#i have a more thought out post i was writing on this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trashytracktales · 3 days ago

Note

Hey! Please do a lando x ex!reader. They break up after a lot of arguments due to being away from each other so much and then they meet a few months later and hook up. Like angst in the beginning then lots of smut.

If it's meant to fall apart | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── I was actually planning to write something similar for so long. Thank you for the request and I hope you like it 🤍

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𐙚 summary ──── Surprisingly, months apart haven’t dulled the connection between them. After a night of passion and honesty on both sides, maybe there is a future where they can make all the right decisions, after all.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x ex!reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, lots of angst & back-and-forth, fluff & smut, teasing, praising, explicit language, unprotected sex, mention of alcohol and drinking, swearing, not the healthiest relationship I've ever written tbh (the toxicity is implicit tho), overstimulation, pussy-drunk Lando, Max F. & Ethan aka FEEFA cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 10.6k (Thank you to everyone who voted on this poll I posted the other day, I didn’t expect to see so many 🥺).

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 27, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Guys, look. I know it's A LOT 🥴 I kinda let myself run with this one because I haven't posted anything in like a week or so. I still have 2 requests I'm working on, so don't give up on me yet 🤞🏻

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SHE'S NOT ENTIRELY sure how long they’ve been dancing, but she hasn't finished her drink yet. Time feels like an illusion, blurring the edges of her vision with every new rhythm of the night. For the first time in months, she feels a little lighter, her friends’ energy pulling her out of her own head — and apartment, where she locked herself in after the break-up.

The club is packed tonight, bodies pressed together in a sea of drunken, sweaty chaos. Neon lights bounce off every surface, painting the room in vivid purples, blues, and pinks. It's not usually her style — not anymore — but she figured it won't hurt to let lose for a couple of hours.

It’s only when she steps away from the dance floor, her feet hurting and her head buzzing, that she spots him.

Why tonight, of all nights?

Why here, of all places?

Why him, of all people?

He’s leaning casually against the bar, a glass in hand, chatting with a few familiar faces. Faces that she can't help but miss.

She stopped talking to Max — well, Max stopped talking to her after ending things with Lando, too upset that she toyed with his best friend's heart for ‘no apparent reason’. Their friendship dissolved under pressure, fragile as a cheap plastic cup in the grip of sulfuric acid. But Max wasn't the only one who took it personally. That's why she needed to cut ties with everyone from her past. She needed new friends — her own friends —, she needed a new place and new clothes, and to rebrand herself from scratch. Which she did.

She thought she had made it through, but the past has its twisted ways of coming back when you least expect it.

Now, the sight of him, so vivid and real, makes her chest tighten.

She stops in place, hoping he doesn’t notice her, but then his eyes flick in her direction and, for a brief moment, neither of them blinks, the noise around them fading into a dull murmur.

He straightens slightly, his relaxed posture gone as his brows knit together. There’s something unreadable in his body language — surprise? Excitement? Confusion? Pain? She doesn’t know, but it mirrors the knot twisting in her stomach.

Her friends call out to her, pulling her attention briefly, and when she looks back, he’s still staring. Except now, he’s moving, weaving his way through the crowd toward her.

Oh, hell no.

Her heart starts to race, a mix of adrenaline and something far more complicated than fear, as she rushes to walk away; she's fought for far too long, and now her instinct is to fly as soon as she senses danger.

Unfortunately, she's not quick enough.

“Hey,” says Lando when he gets closer, his voice low but audible over the music.

Hearing him gives her goosebumps, hating the way her body is betraying her. It’s been months since she’s heard his voice, but it still hits her the same way: sharp and unrelenting.

She turns around, forcing a smile, “Hi, Lando,” she manages, her voice steadier than she feels, thinking she should try acting if she makes it out alive from this encounter.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his tone careful, yet extremely suggestive.

It makes her stomach twist again.

He used that line the very first night they met, his boyish grin lit by the dim, flickering lights of another club, in another city. Potentially another life, she's not sure. She remembers the way he had leaned in, so full of confidence and asked the same exact question with a mischievous glint in his eye.

It feels too deliberate now, too heavy with the weight of their past for her to ignore.

“All set,” she finally says, her voice quieter than she intended, as she raises her half-full glass in her hand. ��Thanks.”

For a moment, it feels like they’re strangers meeting for the first time. Except they’re not, and their history is hanging heavily in the air between them.

Lando nods, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “How about this, let me join you for that drink?”

She takes a look to where her friends are dancing, then she turns back to him, “I'm here with my friends.”

It's a pathetic excuse, she knows that. But she has no time to think of something else. Not when her brain is suddenly all scrambled and can't form a single coherent thought.

Lando frowns, disappointed, but not willing to give up that easy. “Come on, just a quick catch-up and then you can go back to your friends. Mine won't mind,” he shrugs, pointing at the bar, where the others are following their every move like a bunch of curious minions.

She catches Max lifting his glass in her direction, and Ethan, waving frantically.

Against her better judgment, she nods.

“Okay,” she murmurs, “Let's catch up,” she spits the words, sounding a bit too sarcastic. Still, it makes Lando smile.

His shoulders relax slightly, relief softening the tension in his body. He gestures toward a quieter corner of the club, away from the pounding bass and the sea of bodies. His first instinct was to take her hand in his, but since that's over the line, Lando keeps looking back, making sure she follows him. And she does. Like a naive, lost puppy that hasn't learned a single thing in the past five months, apparently.

The crowd surges around them, chaotic and loud, and before she can react, someone stumbles into her, their elbow catching her arm. As a result, she's thrown off balance, her feet slipping on the slick floor. Gasping, she's bracing for the inevitable fall that… never comes.

Lando’s hand shoots out, catching her waist and pulling her upright. His grip is firm, grounding, and suddenly she’s pressed against him, her chest brushing his.

“Careful,” says Lando, his lips close enough to her ear for the voice to cut through the noise.

The spot where he's touching her is burning her skin. She looks up, speaking with a hesitant smile, “Thanks, I'm good.”

