a whimper.

His tongue finally flicked at the glistening flesh, before he flattened his tongue and slowly slid up your folds. “Mmmm,” he hummed, licking the slick from his lips. “You taste like home,” he groaned. He went in for another long taste of you, his thumb quickening its pace.

“Lando, oh—“ you gasp, wiggling under him. His free hand pinned your hip down, holding you still. Then, he replaced his thumb with his tongue, the muscle swirling over your swollen nub.

A raspy moan left you as a finger toyed with your entrance. It entered you, only half way, then he pulled it back out. You bucked against his grasp, desperate for friction. He grinned against your folds, then gave you what you wanted.

Two fingers squeezed their way deep inside you. He pulled them out, then thrusted them back in. He quickly found a rhythm, thrusting and curling while his tongue rubbed and swirled against you.

You bucked and wiggled against him, quickly feeling your release closing in. You reached down, grasping onto his wild curls as he savored you.

His head rose up, blackened eyes meeting yours. “C’mon baby. Cum for me.” Lando licked his glistening lips and grinned, watching your body as it inched closer to bliss. “C’mon my love.” He licked another stripe over your folds before getting back to work.

Within seconds, you felt a throbbing in your core. His fingers, his eyes, his flexing muscles, his tongue. It was all too much.

Your back arched as the first wave hit you. You bucked against Lando’s merciless effort, whimpering and moaning his name as you rode each wave. He continued his dance as you writhed beneath him, grasping his locks, your other hand in the bed sheets.

“Oh my god,” you huffed as you came down. Lando lifted his head and pulled his hands away. You whined at the loss of touch.

“Oh no, Lando is just fine,” he teased, shooting you a wink. You rolled your eyes and whined as you wiggled under him again.

He chuckled. “Oh, impatient are we?” You huffed in frustration. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m just getting started.”

[pogueprincess]

Watermelon Sugar

summary: Family brunches are boring, Aegon makes them more fun.

pairing: Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Niece!Reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: Explicit smut, alcohol consumption, incest in a modern setting (whoops), fingering, p in v sex, semi-public sex 18+ MDNI

note: This is a repost …. Feedback is appreciated!

The warm sun illuminated your skin as you reluctantly made your way over to your seat for brunch. Viserys had planned it — his own feeble attempt to bring your fractured family together, even if it was only for a brief moment. For the most part, it worked. Everyone tried to behave themselves, though gatherings like this usually ended in a confrontation of some sort.

Before you even arrived at your seat, you felt a hand wrap around your waist, tugging at the hem of your sundress.

"Whew! Who are you all dressed up for?"

Aegon asked as you batted his hand away, shooting him a look of disapproval.

There was an unspoken thing between the two of you, everybody knew it. However, you didn't need him pawing at your waist in front of the entire family.

"Charming as ever I see."

He flashed a grin at you in response; that boyish smile of his made you weak in the knees.

"Here," he handed you the mimosa that was in his hand, "you're going to need it," he whispered before making his way back to his own seat.

You kept your eye locked on him as he retreated to his designated spot. Noting that Aemond was muttering something to him as he sat down.

"What?" he retorted, "I can't say hi to our niece?" Turns out, Aemond wasn't the only one annoyed with Aegon's show of affection.

"You'd think he would know better than to encourage you to drink at this hour," your brother admonished you, nodding his head toward Aegon in annoyance.

"It's brunch, Jace," you say before taking a large sip of the mimosa, "live a little."

"Right. Because Aegon needs an excuse to drink at noon."

"Please," you pleaded, "don't start."

"I'm not," he huffed, before shoveling a forkful of eggs in his mouth, "I'm just saying."

Thankfully your brother's comments ended there and so far everything was going well. Lucerys was sat next to Daeron — as far away from Aemond as possible, which was key to any family event running smoothly. The two young boys were talking loudly about a video game. Your mother and Alicent were giggling amongst themselves, talking so low you couldn't decipher what they were saying. Aemond sat stoically in his seat, occasionally stealing a glance at Helaena, who was tapping aimlessly at her phone, playing some sort of trivia game that you could only assume had something to do with bugs.

Every so often Aemond would glare at you, and then at Aegon who was now three mimosas deep.

If you could make it through brunch peacefully, you would find yourself back at the keep with your family later that evening. And if you played your cards right, you'd get your claws into Aegon.

It didn't take long for you to figure out that family gatherings such as these served to be rather boring when there was no fighting involved.

Staring down at the plate of fruit in front of you, an idea popped into your head. Maybe you could make your own fun.

You plucked a piece of watermelon from the plate and took a small bite, allowing the juice to run down your chin onto your chest. Rubbing your thumb along your bottom lip, swirling the juice in a fake attempt to clean yourself up. Innocently glancing over at Aegon through your lashes. His eyes were fixated on your breasts, flicking them up to make direct eye contact as you began to suck on the fruit. His lips parted in anticipation as suck on the fruit.

But, Aegon wasn't the only one watching, Aemond's eye was also locked on you. He was hard to read, but he looked disappointed by your actions. Feeling heated and a bit flustered you decide to go freshen yourself up.

"If you would excuse me, I’m going to go to the restroom," you announced to the table before making a beeline to the other side of the restaurant.

As you went to shut the door behind you, a hand shot through and Aegon made his way into the small space with you.

"What are you doing?!" You hiss.

"What am I doing?! What are you doing?" He spun you around and wrapped his arms around you tightly, pressing his bulge against your backside.

"What are you doing? Huh?" He repeated as he inhaled the sweet scent of your hair. A mixture of apple from your shampoo, and vanilla from your perfume.

"Gods, you're going to be the death of me," he groaned in your ear.

"This dress," he rasped, releasing his grasp on you to tug at the hem of it, "that little show you put on out there." His large hand came down and smacked your ass harshly, causing you to yelp.

Aegon wasted no time and lifted you up onto the marble counter with quickness, kissing you deeply.

Against your will, a moan escaped your lips.

Aegon took this as an okay to continue. Snaking his tongue into your mouth, pushing your legs apart so he could settle in between them.

He tasted so good — remnants of orange juice, champagne and a subtle hint of tobacco filled your senses. His hands dug into your thighs with such force, you were sure his rings were going to leave marks, but you didn't care. He nipped at your your neck and kissed down your chest, licking the sticky remnants of the watermelon juice from the valley of your breasts.

Once he made his way further down, he began to began to take his time. Lifting your dress slowly, the pads of his fingers ghosting your thighs. The anticipation was killing you.

"Mmm, Aeg. Please," you whined.

He chuckled at you and lifted your dress up, bunching it around your hips to reveal your underwear. He took a minute to admire the damp spot that was forming in the center, and you felt a slight blush form across your cheeks. His thick fingers finally made contact with your pussy, rubbing them against the thin, lacy, material of your panties. He looped his fingers through the sides and quickly ripped them down your legs, exposing you to the cool air. He took no time to slide his fingers through your folds, gathering your slick.

"Oh look at you," he purred appreciatively, "so naughty, baby."

A loud moan erupted from your chest as he used his index finger to slowly trace around the opening of your cunt, each swipe had you silently begging he would slip it inside.

That devilish grin of his flashed across his face once more as he looked up at you.

"Don't get desperate on me now. l've barely even touched you. Gotta keep quiet, huh baby?"

A simple nod in response was all you were able to give him.

"Good girl" he drawled as he pushed his finger into you.

"Fuck, Aeg. Feels s'good," you whispered.

His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he began to move his hand faster, adding a second finger in. The pleasure was so overwhelming you forgot where you were. In a cramped, unisex bathroom, with your entire family seated at a table not too far away from the door.