The club around them fades away, and all she can feel is the warmth of his hand on her waist and the familiar scent of his cologne — a smell she used to know so well. It is almost intoxicating, and it makes her mouth water. She realizes that's what she was missing the most.

Lando smiles faintly, his hand slipping away as if he’s reluctant to let go. “Always got you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that, sensing the double meaning behind his affirmation. So, she nods and lets him guide her the rest of the way.

They find a small, semi-private booth near the exit, far enough from the main dance floor that the music dulls to a manageable volume. He gestures for her to sit first, then slides in across from her.

She fiddles with the edge of her glass, feeling his eyes on her.

“So,” she starts, leaning back against the booth, “You're here.”

Here, as in back home.

“For a week or so, yeah. Got a bit of a break between Brazil and Vegas.”

She nods, emptying the rest of her drink in one go, “How’ve you been?”

Lando shrugs slowly, “Alright. Busy with work and everything,” he trails off, his gaze dropping to her lips for a brief moment. “It’s not the same,” he continues, his smile fading away. “What about you, what have you been up to?”

She needs superhuman powers to stop herself from scoffing in his pretty face. It’s such a simple question, yet it feels loaded, heavy with all the things they haven’t said to each other in almost half a year.

“It's been… peaceful. I moved to another neighborhood. Kept busy, distracted.”

Lando hums, his expression unreadable for some reason. “Yeah, I get that. You look great, by the way,” he states it as a fact, his voice soft but unwavering.

She hesitates, then looks up at him, really looks at him. His face is the same and yet… not really. The boyishness is still there, but there’s a weariness in his eyes that's somehow new. Plus some facial hair she always begged him to try out. It tugs at something inside her, something she’s not sure she’s ready to face. Because it hurts. Because it annoys her. Because, after everything, she's still not over it.

“Cheers,” she replies, hoping he won't catch the blush in her cheeks. “I kind of hoped you would look like shit when I saw you again,” she admits. “You know, I'm talking no front teeth and severely balding. But, oh well. You too.”

Lando's smile widens, making everything infinitely worse for her.

He wears a black shirt that clings to his frame in a way that highlights the muscles in his arms. His black cap is pulled low, worn backwards in that signature way he always did, giving him that effortlessly cool vibe. His eyes are still the same, though. Dark, piercing, the same ones that could make her heart beat faster even after everything that’s happened.

“I thought about you a lot over these months, you know,” Lando finds himself saying, chewing on his lower lip.

She shoots him a surprised look.

As if, she thinks. His Instagram feed would say otherwise.

“You did?” she ends up asking, curiosity getting the best of her.

A hint of vulnerability creeps into his voice, “Of course. I've missed you.”

She laughs dryly, “But it's been good for us, right? We just established we both look great, no constant fighting, no slamming doors, no smashed phones…” she says, looking at him intently.

He can't sustain that for long, so he looks down at his shoes, slightly ashamed, remembering how bad it used to get when the distance between them felt too much to handle. He remembers the frustration, and the helplessness he felt when he couldn’t reach her, because he couldn’t make things right. He did smash his phone once, in a fit of anger, because he couldn’t get ahold of her for hours — not his proudest moment, that's for sure.

Lando swallows hard, “Yeah, it has been nice to have some distance. I guess it makes the heart grow fonder, right?”

“Hmm,” she hums, letting her eyes travel across the room, scanning random faces and wondering how life would be if she were someone else, “I don't know about that.”

She knows, in fact. But the words pause in her throat, too tangled up in memories. When he finally looks up, she's holding his gaze for just a beat longer than she should, and she wonders if he can feel it too — that familiar pull, like gravity, drawing them back together once again.

“I know—” Lando begins, not sure from which angle to approach. “I know it was the right choice at the time, but I can't help but wonder what things could have been if I'd fought harder for you.”

“Come on, Lando,” she laughs, unamused, giving her head a shake, “We would've ended up in another vicious circle, no matter what. It's always like that with us, isn't it?”

A part of him knows she's right. Still, “We'll never know.”

“Well, maybe it's better that way,” she manages, her voice lacking conviction.

“Or maybe it’s not,” he contradicts her, his words carrying a weight that presses on both of them. “You never think about us?”

Another sharp, dry laugh — it's either this, or she'll start crying. “I am actively trying not to,” she admits, her tone tinged with exasperation. “What’s the point, Lan? Thinking about what could’ve been won’t change what happened. You were always gone, and I couldn't spend my life following you around like a headless chicken. We had a good time, but it was never going to last,” she says the last part mostly as a reminder for herself. “Not in those circumstances.”

His jaw tightens. “You think it was easy for me? That it didn’t tear me up knowing I couldn’t be there for you the way you wanted me to?”

“I didn't say that,” her eyes snap to his, “We simply weren't working. We were too good at breaking each other.”

Lando leans back in his chair, frustration visible on his face. He hates that she's right, but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest.

His jaw clenches, “I just… I don’t want to believe that’s all we were. Breaking each other.”

Her expression softens a little at his words, “Not all. But enough to make us miserable.”

For a while, the air between them feels heavier, the noise fading into the background. He wants to say something, anything, to counter her point, but all he can do is look at her and ask himself if they were, indeed, playing a losing game back then.

“Did you meet someone?” his question flies out of nowhere.

Lando looks at her with anticipation, sensing the hesitation.

“I did,” she replies, nodding slowly.

“And?”

She meets his eyes for a split second before looking away again, fixing her gaze somewhere on the table. “And we're happily married with twins on the way. What do you think? I just. Couldn’t.”

Lando's stomach drops, trying his best to remain calm, his hands clenching into fists. “You couldn’t what? Be with them?”

She shakes her head, her movements slow and deliberate, as if choosing her words carefully. “It was too soon.”

Her answer only leaves him with more questions. “So, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know what it means,” she rushes to say, her tone tinged with irritation. It’s clear she’s as unsure as he is, but that only makes it harder for Lando to process her reaction.

He runs a hand over his face, his exasperation bubbling to the surface. “I’m just trying to understand,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Because I've also tried.”

She looks directly at him now, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And?” she challenges in the same manner, her tone carrying just a hint of defiance.

“They weren't you,” says Lando, the truth of his statement hanging between them like a heavy anchor.

They remain silent after that.

She wants to ask him why — why he still cares, and why it hurts so much to be in the same space again after all they’ve been through. Nothing comes out, though; she already has the answer to that. They didn't break up because they stopped loving each other. They had both been too caught up in their own worlds to find any kind of balance. That broke them up.

He wants her to speak. He needs to hear her speak. To react. But when she says nothing in return, there is a brief second when he feels like giving up for good; he can't do anything if she's already made a decision. He knows how stubborn she is.

Lando nods to himself while getting up and start walking toward the exit, his thoughts all over the place.

The night air greets them with a quiet, cooling embrace as they step out of the club. Of course she follows, and she hates herself for that. But she can't help it — it's instinct. Like a magnetic force he's always had over her.

On the other hand, it's how they always communicated, through gestures and actions rather than words.

The soft click of her heels against the pavement gives Lando hope. He slows down so she can catch up, and then they walk side by side, without talking. The background noise of the city keeps them company, and by the time she decides to break the silence, he stops abruptly.

His voice sounds so small now, like a child asking his parents why can't he eat his chocolate bar before dinner.

“I know it feels so silly looking back,” says Lando, as though afraid to shatter the superficial peace between them. “We did so many things wrong, but I think we also did a lot of things right.”

She hesitates, her eyes dropping to the ground where a patch of light from a distant street light catches the edge of her shoe. Her arms fold tightly across her chest, while trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Yeah, breaking up was one of the right things,” she says thoughtfully, though her voice has a trace of bitterness behind it. “Before that, we tried so hard to make it work that we ended up burning each other alive.”

It's crazy how simple words can cause physical pain so quickly.

“Yet we're still here,” he reminds her. “Knowing what we know now, maybe we wouldn’t burn so fast this time. And isn’t it worth it, even if it only lasts for a little while? We were so happy at the start.”

That’s what he clings to. The laughter, the stolen moments, the way they fit together so effortlessly — she can’t argue with that. Their beginning was a beautiful dream, but it’s the nightmare that followed that keeps her guarded now, even though all she wants is to crack his ribcage open and slip inside him so they will never be apart again.

Her voice shakes as she tries her best to make him see her side, the memories spilling out like water breaking through a dam. “I had to put myself back together, Lando. Piece by piece. And I was all alone.” She forces herself to meet his gaze, finally, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Turns out, our friends were actually your friends, and I had to go through the worst breakup of my life with no one by my side. I had to move, I had to build an entire life from pretty much nothing. And I had to do everything alone, because I didn’t just lose you. I lost everything the moment I made you the center of my universe.”

Her words knock the air out of his lungs, guilt clawing at his insides. “Look, I know I should have been there,” says Lando, his voice barely steady. “Fuck me. I wasn’t supposed to let you go in the first place, alright? I should’ve been a better boyfriend, and I should’ve fought harder to make it work, using what we had then. But you did fuck with my head, and I thought being away would help.”

The first tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away hastily, as if she could erase the vulnerability altogether.

“It did help,” she agrees. “I know I can live without it now.”

Lando freezes for a split second, then stepping dangerously closer to her. “So, you’ll be fine if we stay broken up?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

She nods, but it’s shaky. And when she takes a step back, trying to put distance between them, Lando decides he gave her enough space. Fuck that. He's not thinking anymore, not with his brain, at least. He closes the distance again, his hands finding her waist and pulling her close in one swift motion.

It’s impulsive, desperate even. But he doesn’t care. The moment he feels her presence in his personal space, the fire he’s tried to smother for months, roars back to life, more powerful than ever. And just like that, everything it's right again. The way her body fits against his, the familiarity of it all, makes his heart race in his chest.

“Stop being so fucking stubborn, baby,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice cracking under the weight of his own desperation. “Why can’t we at least try, hm? You told me it was too soon for someone else. Maybe it’s because it’s supposed to be me.”

Her breath catches at the sudden closeness, at the rawness of his voice. She's unsure of what to do with her hands, until they hover awkwardly by his shoulders.

“You're not fair,” she whispers, her voice slightly trembling. “You can’t just accidentally waltz back into my life and say things like that.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about being fair,” he says, his voice firm. “I just want us back. Simple as that.”

Her tears blur the edges of Lando's face when she tries to push him away, but his grip won't let her. Not this time.

“It's not that simple, and you know it,” she says. “We’ll only end up hurting each other again.”

“Then we hurt, so what?” he counters, his voice soft but sure. “At least we’ll know we tried until there wasn't anything worth fighting for. I'm not done with you, baby. Are you?”

Her hands finally move, trembling as they brush against his cheeks. They're not as soft as they use to be, his little facial hair scratching slightly at the pads of her fingers. The connection sends a jolt through them both as her touch lingers, trailing up to his hair. She pulls at his cap with both hands, placing it on her own head with a weak smile.

“It’s longer than you used to wear it,” she notices, her tears catching the street lights.

Lando’s heart clenches, managing to shoot a small smile in return, “I thought maybe I’d try growing it out. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she admits as she tries to messily style his hair with her fingers. “It suits you.”

For a little while, they’re trapped in their own bubble. Her touch feels like home, and all Lando can think of is that he can't lose it again.

“I’m not asking you to decide now,” he finally says, his thumbs tracing soft circles on her waist. “I just need to know I’m not the only one still holding on.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they're stumbling into her apartment. She knows it's reckless, and she's basically throwing away five months of progress, but it wasn't going to last, anyway.

Addictions are very hard to keep under control, especially when they have curly, dark hair and give you bed eyes.

“This way,” she says, her lips swollen from kissing all the way to her door.

Lando doesn’t have time to adjust, his head already spinning with hundreds of scenarios that fly tirelessly through his mind. However, the only thing that captivates him at the moment is her, and the way her fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans. She tugs him closer, her lips crashing onto his once again, their breaths blending in a frantic exchange of need and uncertainty.

He watches her fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, her movements clumsy but determined. His heart reaches his throat, swallowing hard, as his hands move from her waist to his belt, blindly unbuckling it before tossing it carelessly aside. The sound of leather hitting the floor barely registers over the erratic, overlapping rhythm of them kissing.