All you cared about was that you wanted more, no, needed more. You squirmed against him, trying to get his fingers deeper into you.

He took the hint and obliged. Pressing them harder into you, pumping in and out with vigor.

He used the calloused pad of his thumb to push violently against your clit. He reached the spongy spot within your walls and pressed firmly into it, his free hand pushing down on your stomach as he continued to thrust his fingers. Occasionally scissoring them, stretching you out even more. It soon became too much for you. You felt your stomach drop and your walls tighten as your cunt squeezed around his digits.

"Thereee she is," he sing-songed. That's it, good girl."

He continued to fuck you with his fingers through your orgasm. Your ears rang, your vision blurred and white-hot electricity pumped through your veins. When he finally removed his fingers from your pussy he brought them up to your mouth, watching with bright eyes as you sucked your release off them, pushing them down your throat causing you to gag a little.

Releasing his fingers from your mouth you shimmied off the bathroom counter, fumbling to unbuckle Aegon's pants.

"Uh uh, baby. We will have time for me later. We have brunch to get back to.

As eager to please you as he was, Aegon was not one to usually turn down his own pleasure. You were unsure if he was being serious, or if he just wanted to hear you beg for it.

"Aeg, please."

He didn't need anymore convincing.

"Put your hands on the counter," he demanded as he spun you around. Unbuckling his belt, sliding his jeans and boxers down his legs with quickness; allowing his already hard cock to spring free and slap against his stomach. Lifting your leg before shoving himself between your folds. You groaned and tried to push yourself closer to him. He let out a laugh and smacked your ass, causing you to jolt forward.

"Be still," he growled.

You nodded your head eagerly, the palms of your hands resting against the cold marble. He filled you to the hilt with one single thrust, spearing you open.

As he began to move in and out of you, his hands tugged at your hips. "Oh, fuck!" you mewled loudly before his palm slapped over your mouth to keep you quiet.

He leaned over you, panting with his breath hot on your ear.

"What would Jace think," he whispered, venom in in his voice, "knowing that his precious little sister is a whore for my cock, huh?" You bit down your lip and squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to cum for a second time from his lewd words.

"Or Aemond?" he taunted, "our prim and perfect niece bent over for me like a dirty little slut."

Agon bit down hard on your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, causing you to moan and arch your back, meeting his thrusts. He makes direct eye contact with you in the mirror as he continued to pound into you.

"Oh, you like that, huh? You like being my dirty little slut?" You nodded your head feverently, the walls of your cunt contracting, sucking him in.

"You gonna cum again for me baby? Gonna make a mess on my cock?"

"Fuck, yes. I'm gonna cum! Aegon, please, please make me cum."

Your nails dug into the counter as he fucked into you, the head of his cock pressed against your sweet spot with precision. He reached up, grabbing your breast, pinching your nipple roughly, pushing you over the edge one final time.

Your second orgasm washed over you with such intensity, it was almost painful. Your cunt squeezed around Aegon's cock, threatening to pull his own release from him.

"Shhh, that's it, there you go," he cooed. With a few more harsh thrusts against your cervix, his cock twitched inside you, pearly ropes of him coating your walls.

You could feel his heart beating through his chest, as his breathing slowed down. He kissed your neck and nuzzled his head inyour hair before quickly pulling out of you, immediately pulling his pants back up.

"Holy fuck," you breathed as he handed you back your underwear.

Whatever train of thought you had was interrupted by a knock.

"We're leaving! And you guys are assholes!”

Aemond's voice called from the other side of the door.

The two of you burst out laughing before making your way out of the bathroom.

[mxdnightlvers]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲𓆩♡𓆪

➸ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Sumeru men when they're needy for you <3

➸𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Alhaitham, Scara/Wanderer, Kaveh

➸ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: degradation, overstim, lots of cum, slight dehumanization

➸ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬/𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: Gender Neutral Pronouns & Reader

➸ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg I swear I need to 'get back in the flow' every time I come back here because my god is uni work killing me, however I do miss writing and sometimes I end up writing when I have chance and voila a full post like this gets completed :D

𝐀𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦❦

When Alhaitham is needy he turns into a completely different person, the calm, collected persona he usually keeps up slips in almost an instant. Your hands have turned frail, unable to hold yourself upright as Alhaitham keeps you in the perfect place for his cock to reach deep inside you. One placed on your chest, and the other pressed against your lower stomach as he feels every thrust through you. He’s leaning over you, voice brushing so sweetly against your ear, the intensity of his breathing yet the gentleness of his moans flustering you so much that you’re unable to make any sort of eye contact. The way his words flow so perfectly together despite his stuttering as he tells you he’s going to cum again. He doesn't stop for even a moment, even after he's already cum, he continues to fuck you because god- he cannot get enough of you and how good you feel. He’s too needy, the warmth and desire he feels seems to never run out. Using your pretty body to his satisfaction, fucking you how fast he wants, how much he wants, and cumming inside you as many times as he wants.

You’re overstimulated, unable to barely think- to barely speak. But oh, how he loves seeing you like this for him. “You can cum for me again right sweetheart?” He doesn’t expect a response, simply satisfied by your flustered yet failed attempt at an answer. Flipping you on your back so he has even more access to your body. Leaving hickeys wherever he pleases as he brings you to yet another orgasm. You're practically filled to the brim with cum, the white liquid leaking down your thighs and onto the bed, even on your stomach because Alhaitham couldn't keep his messy, needy hands off you. As your breathing finally slows down and you feel your sense of clarity being regained, you feel his cock move in you once more, "I'm not finished with you yet sweetheart." <3

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚❦

He gets even more demanding when he's needy. Having you down on your knees and shoving his cock inside your mouth, enjoying the tears welling up in your eyes as he forces himself down your throat. Pulling you off him and guiding your head to drag your tongue along his cock, tracing his most sensitive- and favorite places. When he's satisfied with that he shoves his entire cock down your throat once more, his head thrown back as he uses your mouth like a fleshlight, a low, sadistic laugh emerging when he looks down at your pathetic form. "You enjoy being used like this don't you slut?" You'd love to answer him if only your mouth wasn't filled with his cock. He chuckles, holding your hair tighter to keep you in place, "Yeah that's right- you belong on my cock like the pathetic whore you are." His words alone have you rubbing your thighs together for some form of friction.

His soft mewls slowly become louder and whinier as he fucks your mouth faster, pulling and tugging at your hair when he finally cums. There is simply so much that his cum ends up spilling and dripping down the corners of your mouth. He gently wipes it off, his fingers tracing your lips before forcing them past your lips and into your mouth. "Such a messy little thing aren't you?" A sweetly condescending tone as he watches you lick his fingers clean. When you're done, he leans back and pats his lap, signaling you to get on top of him. You're on him in an instant, desperate to feel him inside you. "You're gonna ride me til I'm satisfied slut." <3

𝐊𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐡❦ (𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯 𝐛𝐨𝐲 <3)

He's so pathetic and whiny when he's needy! His hands could barely keep to themselves, holding onto your shirt or waist, anything he can reach. Soft whines when you pull away a little too far, flushed cheeks swollen as he pouts, pleading eyes peeking through his messy blonde hair- it's such an adoring sight to see the Kshahrewar student so cute and needy for you. But can you blame him though, he just wants you as close to him as possible! You're so painfully slow with your traces around his cock that he's resisting the urge to fuck into your hands like a bitch in heat. But no, he will let you have your way with him, even if it meant that every feathered touch of yours made him more sensitive.