Then, he sees it. The spark in her eyes she used to have when she looked at him — it catches him off guard, giving him hope. He follows her as she moves slowly, her back toward the bed, her movements precise, like a cat's. She lies down, propping herself up on her elbows, while he takes cautious steps closer, his shirt hanging open to reveal his chest and toned abs.

But just as he leans forward, her high heel presses lightly against his chest, stopping him.

Lando freezes, his hands bracing on either side of her foot, tracing his palm up and down her leg, as his eyes dart up to meet hers.

“You can look,” she says, catching a glimpse of confusion in his eyes. “But for now, no touching.”

He frowns, clenching his jaw at her request. It would make sense for her to bring him to her place only to torture him, but she can't be that heartless. Right? The sight of her, stretched out on the bed with her foot holding him at bay, is almost too much to handle already.

“You're not fair,” he mutters under his breath, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I don't give a flying fuck about being fair,” she repeats his words from earlier, her foot staying firm against his chest.

The power is in her hands, and she's planning on using them properly tonight.

“No touching,” she repeats, determined.

Lando's hands fall at his sides.

Slowly, she slides her foot down, letting it drag across his chest, making a quick stop on his lower abdomen before settling on the bed. Her gaze locks onto his, a daring glint in her eyes as she spreads her legs, revealing the black lace panties. The dress she's wearing lifts up her thighs of its own accord, leaving Lando chocking on air for a brief moment. His lips part as she trails her fingers down her own body, teasing herself the way she’s done countless nights before.

Nights when he wasn’t there.

Nights when she was alone, chasing a high only his touch could give her.

“Wanna see how I got through five months without you?” she asks, her hands traveling way down, hooking her fingers to pull at the soft material.

His breath hitches, the sight of her undressing before him so painfully slowly making his chest ache with longing and guilt.

“I thought of you,” she continues, letting a small whimper out when the soft lace peels off with a little resistance from her already soaked pussy. “Your hands, your mouth… the way you sound when you're turned on,” she discards the panties at the foot of the bed, her breath catching in her throat as she glances at him through her lashes. “Such a delicious combination between your sleepy voice and that low octave you hit when you're drunk.”

Lando’s mouth goes dry, his hands twitching at his sides, itching to lean over and collect the material off the floor to stuff it into his pocket as a souvenir. He’s never felt so powerless and yet so utterly consumed by someone before.

“Will you let me?” she asks, her lips curving into a smile that’s equally wicked and vulnerable, “Show you?”

Her name leaves Lando’s lips in a protest while he takes an instinctive step forward, but she stops him with her foot once again. It’s a punishment, and he knows it. She’s showing him exactly what he missed, and exactly how she wanted him for so long.

Lando's breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling as he watches her. Helpless. His every nerve is tuned to her, eyes following how her fingers slide so easily between her folds, spreading the wetness as she teases her hole. Of course she’s taking her time with it, only to make sure he registers every tiny detail, just in case he forgot.

Her head tilts to the side with a quiet gasp when she pushes slowly inside. The sound of her wet entrance is enough to make his knees weak, still, his body turns to stone.

On the other hand, his heart is a mess of pride and frustration — pride that she still feels comfortable to be this vulnerable and open in front of him, frustration that he has to see her like this, untouchable. That's why he's not even blinking, too afraid he'll miss a thing.

She starts to gently rock her hips against the bed, fucking her fingers in and out, her body trembling as her whimpers fill the room. It's too much for Lando, but luckily, she didn't say anything about moving. His legs finally give out, and he falls to his knees, the sound of his breath ragged and uneven as he gets closer to her.

Yes, she's in charge — for now, at least — but he can't stop his words slipping out. Quiet, yet demanding.

“Slower,” he says, fixing his eyes on the way her fingers slide over her clit. “Don't rush it, please. I want to see all of you.”

Her gaze meets his, and for a moment, neither of them says anything else. She sees the vulnerability etched into his features, the way his body betrays him, shaking with restraint, completely at her mercy.

He looks like a man unmoored, defeated. So beautiful.

“Lando…” she breaths heavily, her back arching against her own hand, that flattered slightly at his words, a blush creeping up her neck and cheeks.

She hates how much he still affects her, obeying him without questioning his ways. Like no time has passed whatsoever.

When they make eye contact again, it's like they silently agree to go with it; whatever tonight will bring.

“That's is,” says Lando with satisfaction as she resumes her movements. “You gorgeous little thing. So beautiful when you listen, yeah?”

She nods, feeling him leaning forward just slightly, close enough that she can feel his warmth on her skin, without him touching her in any way. The air feels electric, her breath stuttering as she keeps fucking up her fingers under Lando's careful guidance. He watches every motion, his jaw tightening, ignoring the ache in his boxers the moment she finds her sweet spot, crying at how good it feels. She tries to muffle the moan, but Lando catches the hesitation, his eyes narrowing in her direction.

“No, let me hear you. Please, let me hear you,” he implores, exhaling sharply. “God, you're perfect. I could watch you forever.”

Lando can't help but notice how receptive she becomes at his words, her body tightening at the way he's praising her. As a result, she presses her fingers harder onto her clit, feeling the pressure building inside.

“Mhm, Lan…”

“I'm with you, baby. Keep going,” he encourages her, his gaze fixating on the slickness dripping between her legs. “Fucking hell. You're already so close, aren't you?”

It's like every word gets caught in her throat, and the only way she can reply to him is with a pathetic, desperate whimper.

In hindsight, she's never came from her fingers so quickly before, but the wave that’s hitting her from every direction right now is too intense to process right away.

It happens too fast, and the next thing she's aware of is Lando's voice, bringing her back.

“Please,” she hears him beg, managing to give him a slight nod of her head in return.

In that moment, the lights go out. Even so, Lando wants to be patient, as his index finger lightly brushes against her warmth. She exhales, giving up control, her gaze locked on him as if he is the only one that ever knew her. Meticulous, Lando traces his long, rough finger through her wetness, causing a shock to run through her whole body as it moves up and down her clit.

She thought she already crossed her limit, but then he leans down to press his mouth on her — deliberately, unapologetically, thirsty.

Lando lets out a deep, guttural groan that reverberates against her, causing her hips to twitch slightly. His tongue is wet and warm on her pulsating clit, leaving her breathless while he tastes her like it's the last time.

“My sweet, sweet baby,” he whispers, his voice intimate and personal, the words enveloping her in layers and layers of honey.

Feeling his warm breath on her center causes a surge of tension within her, making her walls tighten as his tongue explores within. He can't help but smile just as she leans into him, her body responding naturally, and he grips her thighs, closing the remaining gap between them. At that, she instantly buries her fingers in his curls, her hips mimicking his head movements.

“Oh, fuck,” she exhales abruptly.

The rest is pure bliss — his tongue licking in deep strokes, his muffled moans between her thighs, and the way he can’t seem to let go of her, gripping her tightly because he’s been deprived of her taste for so long.

Just for a brief second, Lando raises his head and, as his gaze remains fixed on her eyes, his mouth sucks gently at her clit. She's never seen him so desperate before, the sight of him owning her like that covering her entire body in chills.

Gradually, his kisses become way too powerful, which forces her to quickly grab his messy curls and pull him closer, unable to control herself anymore.

Without any warning, she screams his name as her climax hits her like a tidal wave for the second time in a row.

His growling makes her thighs quiver in his grasp, the vibrations intensifying her pleasure as her body convulses with each new sensation, while Lando’s tongue continues licking her during every heartbeat and shiver.

Next time she looks at him, his lips shine, his cheeks are red, and his gaze so intense that it causes her heart to skip a beat, creating a connection that seems more profound than any physical sensation she's just experienced.

He didn’t try to give her the best she’s ever had, but attempt to remind her how well he knows her body — to show her she still belongs to him.

“You’re so pretty,” says Lando, keeping his eyes on her, while he presses one finger back inside her cunt to test how thight she is after her second orgasm.

“Lando,” she spits his name at the unexpected touch, still too sensitive, “What… are you doing?” she gasps softly, a mixture between a sigh and a moan, when Lando's finger pulls out and glides across her wet, delicate clit once again.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Lando murmurs against her thigh, his voice low and reverent.

He grins in her direction, while his thumb circles her clit with precise intention, like a wheel gripping the perfect racing line. Sure of himself, Lando continues his movements, realizing how overstimulated she is, as he gets up to hover above her. Her hips buck instinctively into his hand, a jolt of reaction she can’t control.

Seeing Lando on top makes her react on instinct, wrapping one arm around his neck, while the other hand travels down his chest. The heat pooling in her stomach rises fast, an apex she didn’t expect to reach so soon. It’s intoxicating, her body spiraling as her mind blanks out the world beyond him.

“Lan—” she gasps, her back arching as if trying to escape, though every fiber of her betrays that she wants more.

“Come on, baby,” he says, increasing the pace. “You can give me one more. You're doing so well, I know you can,” his voice is a blend of dominance and desire, while his fingers press into her, knowing exactly where to go and how to bend, “Like that, see? So easy for me to read you. I could fuck my fingers into your pretty hole all night long and you'd still come for me every single time, wouldn't you, baby?”

Shaking, she clings to his neck, crying out his name in spasms. He loops his free arm around her, gently kissing her cheek — a gesture so tender and innocent that makes her heart grow ten times in size.

She grips his shoulder with one hand, her eyes closing in pleasure. “I can’t—” she chokes, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths.

In an attempt to get her power back, she tries to push at his wrist, but his arm steadies her, determined.

“Of course you can, love,” says Lando, his voice a gentle command, the firmness in his tone like a driver refusing to lift his foot off the pedal, curious to see how far he can take it.

Her hand clenches around his arm as his thumb presses against her clit with ruthless precision. She reacts on instinct, muscles coiling tight as she bucks against his hand, not sure what controls her body anymore, since her brain got disconnected long ago. The slik rhythm of Lando's fingers becomes too much, and she knows she's close when he starts curling them inside at the perfect angle.

“La— Fuck, baby, that feels so good,” her voice is a high-pitched cry now, laced with desperation. “I’m going—”

“I know, baby. So pretty. Look at you, making such a mess for me,” he urges, leaning in to kiss her neck.

Her body tightens as pleasure explodes within her, blinding and all-consumming — a full-throttle sensation, unrelenting in its intensity. She sobs his name as liquid warmth spills from her pussy, coating Lando’s fingers. He doesn’t stop there, though, his hand continuing its pace, coaxing every last wave of her climax as his arm holds her securely against him.

“God, I've missed you.”

When her breathing slows down, he falls down on top of her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Her legs shake slightly, and her fingers curl weakly into his bare chest as he cradles her close.

Lando presses a tender kiss against her temple, his voice filling the quiet. “It wasn’t acciedntal,” he confesses.

She blinks rapidly, tilting her head to look at him, confused, “What?”

“Earlier,” Lando clarifies, “You said I was accidentally waltzing back into your life — it wasn’t accidental,” he repeats.

“What do you mean?”

Lando places a few more kisses on the heated skin of her neck, sucking in a couple of bruises, the gesture meant to buy himself more time for the storm raging in his head to stop.

“Lando,” she pulls him out of it.

“Been trying to figure out how to do this for a while. I just… couldn’t stay away from you anymore,” he admits, looking up at her, his eyes pleading. “I had Max playing detective while I was away.”

She pushes him off her to sit up on the bed, pulling at the edges of her dress. “Seriously, what?” her tone is not defensive — at least not yet — but there’s a sharpness to it that cuts into him.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes to explain, “Look, I didn’t stalk you or anything. Nor Max,” he continues, getting up to stand next to her. “I didn’t even know where you lived until you brought me here. I swear.”

She wraps her arms around her own body, needing something to ground herself, “What did you do, Lando?” the girl asks, her voice quieter now.

He swallows, “I just asked him to check in on you. To see if you were okay.”

“And how did he do that?”

“He saw you tagged in a pic on this girl's account, and then did some research on the people you were with, paid some dudes to find out if their records were clean—” he starts chuckling when her fist hits his shoulder, playfully, but still with intent.