He's already a moaning mess the moment you decide to get on top of him, words completely incomprehensible. The only intelligible ones are soft broken whines of "please" over and over and over. "P-please....don't stop- please you feel so good don't stop.." His voice is shaky, if it wasn't for his stained cheeks you'd be surprised he's crying. It just feels so good, overwhelmed with pure lust for you. Slender hands leaving small imprints on your hips as he tightens his grip on you. His pretty moans growing louder as he nears his orgasm. Unable to stay quiet as he feels you tighten around his cock. Dazed ruby eyes look up at you, struggling to stay open, on the verge of falling asleep and you decide to give him a break. "mmm noo..." soft pleas beg you to come closer as he holds your waist in place, "please...fuck me again." <3

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain, some talk of traumatic injury

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.2k words

At five thirty in the morning, you send Sirius a text. 

Be on time, and there’s a caramel latte in your future. If you’re late I’m giving it to Marcello. 

Marcello is the guy who comes in early every morning to resurface the ice. You actually ordered a drink for him, too, but Sirius doesn’t need to know that. 

The morning air is cool and refreshing, sweeping across your cheeks in the self-made breeze of your brisk steps. You can only have one hand in your pocket with the other holding the drink carrier, but you don’t mind the bite of cold on your fingers. You’ve always loved the sharp, clean feel of winter weather. Though Sirius complains this time of year about leaving practice just to encounter yet more cold outside, the chilly air has always made you feel alive, invigorated. It wakes you up as you walk to the rink. 

Marcello leaves the staff door open for you every morning so that you can practice early. He’s still out on the Zamboni, so you leave his drink on the front desk where he’ll see it. You know you’re not the first person to the rink, but it surprises you that you’re not the second. 

It surprises you even more to find your new coach in the off-ice room. 

Remus is lying on the floor, one knee bent and the other ankle crossed over it in a stretch you recognize. His eyes are closed and his expression pinched. His chest rises and falls with deep, measured breaths. 

“Hi.” 

You try to announce your presence softly, but Remus' eyes fly open like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. You find yourself taking a step back as though to avoid frightening him. 

“Sorry,” you say automatically, and automatically, Sirius’ For what, doll? sounds in your head like an overplayed song. You set your shoulders back and walk over to Remus, crouching to set his drink beside him on the floor. You’ve wagered your bets on a plain tea; he seems like the no-nonsense sort. “I didn’t expect anyone else here this early, but this is for you.” 

“Thanks.” Remus grunts quietly as he sits up, and you pretend you don’t hear. He takes a tentative sip from his cup. You deduce that you’ve wagered correctly when his eyes close blissfully. “I can go if you want the room to stretch.” 

“That’s alright. Plenty of room for both of us,” you say awkwardly. 

But as soon as you set your foot up on the ballet bar, you second-guess yourself. Is it difficult for him, watching you do things he can no longer do himself? You knew about Remus’ injury—everyone does—but seeing his face creased in pain doing such a simple stretch is another thing entirely. 

You watch him covertly as you bend over your leg, feeling the pleasant strain in your muscles, but Remus’ expression doesn’t change. He only stands, taking his ankle in one hand and wrapping the other around the bar as he stretches his quads. 

Remus has long fingers, you’ve noticed. Pianist’s fingers. They make you think of every routine of his you’ve seen a million times, arms and hands always outstretched to emphasize the facile grace of his movements. He was art in motion, in his day. Now you’re not sure what he is. Still lovely, but something else. 

“I wanted to apologize.” 

Remus’ voice breaks into your reverie so gently that at first you think you’ve imagined it. You look up at him, bemused, and his gaze is steady on yours. It’s that skater’s poise. Quiet, resolute. 

“I didn’t mean to shout at you yesterday,” he says. “I was frustrated because I feel like you really could get past that jump with just a tiny adjustment—” his face tenses as some of that frustration seeps back into his voice now, but Remus quells it “—but I shouldn’t have raised my voice. Sirius was right, I wasn’t telling you in a way that was helpful.” 

“It’s okay.” Your voice comes out smaller than you mean for it to, but the air in the room feels thick and awkward. You’re not used to needing to have these conversations with people on your team. You, Sirius, and your coach used to be a unit. There was no need for shouting matches and make-ups. You had years of history together; you knew how to handle each other. You miss that ease terribly now. 

“What I should have said,” Remus goes on, “is that I’ve noticed you hesitating before a lot of higher difficulty jumps. You’ll be about to go into it, and then you second-guess yourself and under-rotate. That doesn’t work on the ice.” 

You drop your gaze, nodding. “I know,” you say as you swap legs on the bar. “I’ll try to stop.” 

“We’ll work on it.” Remus’ voice softens, and you glance up to find a sheepish sort of kindness in his eyes. One corner of his mouth lifts tentatively. “And I’ll work on giving better feedback the first time around.” 

You return his smile, a heavy load in your chest lifting just slightly. It feels like the return of your cautious optimism from before yesterday’s practice, like flirting with the possibility of everything being all right after all. Maybe you can salvage the season after all. 

Sirius practically stomps into the room, dark circles under both eyes and looking like he hates the world and everyone in it. Remus’ almost-smile evaporates. 

“Here you are.” You pass Sirius his coffee magnanimously. “Thank you for being on time.” 

He takes a long sip. Once he’s finished, he says gravely, “This can’t continue.” 

“You’ll get used to it,” you promise as Remus lets his foot drop and steps away from the bar to make room for Sirius. 

“Ten minutes of stretching,” your coach says gruffly. You feel your lips purse dissatisfiedly; you take this to mean that although he’s apologized to you, he’s not over his tiff with Sirius from the day before. Remus turns from the room. “I’ll see you out there.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You manage to get through practice without bloodshed. Remus is short and businesslike, but while his pointers don’t leave much room for conversation he does take the time to make sure you understand him and he praises you when you improve. Sirius doesn’t spare many words for your new coach, though you know him saying little is likely an improvement over what he’d have to say if he did speak up. Still, he’s not exactly thorough in making sure Remus doesn’t see the smirks and derisive looks he sends your way every time your coach’s voice reaches you across the ice. The other boy pretends not to notice. 

It doesn’t escape you either that Remus has far less critiques for Sirius than for you. Sirius is more likely to get ahead of himself so that he falls out of sync with you, whereas you’re more likely to fall in general. 

You didn’t used to be like this. Just a handful of weeks ago you and Sirius were an equal match, but recent events have planted an anxiety in you that makes you bail out of your risker jumps and sabotages your routine. Remus is right; you’re hesitant. Sirius throws himself into every move, full-bodied and artful, but you just can’t do the same. Until you can catch up and get back to where you were, you’re a liability. 

You land most of your jumps, fall on more than usual, and by the time practice wraps up you know you’ll be bruised all over. If Remus is frustrated with you again, he’s better at hiding it. He only instructs you to work on whatever mental block is hindering you, promises to see you both tomorrow, and goes. 

Then Sirius can’t contain himself any longer. 

“God, what a prick,” he fumes as he puts guards on his skates. He starts undoing his laces, nails cut short for the season but still painted a shimmery black. “I hate that stupid line he gets between his eyebrows right before he lays into us. He’s like a sixty-year-old schoolteacher stuck in a twenty-something body.” 

You look down to hide a smile. “He was nicer today, though. That’s something.” 

Sirius scoffs. “Yeah, so was I. Did you lay into him, too?” 

“Didn’t have to,” you say complacently. “He apologized himself. You know, like adults do.” 

“Don’t be daft. He’s not taking the high road, he just doesn’t want to lose his job.” 

You turn to give Sirius an exasperated look, only he’s looking back at you with a similar expression. 

You know Sirius thinks you’re being too trusting of your new coach. He only wants to protect you, both of you, but something he’s never been able to grasp is that optimism doesn’t have to be blind. You can be wary of Remus, can have that same desire to protect the team you and Sirius have built together, and at the same time be hopeful that he really will be the thing you need. You’re desperate to make this work for the both of you. You’re a pair in repair, and though it was your former coach that broke you, if there’s a chance that Remus could fix things you’re ready to welcome him with open arms. 

Peter was Sirius’ friend before he was yours. He fell into coaching you both almost by accident, it felt so natural. Both you and Sirius had coaches throughout your childhoods, but it was nice to have someone around your own age, who viewed skating through the same lens as you did and could talk to you on a more personal level. Peter was your friend in a way your other coaches hadn’t been. That made his betrayal sting all the worse. 

There had been a hearing, when Peter’s texts came out. The International Skating Union had gotten involved. He’d been sharing things—tips, secrets, videos of your entire routine from start to finish—with another team. It felt odd, reading about it in the news. Almost invasive. It felt like something you should be discussing back at Sirius’, the three of you sat in your usual places around his living room, hashing it out the way you always did. But you weren’t a unit anymore. 

Sirius didn’t want another coach at all after that. You could keep each other in check, he said, and realistically anyone you hired would know all about your recent disaster with Peter. Your names were attached to one of the largest figure skating scandals the community had had in years. You saw the logic in your partner’s reluctance, but you still thought you needed an outside perspective to tell you when you both were going wrong. You needed a real coach. Then, you’d thought of Remus. 

You wish you could say it was Remus’ illustrious figure skating career that drew you to him. He was the golden boy of the sport for nearly a decade, shooting up into stardom at an unprecedented age. He earned enough medals to likely break whatever shelf his family tried to put them on, and he took home gold for Britain at just seventeen. But truthfully, it was his isolation that appealed to you. 

Remus Lupin left the figure skating community entirely after his injury. He’d returned to his hometown in Wales, reportedly to be with his family but more likely to heal—physically and mentally, from the hip dislocation that cost him Worlds and then the rest of his career. By all accounts, he would have been the last person to follow your hearing or any of the ensuing gossip everyone else you spoke to seemed to take as gospel. You had to fight tooth and nail to get Sirius to let you hire Remus, and even still he’s resistant to the addition to your team. But it’s in Sirius’ nature to expect people to hurt him; you have to be the opposite to compensate. 

“He said you were right,” you say lightly. 

Sirius blinks. “Pardon?” 

You shrug, feigning insouciance. “I don’t think it’s likely he’ll ever say it to your face, but this morning Remus told me that you were right, and he does need to communicate his feedback better. He seemed better about it today, right? I think it’s sweet that he’s trying.” 

Sirius scowls, standing while you finish packing up. “He’s kissing your ass because he knows you were the one who wanted him. He doesn’t give a shit about us.” 

“I didn’t mention anything,” you reply. “And he may not, but he definitely gives a shit about skating. I walked in on him stretching in the off-ice room this morning. It was…sad.” A small part of you feels wrong for sharing this, even with Sirius; it felt like a private moment you’d intruded on, although Remus had been stretching in a public place. “You can tell he really misses it, you know?” 

Sirius is quiet for a beat, and when you look over he’s sucking his teeth. Peering at you in that way of his, like he’s got you all figured out. 

“You should have a heart-to-heart with him about it,” he says blankly. “He seems like the sort of bloke who really enjoys a pity party.” 

“Prick.” You stand, bumping your shoulder into his roughly. Sirius wraps an arm around them to bind you to his side, walking you towards the exit. “We’re stopping for donuts on our way home. You owe me after I bought your coffee.” 

“Oi, bribery’s no good if I have to pay it back. And what would your new favorite coach say about us eating those during the season?” 

“The same as any coach; nothing, because we’re not gonna tell him.”

[n0tamused]

HSR/Genshin Characters as Dragons

A/n: guys this series is getting out of hand I think I need to end it (jokes on you I will never stop talking about dragons). I really hope you are all enjoying this as much as I am <3

Contents: Argenti, Boothill, Dottore as dragons, x reader, gn reader, angst, fluff

Ko-fi

Argenti:

-Another pretty dragon to the list, and one amongst the kinder ones out there. A gentle giant by heart, he seeks to protect all beauty and innocence in the universe

-His kind is generally perceived as greedy and hostile, but for all negative traits his species has, he makes up for them tenfold.

-He tiptoes around young ones and anyone too small or too slow, he carries them if need be without being prompted to. Elderly and the kids have grown to love his presence and assistance, however scarce it may be since he comes and goes like the wind, chasing whatever enemy he spotted. Sometimes he can be overbearing with how eager he is to help, be it in human or dragon form

-He doesn’t shy away from his dragon form whatsoever, and since it is made for battle he uses its advantages against his enemies. His scales are quite tough and not many things can pierce him, and the horn in the middle of his forehead acts like a spear. One swing of his head is usually all it takes to take down his opponent

-Even covered in blood and grime after a battle or trial, he still holds a certain air of regality and elegance as he walks down the path to civilization where he goes to get cleaned (idk but I keep imagining a specific image. It's Argenti with blood on his center horn and looking sort of unbothered or innocent. Like those images of unicorns with blood on their horns yk?)

-His spikes are reminiscent of rose thorns, and very sharp.

-While he appreciates all the praise, he doesn’t consider himself worthy of it, and while he does love all the kids running to him - he does prefer that they don’t touch him for the same reason. He is not worthy of it, he is a knight of beauty but he is tainted, and he doesn’t want to taint the little young souls.

-It took some time until he let you come close to his form, and for a little he did feel overwhelmingly guilty. He always carries a sense of guilt and incompetence, he got used to that taste in his mouth

-He would jump into any battle honestly, and especially if it involves you. He grew to care about you a bit too much

-He spends much more time in human form around you, when battle is done and over with he would go to you after getting cleaned and tidied up, wishing to know and hear again that you are alright. And while you talk he always wonders if you were blessed by Idrila themselves, or perhaps you were set on his path by the Goddess of Beauty for him to meet? If this was another trial, he felt like he was failing - and failure never tasted better.

-He prays he doesn’t lose you. He does love to sing you praises whenever he can, and if he is passing by in his dragon form he lets out a little purr/soft chirp.

-Argenti often visits later at night, a rose in hand yet to bloom fully. And by morning, the petals unroll to reveal the deep red bloom, but by then he is long gone, and the conversation is but a memory to you both

Boothill:

-Boothill is a feral dragon, a hostile one and is to be avoided at all costs - many posters around towns say so, and if there is a rumble through the ground you can be sure there are people herding others into the closest building.

-He is nothing to scoff at. If he was a fierce dragon before, the metal, indestructible body didn’t make him any less soft. The IPC certainly had their ‘fun’ with creating him as he is now. They had attempted to put wings on him but the new body was already too heavy, so that idea was scrapped. Boothill did have wings in his previous body, his own wings that took him high above the ground and over lakes and sandy dunes, but now he will never fly again. 

-Nor will he be human anymore. He had died in his dragon form, and the power which allowed him to go between human and beast had died along with his past life. He’s not sure what’s worse - being half machine, marked by anguish and anger, or not being able to see the world from the lenses of a human, from a 6ft height and not 20 or so feet higher than that. 

-He was confined to the ground. But as soon as he had made his escape from the IPC’s clutches, he was gone for good.

-He had done it himself and removed the chips that marked his location and destroyed pieces of him that would have revealed him, and he made use of the ground he knew too well, better than them anyway.

-Somewhere along the lines, he joined the Galaxy Rangers and they patched him up, gave him whatever missing pieces he needed and he found his place among them.

-It took a long, long time for him to somewhat settle in his new body, the phantom pains and limbs never went away though.