“Don’t be a dick,” she warns, her smile giving away the fact that she’s still amused by his immature sense of humor.

“I just… didn’t want to simply appear out of nowhere if you were happy. If you’d moved on,” Lando continues, his tone more serious now. “But when he told me you seemed like you hadn’t, I couldn’t keep pretending like I was fine. I'm really not.”

His honesty was always a breath of fresh air, but now it's suffocating. Hearing him admitting he's not okay, implying that she's the reason why, is simply heartbreaking.

Her arms drop slowly to her sides, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed, “Why now, Lando? And why not text or call?”

He scoffs, “Can you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you would have picked up if I called? Especially given how we left things?”

She cups Lando’s chin in the palm of her hand, forcing him to look at her, “I'll always pick up if it's you.”

The admission makes his chest tighten.

Lando shakes his head, “I promise I’ve tried,” he says, “God, I’ve fucking tried. I threw myself into everything, and nothing worked. Racing, training, sim sessions, going out with the guys — no matter what I did, I was constantly thinking of you. Every night out felt wrong because I wasn’t coming home to you. And I know home is such a vague word for me, because I’m mostly away, but you made every single place feel like home, and that's why it didn't matter where I was at the time. I just needed… need you in ways I can't nor want to explain.”

His confession makes her head spin. The breakup had been difficult for her, but she hadn’t considered how Lando had handled the past five months. All along, she had assumed he wouldn’t miss her — that his life, always on the road and consumed by his own pursuits, was too busy to notice the absence of one small, insignificant detail: her.

She's now realizing how wrong she had been to think that way.

“So…?” she finally asks. “Do you think a few orgasms later can mend what was broken five months ago?”

“What? No, of course not,” he says firmly, leaning forward, his elbows digging into his thighs. “I swear, all I wanted to do tonight was talking to you. I didn’t plan on getting to this point, but I can’t say I’m mad about it,” says Lando, taking her hand in his, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “You still want me,” she shoots Lando a rapid look, studying his face, “Just like I want you. I see it, I feel it. Baby, I know it.”

Her heart pounds in her chest, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her defenses like a hot knife through butter. She wants to be angry, to accuse him of being selfish, but the truth is, she isn’t. Maybe it’s foolish to believe him, but one thing Lando never did was lie to her. He did worse, yes, but he never lied.

“Lando...” she starts, but her voice trails off, wishing her head would stop spinning so she could think.

“I know I hurt you,” he continues, his voice softer now, “You hurt me. We hurt each other. But we're too good together not to find a way to make it work.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her mind racing with memories of their past — the good, especially the bad, and everything else in between. Her fingers toy with the fabric of her dress, her eyes flickering between his face and the floor. The room is heavy with silence and, just for a moment, she lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find each other again.

Otherwise, if it's meant to fall apart, then let it happen with them gasping for air, tangled together, connected in every way imaginable.

THE MORNING SUN filters shyly through the curtains, soft and golden, spilling across the bed where Lando stirs awake. He’s all alone, the sheets around him rumpled from where she had slept. He blinks up at the ceiling, a little disoriented. Then, he hears the faint sound of running water and realizes she’s in the shower. It makes him feel like everything went back to normal, but he can't be sure of what's going to happen next. He can only speculate and hope, but nothing more than that.

The quiet is interrupted by the persistent buzz of his phone on the nightstand. He reaches for it, still groggy from sleep, scrolling through a handful of texts from last night — banter in the group chat, some Instagram notifications, a few missed calls; nothing too important to catch his eye. He places the phone back on the smooth surface carelessly, and his hand knocks over something solid in the process.

Frowning, he sits up to put it back in its place, and that’s when he sees it — a framed picture of them, taken during a rare quiet weekend in Monaco over a year ago, right at the beginning of their relationship. She looked so happy back then, caught mid-laugh as Lando was gazing at her with an expression so tender that it makes his chest ache now. The weight of the memory hits him harder than he expects, pulling him fully awake.

The sound of the bathroom door opening makes him turn, and he puts the frame back quickly. However, it's enough for her to catch his sudden movement, her eyes flicking to the photo and back to him.

Her cheeks flush a deep pink. “I meant to put that away,” she rushes to say, pulling the towel tighter around her body like it might shield her from the embarrassment.

“Carlos took this one,” his voice is soft, as his eyes shift back to the frame. He picks it up again, turning it in his hands. “You asked me why didn't I call, but… why didn't you call?”

She laughs dryly, crossing the space to take the frame from his and and placing it face down on the nightstand. She sits down next to him, shrugging.

“And tell you what, Lando? That I couldn’t stop thinking about you even though you broke my heart?” she asks, shaking her head, the embarrassment turning into something closer to frustration. “It’s just a stupid picture, anyway. We barely knew each other when it was taken.”

“It’s not stupid,” he contradicts her vehemently. His hand reaches out tentatively, brushing against her soft forearm. “It's nice to know I wasn’t completely crazy for hoping you felt the same.”

Her lips part like she wants to say something, but no words come out. The towel slips slightly, and she clutches it tighter, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his hungry eyes.

“Lando…”

“Leave it there, yeah?” he says, pointing at the picture. “Facing your side of the bed, preferably.”

Seeing her suddenly deep in thought, Lando grabs her wrist and gently pulls her onto his lap, his thumb lightly brushing against her silky skin.

She looks at him, her emotions warring on her face. “If it makes me look less pathetic, it was face down most of the time.”

Lando laughs, his hands finding her waist, then her hips, steadying her on his lap, “I love you,” he says it casually, but it still freezing the blood in her veins.

Her fingers fly towards his mouth to cover his lips, “Don't,” she warns.

“You know I do. I was serious last night. You don't have to decide anything right now, but I'm not going anywhere. It sucks we needed to hurt for a while, we're both at fault, but I never stopped loving you,” he repeats.

“You're so unfair.”

“Don't care, say it back,” he teases, digging his fingers into her skin to tickle her sides.

She starts giggling, “Don't you dare.”

His grin widens, “Or what?” he asks playfully as her hands fly to his, trying to fend him off.