-Now, though, whenever he arrives at a new planet he doesn’t take up too much space or makes himself known, he prefers the life of solitude and his own solo missions

-Sometimes someone may bump into him, but they’re never harmed unless they’re a part of the IPC. He has developed quite the keen senses for them.

-However you wormed your way into his, now, mechanical heart, I congratulate you. Seeing how physically impossible it can be to reach him

-But Boothill is quite chill once you get into a talk with him, and although sometimes he can get lost in the talk he does try to keep his voice down to a lower volume so he doesn’t hurt your ears. He’d lay down after lighting a small fire for you, his eye closer to where he can see you “normally” - and not from somewhere in the clouds. And from there on you two would talk and exchange stories. If you happen to be another dragon he’d be more at ease, and more at home too since he doesn’t have to tip toe as much around you or around certain subjects

-If you happen to be another dragon he does love to lock horns from time to time and wrestle a little like that, it gives his real skin some stimulation and something to feel. It may not be a fair battle as he is mechanical, but he tries to make it fair by letting a few screws loose- he doesn’t tell you that though.

-Speaking of that, he did once have his wrist nearly fall off due to this, he was trying to get some more ground to push himself off and the screw just popped out and he slipped, crashing into the ground as if he forgot how to walk

-Regardless if you are just a human or if you can take a form of  dragon, you have earned yourself the scary dog privilege (a dog that is secretly real nice and soft when you are around)

-also side note but in the art I did forget to draw the "thumb" on his hind right leg, apologies but yeah he'd have 5 fingers on all his limbs

Dottore:

-DOTTTORRRRREEEEEEEEEEEE

-Anyway.

-He wasn’t well loved by his surroundings in the place he originally hails from and he was exiled by his own kin, being chased to the edges of his region to be left to the elements - wherever that may be at this point because all records give different answers, and no one who has gone after him has returned alive.

-The hunger for knowledge grew from day to day, he had grown quite obsessive with getting the results he wanted. At this time he wasn’t exactly small, so he’d use the size of his dragon to his advantage as well, be it to frighten someone or to amaze another. It didn’t matter, as long as he got what he wanted. He doesn’t know anything else but the acts of setting a hypothesis and proving it true, or wrong, or finding another result equally as good. Nothing pleased him more than to succeed.

-His original body was paler than the one he has now, and while that could be blamed on growing up, it can also easily be said that it was a result of his experiments, and perhaps this form is just one of his many clones. Who’s to say he doesn’t have a pale blue dragon spying somewhere else while this black beast stalks around the Akademiya?

-His wings have three appendages on them which allow for easy manipulation of items or opponents, so he doesn’t often see the need to revert back and forth between forms unless something is delicate and requires that human touch.

-He is calculating and a mastermind behind many inventions, both mechanical and medicinal based. He can easily cure many ailments or fix up complex pieces of machinery that have long since been lost to histories. He has invented his own too, the clones are the biggest proof and only a small glimpse of what he is capable of. 

-The Omega Build can be said to be the closest to what he looks like in truth, but in terms of personality they can differ a bit. Omega is much more selfish and prone to using charm that the Prime wouldn’t really strive to use.

-Dottore does have the size and strength and all the power he could need to take down anyone, and while he may not be the biggest dragon you should be smarter than to think he can fall easily in battle. He has the power that can match that of an Archon - you really think he would be defeated to someone lesser than that?

-Underneath that mask you may find either his red eyes and scarred face, or an open part of his body that reveals the metal underneath and the red star that act as his eyes.

-He can walk bipedally and quadrupedally. 

-Another thing he is quite proficient at is mimicking sounds, and with that he lured people in. Some papers, implied to be him and some other Akademiya student, talk about how the young female student was lured away by sounds into a cavern, where she was promptly ripped apart. This death was blamed on the starving tigers found in the area, but Dottore knows the real story behind that attack.

-He is quite a good looking dragon, but can easily make your blood run cold with a simple flash of his sharp teeth. 

-You want one of his feathers, you say? Sure, you may have one, he’ll pluck it out himself and hand it to you. But don’t think it will come free.

Size chart:

- Argenti is actually a smaller dragon for his kind

-Had a bit of a difficult time sizing these boys up, but shh

-Dottore was smaller before, but after he began to make clones and also modify himself he grew more as a result of all those experiments (but is this the 'original'? Hmmm)

-Boothill once looked a bit disproportionate in the first mechanical body he had, since the IPC got wrong measurements, or perhaps it was on purpose as an act of some humiliation to break his spirits, along with making him crawl around without limbs as "punishment" (ah yes, I love Boothill lore)

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

Tags: @moonlitreveri3 @lexidraws2 @drowning-in-cabbages @creationsabyss @grimulf-of-the-wilderness @st4rrl1ghtwastaken @the-inquisitive-constellation @voiddance @the-bilkush @fictionally-attached

[fartcloudfartcloud]

Simon Riley x Maid!Reader

based on this text post

Summary: Simon has a house cleaner come clean once a month. What happens when she goes on vacation, and you're her replacement?

warnings: sfw but theres tension 😋, will make an nsfw part two if you guys want it :), Simon being big and scary and offputting per usual, lots of internal dialogue

a/n: loved this concept, and since I actually worked a door to door cleaning job I thought this fit so well and needed to write it. hope u enjoy :)

You took a deep breath.

These were the steps you were to take in this job. You had no reason to feel unsafe or in danger of any sort. Yet, the thought of walking up and knocking on this door had your heart in your stomach.

Simon Riley Is what the work order had listed as the clients name. Ex Military. Large German Shepard named Riley. Liked his wooden floors cleaned with vinegar instead of the regular cleaning solution. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

Except for the entry instructions. The small box on the piece of paper that would normally hold a few finely printed words, things such as "Homeowner will be not be home, key is under welcome mat"

or "Homeowner will be home and located in office on second floor, door will be unlocked"

had big, bold font to start. Your manager had to go in and manually change that detail, and knowing her, that must mean this is serious.

The box reads-

"DO NOT ATTEMPT TO OPEN DOOR. HOMEOWNER IS EX MILITARY AND EXTREMELY STRICT. RING FRONT DOORBELL ONCE AND WAIT."

Yeah. Very normal and not at all gut-wrenching.

You keep taking deep breaths as you go through your routine. Read the work order thoroughly once more, try not to shit yourself, go and grab your equipment, and follow the instructions.

Easy. Just follow the routine.

Your equipment is as big and clunky as usual. With a vacuum on your back, a bucket full of microfiber towels, a backpack full of chemicals, and knee pads on both knees, you knew for sure you were a sight for sore eyes.

You're not quiet as you walk either, each step making every plastic piece of your puzzle clunk and scrape in a cacophony of reminders of why you were here. You thunk and bang your way up the front porch, eyes everywhere but the front door, still taking deep breaths as you try to just focus on your surroundings, taking note of the nice front garden and walkway as you pass.

You finally settle on the front porch, your arms dropping the bucket and preparing yourself for the big push to start this job.

One ring, you remind yourself. Then wait. Deep breath.

You look up to find the door bell, hand pulling up in a search for the button when you see him.

He must have heard you, you decide as he stands behind the screen door with his arms crossed.

Simon Riley is massive, standing what feels like a clean foot taller than you, big muscled arms bulging from his tight t-shirt. They're as big as your head, his thighs probably twice so. His face was pulled down in a heated gaze, though the bottom half of his face was covered by a black mask. He was scary as he stood there, his aura menacing and doing nothing to sooth your nerves.

Yeah, ex Military makes sense, Jesus christ.

"Ya pissed of my dog, allat noise." You jump, the deep british voice startling you as he begins chastising you. His face frowns down it you, his eyes angry. You're speachless, "Well? Talk."

You stammer as you realize you were just sitting and staring in awe, mind suddenly back on track and then derailing again as you have no idea what to say.

The routine, Jesus christ the routine what's the next step. You scramble for your binder, pulling it open to his work order page and looking up at him as you muster up the courage to speak.

"Um, are you, uh, Simon Riley, sir?" You ask, stuttering and staggering between every word.

He reaches foreword and opens the screen door, getting a good look at you first before he can respond.

"Hm. You the cleaning lady?" He questions, the hand not holding the door open now stuffed in the pocket of his pants.

"Mhm, yeah, im- uh. I'm from Housekeeping Heros, you have an appointment for, um-" you start rustling through more pages of the binder, desperate to find the information, needing to prove to yourself more then him you were in the right place.

"I know i 've an appointment," He holds out his hand and halts your movements. You relax, all the horrible conclusions you were drawing coming to an end. Though, as per usual, they were quickly replaced with new ones, his voice still short and snippy with you.

Deep breaths, girl, we can do this.

He points to your small pile of equipment. "Ya need 'elp?"

You shake your head no, suprised he'd offered. Though he just responds with a head shake, motioning to give it here with his hands. And you do, you don't even second guess it, handing him your bucket and backpack without a second word, something in you submitting to him without a care in the world.

He turns around and walks everything into the kitchen where he gently rests it on the table, softer then you were expecting. You follow him in, feeling like a stray with your legs tucked between your legs as you fet settled. He looks at you expectantly.

Not sure what he's looking for, you start explaining the cleaning process, using your binder as a reference and pointing to each section. He stands behind you, arms crossed again and chin tucked down as he nods along with your words.

He points to the vacuum on your back, "Not round Riley, ya 'ear me?" He scolds. You take note of the large German Shepard snorring lightly on the couch.

"And none o' this shite," He kicks at your knee pads, pointing to a mop he had in the corner. Thank God, cleaning on your knees always sucked, and why your bullshit company made you do it anyways was a marvel.

"Oh, thank you!" You chirped up. He seemed to scowl further when your voice pitched up, so you slink back in on yourself. Understood, point taken, sir.

You still were not feeling great, the pit in your stomach unrelenting as you organize your stuff.

He looms close by. You figured he would, not doubting the "extremely strict" next to "ex military" on your work order at all.

You start with the first step of your process, filling the bucket up in the sink and soaking your towels in the cleaning solution.

"Where's yer boss?" He grumbles from behind you, making you jump.

"Um, Nancy?" Bucket now full, you throw the towels into the warm water with a dash of solution.

"Eh, whatever her name is," He grumbles. How polite.

"Haha, um." You giggle akwardly, "she's with family right now, I think," you stutter, trying to speak loud enough that he could hear you clearly.

He just hmphs in response. As your towels soak in the water, you reach for your extendable feather duster and start wiping the top corners of the room.

"Whats yer name?" He grumbles. It shocks you when he says it. He couldn't seem to care less about the other workers name, but he was interested in yours?

You told him, quiet, "sir," peeping out after. He just hmms again, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed as he watched you work.

It was nerve-wracking, having him over your shoulder. He hadn't said anything yet, but it felt like you could feel the complaints waiting to come. You just kept up the deep breathing, taking the clothes out of the water and dispersing them on the countertops throughout the house.

He had a very large home, no mcmansion that took up half the street, but a pretty place tucked in a nice down town area. Honestly, if the home and neighborhood wasn't so gorgeous, you probably would've turned around and told your supervisor to give the damn house to someone else.

But thankfully, or not, Simon seemed to harbor a certain comfort for his homes presentation. The indoors of his home reflected it as well, the house put together like it was being staged, every inch perfectly in place.

Maybe that's why it's not so surprising when the first complaint does manage to leave his lips in the form of a hiss as you go to open a cabinet door.

"Oi, what do you think yer doing?" He hisses, rushing over to grab your wrist and pull it from the knob. You gasp as he's suddenly in your space and touching you, flinching as he does.

"Um, I just gotta m-make sure the insides don't need to be wiped down, sir," your muscles shake as you speak— him actually coming over and grabbing had you a little shook up.

He waved his hand infront of your face, dismissing whatever you have to say, "None of that. Don't need'a open nothing that ain't yours." you just nod, taking your first breath once he's finally out of your space.

That would've been a very good thing to include in the work order, Nancy.

Well, at least that's a few less things to worry about cleaning, though you may have failed your task of not shitting your pants, because good lord. He's right back to his perch on the wall, observing you carefully now.

You get into your routine, floating room to room and doing each task per the work order. You slowly scrub the slight musky smoke smell that lingers throughout, instead replacing it with the smell of cinnamon and detergent.

He likes watching you work, but he knows he doesn't show it, not a flutter or twitch anywhere to be seen. He growls small, careful, watch it, leave it, keeping you on edge through every movement.

You do move much faster than your college though, much more gracefully. He notices your wandering eyes, lingering on the photos on the wall and the dates on his calender. He let's you get away with it, for now. Figured he'd picked on you enough, should probably just let you finish your work.

That is, until you approach the end of your routine. You'd been scrubbing and whipping and Simon snipping and snyding for almost an hour now, you'd made excellent time and you hope Simon knows that.

It's all you can think about, actually. Him and the way he has you doting on him, some broken part of you combined with the fear his giant stature instills has you easily folding to do whatever he says and respond to his every grunt. It has your mind a little clouded, even more so as you swing through every step of your routine with practiced care.

It was finally time for the last step of the routine, and you shivered out a breath as you unwrapped the vacuum. Simon had sank a little further away, now sitting at the kitchen table with his eyes glued to a newspaper, anxiety settling slightly without his prying eyes.

You get the cord untangled and laid out across the carpet, searching the perimeter of the room for an outlet. You couldn't see any in the open, and not wanting to risk pissing off Simon for moving furniture, you start to round the corner in your search.

Suddenly, you're against the wall, a giant hand against your sternum as the breath is knocked out of your lungs. His face is in yours, eyebrows furrowed and breath hot on your face as he spoke.

"Tha fuck ya think your doin'?" youre confused and breathless, small under him as he leers above.

"I dont- im-" "Been nothing but nice to ya since you clambered yer way up my damn porch, and I gave you one fuckin' rule." His voiced is raised at you now, chastising you in that brazen, gravely tone. "One! and what do you go and try to do?"

You're just confused, what had you done to elicit this response from him? You thought he was complacent and quiet at the table, what of his million little rules could you have broken?

That's when you see it. Her, you should say. Rylie, the big German Shepard he'd warned you to by no means vacuum around, was bundled up on the couch, inches from where you stand.

Fuck. how had you forgotten.

"Sir, i- I didn't realize, I didn't know she was there sir i-" You desperately try to make an excuse for yourself, but he's just shaking his head at you.

"Do ya think flutterin yer eyelashes a little is gonna make everything better?" He mocks you, his big blue eyes locked on you. You shake your head no, half of it to answer him, the other half just you shivering where you stand.

"No sir- I'm sorry sir I didnt- I forgot you told me and-"

He's clicking his tongue at you, a tsk tsk to put you to shame. To your suprise, each click when straight to your core, and suddenly the heat in the room is rising. Your body is flushed and your sure your face matches, if the way his eyes crinkle when he looks up at you says anything.

His hand doesn't leave your sternum, as he speaks, Inches from your face, "too good at this to be forgetting," he shakes his head, the praise a little shocking, and the soft, "too pretty," that follows it hammers the fact.

You breath is caught in your chest again as he leans into your ear, eyes wide and mouth clamped as he murmurs a deep.

"So how do you think I should go bout making sure you remember?"