“Lando, I'm serious. Stop it,” her laughter blends with his while he leans in closer, his lips brushing her ear.

“I need to hear it, baby. Please. Just say it back.”

“It back,” she chuckles, feeling his fingers tickling her so mercilessly that tears form in her eyes. Their laughter bubbles over, loud and uninhibited, until she collapses against him. “Okay, fine. Fine,” her breathy voice stops him in place, catching his attention. “I love you, Lando.”

A simple confession; he asked for it. But none of them expected it to hang that heavily between them. It's not a lie — not in the slightest — and Lando knows it.

“Enough to give us a second chance?” he asks.

Her breath catches at the sudden shift in his tone, and before she can reply, his thumb traces her cheek gently.

“I'm so scared,” she admits, leaning into his touch.

Lando sighs, understanding too well where she's coming from, “I know, baby. But I'm even more afraid of losing us again. Losing this…”

His hand slides down her chest, tracing the curve of her breasts. With a gentle movement, he tugs at the corner of her towel, letting it drip smoothly down her body. Patiently, he runs his hands down her waist, moving back up to her chest as they leave goosebumps in their wake. Hungry, his hands rest on her breasts, squeezing them lightly until he feels her nipples in his palms, and she drops her head on his shoulder, whimpering softly.

Memories of last night make her body shudder, feeling the heat between her legs intensifying. Following his lead, her fingers start tugging at the waistband of his boxers, until they slip low on his hips.

Lando moves one hand around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. He groans against her mouth, his breath hot and ragged, before breaking their connection long enough to kick the boxers aside.

Skin on skin, their bodies align like two puzzle pieces.

She hovers over him, his hands on either side of her, “I wanna take care of you,” he speaks softly, closing his eyes when her forehead rests against his. “Please, let me take care of you.”

There’s a vulnerability in his tone that twists something deep inside her. She's just learned how to be independent again. She can't throw all of it away. She can't let herself slip.

She can't.

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her.

Her answer is all that Lando needs to hear. His lips crash back onto hers as he swaps their positions, lowering her onto the bed, his body pressing against hers, warm and solid. And so very real. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word feels like a promise, a vow that he won’t let her slip through his fingers again.

And then, Lando takes control — not the type of dominance he's used to when he steers his car. It's more like devotion; his hands map her body all over again, like a driver learning every twist and turn of a new circuit, his lips following the trail his fingers blaze.

She arches into his touch, responding to him in ways she thought she’d forgotten.

But the body remembers.

And the remembering is, oh, so good.

Last night was just the warm-up, she reckons — an act meant to remind both of them how well they fit together. Lando was gentle, kind, and patient. But now, she sees the shift in him.

His eyes are darker, filled with lust, his touch greedier. She can't help but smile when she realizes that the Lando she knows all too well — the one who’s needy, insatiable, and unrelenting in his desire for her — is still there, and so ready to show off.

Her skin tingles in anticipation as she watches him, knowing exactly what he wants. And for once, she wants it just as much. Maybe even more, considering how her body is acting independently from her brain.

She wants him to give her everything, to burn through her until she’s left gasping and wet and ruined, and she’s ready to meet his hunger with her own.

But before that, “We're not done talking,” she tells him, breathing heavily against his mouth.

“Yeah, we'll talk. Stay with me and we'll talk all you want, baby.”

She wants to protest, but her air gets knocked out of her lungs and her fingernails sink into his shoulders when Lando nudges the head of his cock up and down her slit to collect the wetness. With a gentle kiss on her jaw, she closes her eyes, tracing her fingers down his arms as he pushes inside.

They both exhale, relieved that they're back where they belong.

Talking can wait.

Lando's hands grip her waist just as he pulls out, only to push back in, all the way to the hilt in one slow, but hard thrust. The feeling is almost too much for her, which is ridiculous since he just started moving. But she feels so full, and the sounds he lets out only make her open up for him even more.

“Wait, wait,” she can barely recognize her own voice, stopping Lando when their hips touch together.

She can't explain it, but she needs it.

“What's wrong?”

She looks down between their bodies, confusing Lando even more. “I…,” she begins, but she's not sure how she's supposed to voice her need.

“It's okay, you can tell me,” he assures her, bringing his hand to cup her face in his palm, tracing his thumb over her cheek.

“I—need a second to feel you,” she explains, pushing his hand away only to trace her palms over her face.

Lando chuckles, “Baby, don't hide from me. You're driving me fucking mad when you're blushing.”

“I'm not blushing,” she contradicts him, raising her hips against his, her walls hugging him tighter with every move.

“No?” whispers Lando roughly as if he lost his voice. “God, you're perfect. So good, so fucking sweet and perfect around me, baby.”

Her legs tighten around his waist, keeping him inside, while one hand moves to his lower back to push him against her even more. There is no physical space left between them, but she still wants more. It only makes Lando's cock throb inside her pussy, giving her a few more seconds to adjust to his length before he pulls all the way out and slides back, searching for the perfect pace.

“Fuck, Lando,” she whines, burying her fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots.

“Yes, I know,” agrees Lando, his eyes flicking over her face. His insides tighten at the sight of her parting her lips in pleasure, her breathing hot and irregular. “You're so beautiful from this angle.”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off, which makes Lando chuckle again.

“Why would I?” he asks, leaning closer to her ear, while thrusting a couple more times before pausing. “You look like a fucking goddess taking my cock so well.”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the sound of his voice, low and raspy, rocking her hips to find that sweet friction against her walls again.

“Keep,” she whines, “Keep going, then. Let me have it.”

Lando presses his lips on hers at the same time he resumes his movements, his hands roaming all over her body.

“You can have my cock, baby,” he groans into her hair. “All yours.”

She nods, wrapping her fingers around his biceps, “Yeah?”

“Promise you,” says Lando.

After that, he picks up pace, both falling into an agonizing rhythm. All this time, she had thought that familiarity might dull the edge of being with Lando, that knowing his moves would make it predictable and boring, maybe even ordinary.

Somehow, it’s the exact opposite.