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Okay, so, the ask about yandere platonic dick cheating and how the reader would react has me wondering; what would happen if the reader somehow found out that Dick didn't actually change and decided to go no contact, because they couldn't trust him or maybe because they just don't want to be around someone like that? Would that cause Dick to spiral more? What exactly would be the consequences of going no contact? (Like a complete cut off, although it'd be a bit hard to do that since they live in the same house)

(I was a bit disappointed to read that he probably wouldn't change, but it seemed realistic to me because habits are hard to break and everyone in the batfam is messed up. Although, I imagine after years of therapy or something similar there might be some sort of change. But, I doubt anyone in the batfam is getting therapy... except maybe reader)

Sorry yeah, i don't like to think Dick is actually a cheater or this shitty. I just like to humor different scenarios i get requested. But you cannot deny that this man is a messy whore. THIS IS THE FACE OF EVILLL

context

Look, cheaters are so sloppy. Even the ones who put the most effort into it are always bound to slip up. I imagine batsis isn't a fool. Like Richard...no way did you just go from being a serial cheater to suddenly being completely cleansed. You're an addict baby boy.

Like i said at first he's actually wanting to get clean for his baby sis and to be a good role model. I think it'd be very obvious to you that he's actually trying. He's irritable and really struggling to cope with the fact he has to put the phone down. You can see him obsessively checking his phone for what you'd assume to be a message or notification from one of his hookups. You can tell he's torn up about loosing his partners because he came clean about his unethical practices....

There's no hiding. This is such a deep seeded issue and it is really taking a toll on him. This is something like you said will need YEARS of therapy to fix.

So now Dick is trying to bullshit you a few days later...right in front of your salad! He's just sooo happy and he's proud about this new leaf turned????? Yesterday he looked like he was about to breakdown in tears because he'd been abstinent for just 48 hrs...and now he's glowing???

Dick, your patrol ended at 2 am last night...you came home at 6 am...please don't play with me rn.

not me getting heated. lol

He doesn't explicitly tell you he's back to his old ways. He's willing to keep lying his way into keeping you and this habit but it's undeniable. You know that his gf only forgave him because he lied to her too. It makes you sick when you saw the text of him telling her that he's busy with family and then left out for the rest of the day to go be with someone else.

Maybe you explode on him about it? Last time you were as nice as you could be about it but you cannot deal with the games anymore.

I liked to think in this scenario you're yelling at him and he's just still gas-lighting you, He throws every card to make you feel bad for accusing him. It absolute drives you mad. He's just so calm while you're are trying not to strangle him.

"Baby bat, i love you. I think you're just tired and are imagining things. You're convincing yourself that i'm still the old Dick because you're hurting...i understand and I forgive you. Maybe we should set up therapy sessions to help you let go of the past? Hmm?"

"YOU MOTHER FU-"

Ugh but i love him he's so fucked

The irony of him suggesting you therapy when he's the one riddles with mommy issues and the most insane coping mechanisms...

Dick isn't going to allow you to go no contact. You cannot go no contact with someone you live in the same house with. You are bound to interact and when you are dealing with someone like dick...it just won't work. The bat kids are extremely resilient and are well versed in making someone crack. You wouldn't be the exception.

More realistically you'd probably just be cold towards Dick. That's the best you can do. Not really responding to him and basically stone walling...

But i imagine this version of Dick to be much more forceful. He's done with your self righteousness. How dare you suggest moving out. That isn't an option because he needs to see his baby sister everyday. You are breaking up the family over this. You cannot cut him off because he's flawed...it's not that serious y/n. None of the other siblings are breathing down his neck. Maybe if you weren't so frustrating..he could actually become a better person. You are the one that is preventing him from being better with all your pressure!!

You packed your bags and are fully ready to walk out of this family for good because there's just too many wrong doings swept under the rug and here comes dick who is FUMING... He's trying to rip your bags out of your hands and grab you up..

You are not doing this to him. Stop being so-

Maybe your siblings step in and help you to leave. They help Dick calm down because they respect that it's your choice to live how you'd life.

Dick isn't stopping once you're gone. Especially if you're still in Gotham. There's a shadow that follows you where you go. Tons of messages and calls from unknown numbers. Even scarily enough..a blue toy bird left at your door with a small note that read

"Missed me, my little birdie? We'll be seeing each other again soon."

[seoulmatez]

୨♡୧ SWEET NOTHINGS — aftercare with the hq boys.

featuring. miya osamu, suna rintaro, ushijima wakatoshi, sakusa kiyoomi

warnings. f!reader, no explicit smut (still, mdni), food (not used sexually), implied creampie, bathing together, tons of after-sex intimacy. all characters written 18+.

₊˚ପ⊹ MIYA OSAMU

osamu is a firm believer that the best thing one can do for their body after any strenuous activity, including sex, is to replenish it with food before allowing it to rest. he feeds you often but something feels different about doing the same thing only after sex. it makes for a much more intimate scene, he thinks, being able to share food with his lover after being so vulnerable with each other. it’s yet another way of showing his love for you.

• • •

“what’s on today’s menu?” you ask, sitting up as osamu returns from his quick venture to the kitchen. from behind his back, he reveals the carton of strawberries the two of you picked out from the market this morning. he gently shakes the container, “these sound good?”

you nod enthusiastically, waving him over to join you in bed. his feet carry him to the mattress and he plops down next to you with a comfortable sigh. you watch patiently as he pops open the plastic, fingers hovering above the fruit in search of the best of the batch. he picks the prettiest one he can find and holds the berry out to you, the palm of his other hand facing up beneath the first to serve as a sort of plate. “say ‘ah,’” he opens his mouth, hoping you’ll do the same.

a smile breaks out across your face before you follow his lead and open your mouth to take a bite. you hum as your cheeks tingle and the tartness of the fruit explodes on your tongue. osamu chuckles at your innocent reaction. it takes a moment before he becomes aware of the red-tinted juice dripping down his fingers. he pops them into his mouth before the trail of liquid can travel any farther, smiling around them as you happily bounce up and down on the bed.

₊˚ପ⊹ SUNA RINTARO

he’s never been one to take anything in life too seriously, but you’re one of the few exceptions to his carefree and jovial approach to living. sex with suna is rarely demanding but always passionate. even though he isn’t a particularly rough lover, rintaro acknowledges that you deserve some tending to after making love. in an attempt to keep the mood light, he keeps up his silly antics even while he’s taking care of you.

• • •

“nice game, mvp,” suna quips as he hands you the cold bottle of water he just grabbed from the fridge. a cheeky grin pulls at his lips upon seeing the way your eyebrows furrow while you take a swig of the beverage. you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before sarcastically responding, “your lame charm never fails to make me swoon.”

“you love it,” he argues, taking a seat on the edge of bed the beside you. you turn to him to find a pair of dull yellow eyes already staring back at you. suna smiles before leaning forward to cup your cheek and slot his lips against yours. the kiss is soft and slow, a perfect culmination to an exhausting night. despite his inability to take most things seriously, moments like these are all you need to know that, deep down, suna really cares about you. he pulls away with another of his signature smiles, his thumb and index finger pinching your cheek. “ready to hit the showers?”

you scoff, playfully slapping his hand away. “i can’t believe i let you have sex with me.”

₊˚ପ⊹ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

his touch is gentle and tender; it drastically differs from how he was handling you only moments ago. even though the two versions of wakatoshi are stark contrasts of each other, you’re more than familiar with the soft side of him that emerges after the both of you are worn out and sticky with each other’s cum. words of praise accompany every calculated stroke of the damp, warm washcloth he uses to clean you up.

• • •

“i wasn’t too rough, was i?” ushijima asks as he makes his way back to where you lie, returning from grabbing a few things from the bathroom. he settles on the mattress beside you with a couple of damped towels. dark olive eyes fall on you and you shake your head to gesture that you’re fine.

he nods, taking one of the folded cloths to pat away the sweat from your forehead. nimble fingers brush away any stray strands of hair sticking to your face and you lean into the warmth of his touch. a small smile graces his lips upon seeing how content you are. as much as he’d love to spend the rest of the night with you in his arms, he has to finish getting you cleaned up.

reluctantly, wakatoshi pulls his hand away and reaches for another clean rag. he uses this one to carefully wipe any of the sticky release off of your thighs. you twitch at the contact, still sensitive from your previous activities. he’s told you many times before, but ushijima will never tire saying it. “you did so well, pretty girl.”

₊˚ପ⊹ SAKUSA KIYOOMI

the first thing he does as soon as you both finish is ask how you’re feeling; if you’re alright. as pleasurable as sex is, it can be just as fatiguing. no matter your answer, sakusa’s routine rarely strays; there’s always a warm bath with essential oils waiting for you on nights when the two of you end up naked and tangled in each other’s arms. his ultimate goal is to help you wind down and assure that you’re comfortable.

• • •

“feeling okay?” sakusa’s voice, albeit fairly quiet, startles you. the soft rumble you feel transfer from his chest to your back is somehow simultaneously surprising and comforting. it wasn’t difficult to begin to drift off in the tub filled with warm, bubbly water, the scent of lavender wafting throughout the steamy air.

you hum in satisfaction, letting your eyelids flutter closed once more. you won’t fall asleep this time. “better than okay.”

kiyoomi can hear the exhaustion lingering in your voice. he can feel you melting into it under the pads of his fingers as he massages the supple skin of your thighs. he finished washing you up a few minutes ago but you looked so tranquil that he couldn’t find it in him to move you. you’ll have to get out soon if you don’t want your skin to grow pruney, but sakusa decides to warrant you and himself a little longer in your peaceful bubble.

strong arms pull you closer into his chest, sending a ripple throughout the water. he rests his chin on your shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the pulse on your throat. you giggle, wet hand breaking the surface to cradle the side of his face. “perfect,” you whisper.

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

[minswriting]

SPENCER REID NSFW ALPHABET

A = Aftercare

spencer is so good at aftercare!! after any session, he’s holding you, giving you kisses, or you’re doing that to him. he’ll see if you need anything while giving you the softest of smiles. he just loves you! and wants you to be taken care of!

B = Body Part

spencer’s favorite body part on himself are his hands and fingers. he loves to finger you, making you cum with nothing more than just his hands. however, on you, he loves your waist. he likes to grip it during sex or to just pull you to him by your waist while you’re walking down the street together.

C = Cum

when spencer cums, he cums a lot. and it has everything to do with the fact that he doesn’t have a lot of time to jerk off. so he really only ever has release when he’s with you. he will literally paint your whole entire body with his cum and then use it as lube to fuck you.

D = Dirty Secret

spencer is a switch (it’s not the secret) and would love for you to tie him up and blindfold him while you’re riding his cock. it’s the idea of being at your mercy every once in a while that really gets him going. but being who he is, he’s just too shy to mention it.

E = Experience

i don’t think spencer has a lot of experience at all. but due to his intelligence level, he’s a fast learner and loses his virginity with the knowledge of already knowing how to make you cum. once the two of you are comfortable with one another, it’s literally the best sex ever.

F = Favorite Position

spencer’s favorite positions definitely are missionary, riding, and one where you’re on your stomach lying down and his front is pressed against your back while he’s fucking you. it’s just so sensual and deep and just feels oh so good.

G = Goofy

depending on the mood, i think spencer can be a bit goofy. but it’s not like being funny. it’s just things to lighten the mood like a little giggle here and there or a comment about how beautiful you look while he has the softest smile on his face.

H = Hair

spencer most certainly had a happy trail and is actually very well groomed down there. he likes to maintain it simply because he likes to look clean. on you, however, he doesn’t care. so even if you have a bush, he’s eating you out like a starved man.

I = Intimacy

he’s very intimate when you guys have time to take your time. he’s maintaining eye contact with you, holding you close to him while he’s fucking you or you’re riding him, and regardless, he’s telling you how much he loves you and how beautiful you are. intimacy is like the norm for him when it comes to sex.

J = Jack Off

it’s very rare for spencer to jerk off but when he does it’s when he’s in the shower and he’s pumping his cock hard and fast in order to get some sort of release. this usually happens when he’s on long cases and he’s unable to stop thinking about you and your cunt.

K = Kink

okay so he’s got quite a few. when he’s feeling more subby, he’s lowkey got a mommy kink. but when he’s in his dominant mood, he wants you to call him sir. i feel like spencer is also very huge in body worship. he’s got a huge praise kink (giving and receiving) and a huge degradation kink (giving and receiving). also lowkey he’s into somnophilia.

L = Location

he prefers to have sex in the comfort of your bedrooms. however, you guys have definitely fucked in the restroom at the bureau. and at a few bars. and in the car. and in the kitchen. and in the living room. honestly you guys have fucked in every room in your apartments.

M = Motivation

you. just simply you. he’ll take one glance at you while you’re working on something and he would start imagining you on your knees in front of him. or him on his knees eating you out while you’re doing your work. he just wants you wholeheartedly.

N = No

this definitely stems from the trauma of his profession but anything that hurts you or is a risk to your life in any way, shape, or form is a big no for him. he can do choking but not enough for you to actually lose your breath.

O = Oral

HE LOVES IT!! spencer is such a munch. he will eat you out for ours and make you cum at least twice on his tongue before he does anything else. he is also big on receiving it too. 69 all the way baby 😏😏

P = Pace

definitely depends on the mood. when he’s stressed and just needs release, you guys are fucking hard and fast. but if you both just want to feel close to one another, you guys are fucking slowly and sensually, clinging to one another for dear life.

Q = Quickie

loves them. especially early in the morning right before he has to get ready for work. you wake him up by riding his cock and he’s whining beneath you. god it’s his favorite thing. he also loves bending you over the counter and taking you from behind.

R = Risk

spencer likes to think he’s modest and would not take any risks. but he’s lowkey an exhibitionist and gets off on the idea of being caught at some point. so he’ll fuck you in places like the bathroom or fitting rooms.

S = Stamina

depends on the day but usually he has enough stamina to do two rounds. when he’s exhausted though, he can only do one.

T = Toys

loves them! especially when he’s away, he wants to call you while you’re fucking yourself with a dildo, imagining his cock inside of you. he absolutely adores using vibrators on you to tease the hell out of you too.

U = Unfair

dom spence can be so unfair. he loves to overstimulate you and do orgasm denial. but he also loves it when you do the same to him. deny his orgasm until he can’t help but cum without your permission. or overstimulate him until he’s got nothing left.

V = Volume

he’s very vocal. he’s a whiner, a whimperer, a moaner, a groaner. he’ll praise you, talk dirty to you, talk you through it. and he loves it when you reciprocate it. he’s not afraid to make noise with you.

W = Wild Card

spencer loves getting pegged.

X = X-Ray

i think spencer is just above average. he’s about seven or eight inches but his cock is skinny, not girthy. especially due to his thin and lean build. but he knows what to do with it. and regardless, you’ll be cumming on his cock.

Y = Yearning

i think he’s someone with a high sex drive but with immense self control. he wants you 24/7. but he knows to control himself because sex isn’t as big of a priority as is making sure you’re both happy and thriving.

Z = ZZZ

depends on the day but spencer will always do aftercare before falling asleep. so i would say he would fall asleep at least a half an hour after sex.