It’s because she knows him, and he knows her so well, that every touch feels ecstatic, every kiss charged with meaning. He doesn’t need to guess what she likes; he already knows how to unravel her, how to leave her trembling and breathless. And she knows exactly what will make his breath hitch, how to draw out that low, desperate groan that ignites her own fire.

In a way, every time feels like the first, but it's always much better, because they know how to make each other fall apart like no one else can.

“Please,” she gasps, breathing wetly in his shoulder. “Harder.”

One thing about Lando, he's always been good at listening. Without thinking twice, he tightens his grip on her hips, fucking his cock inside her harder and faster than before. In an instant, her ears are blessed with the way his moans sound.

“God, I've missed fucking my pretty girl like this,” says Lando, his hands moving on her thighs to spread her more so he can slide in faster. “It's never like this, baby, fuck.”

Being with Lando is chaos, the kind of beautiful, consuming chaos that leaves everything around them in shambles. They are loud and messy, and everything is sweaty and wet and sticky. He kisses her like he’s starving, touches her like he’s desperate to memorize every inch of her skin, and she matches his fervor, meeting him with the same wild energy that pulls them under. Together.

“Lando,” she spits his name out of her mouth in short spasms. “Lando, Lan… Lando.”

It's almost like a cry for help, but she doesn't need saving. Not when he's fucking her so good, slamming against her over and over again, until the outside world fades away and all she remembers is his name.

“Lando,” she whimpers again.

“Keep me in, love. Like that,” she can barely hear him over the sound of skin slapping on skin. “Fuck. You're taking me so well, I won't stop fucking you, baby. I won't—”

She sucks in a breath of air, her body buzzing with pleasure. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she can feel how hot and sweaty his chest is. She moves with him for a couple more thrusts before she lets go, the sound of Lando fucking in and out of her while she comes so obscene that it makes her eyes roll.

“I'll never get tired of seeing you coming like that,” says Lando, pinning her to the bed, his cock feeling so fucking good inside of her that it makes him see stars. “So fucking hot, baby.”

Her nails scratch the skin of his back as her pussy clenches around his length, forcing another hiss out of Lando's mouth.

“Don't stop,” she manages to say, even though she feels her throat raw.

“Ah, look at you, now. Being so good for me,” says Lando with a smirk, tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Letting me fuck you when you're sore and spent. And so wet, baby, you're dripping all around my cock. Fucking hell.”

Lando's jaw clenches, a visible battle playing out in his face as his breath hitches. She feels him moving deeper, hitting the sweet spot inside her, sending ripples of pleasure through her body with every thrust.

“Yes—fuck. Don't stop,” she repeats.

His eyes widen as he tries to hold on for as long as he can, but it's hard when he flashes his eyes in her direction and catches her already looking. It doesn't take long for him to realize there's a replica to her first orgasm. He nods, without saying anything else, bringing his hand up to her neck. She places hers on top of his, not to push it away, but to let it rest there as a sign that it's fine to claim her if that's what Lando needs.

And that's enough for him to lose it.

“Baby,” he breaths out, fucking her slopply, any sense of order dissolving under the weight of their eye contact.

She arches into him, her fingers trembling as they rise to cup his face.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she demands, her voice a desperate need.

She pictured that face thousands of times in the past months, but nothing compares to this. Lando groans at the command, his hooded gaze staying on hers. The intensity of his expression nearly undoes her again — his pupils blown wide, lips parted as he lets out s string of cuss words.

“That's it, pretty boy,” she whispers, her thumb brushing over his cheek as he moves inside her, his pace faltering for just a moment before he snaps back into thay sloppy rhythm, chasing his release. “Want to see you when you let go.”

She barely finishes her sentence when his orgasm crashes over him like a tsunami; no one would be able to even tell where she begins and where he ends.

Lando looks so beautiful and wrecked, and she drinks in every second of his surrender.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

When his features soften, she sees how vulnerable he is, and it leaves her breathless.

Satisfied and content, her fingers still trace his face, wanting to remember the exact way he looks in this moment, when he is completely hers.

Unable to support his weight, Lando collapses on top of her, feeling his body as light as a feather, which is so far from the truth. But she doesn't mind; she loves the feeling, actually. She loves the heaviness, and the way he keeps his cock tucked deep inside her, wet and softening slowly, not allowing his cum to leak out of her.

Descending back down from their high, the only sounds in the room are their slowing breaths and the soft rustle of the sheets. It's hard not to notice the weight of reality when it begins to creep in around the edges.

She lies beneath him, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his back, but her mind is miles away.

“When are you leaving?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tenses for a moment, then shifts to lie beside her, propping his head on his hand to look at her. The vulnerability in her eyes twists something deep inside him.

She swallows hard, suddenly flooded by all the reasons they had fought, all the late nights filled with misunderstandings and misaligned priorities. She remembers all the reasons why they broke up, and thinking how bad of an idea this has been. Because, how can she let go of him again, without feeling like she'll be losing both her head and heart in the process.

“On Tuesday,” says Lando softly. “But not how you think.”

Her brow furrows in confusion as she turns to face him. “What do you mean?”

Lando leans over, his hand caressing her cheek as he gathers his thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking about us for months. Since you left, actually,” he begins, his voice low and deliberate. “I had a lot of time, and I managed to figure out why it didn’t work before, why I couldn’t give you what you deserved. So… I’ve talked to the team.”

She almost stops breathing, her eyes widening in his direction while she waits for him to continue. Months ago, she would've die to have this conversation, and now that it happens, she doesn't know how to behave.

“I'm working on a schedule. To have more time for us,” Lando explains.

Her heart skips a beat. “You’d do that?”

“For us,” he repeats, his voice firm. “I can’t keep pretending I’m okay without you. I don't want to be okay without you, it's stupid. And I don’t want to keep coming back here, hoping for a second chance, only to mess it up again. I want to get it right this time.”

She stares at him, not knowing what to do with that information. This is not the Lando she knows. The recklessness and impulsivity got replaced by caution and planning the steps ahead. It's new, and exciting, and it makes her tear up.

“And what if it still doesn’t work?” she asks, her voice small.

He leans closer, his forehead touching hers. “It will.”

His tone is so definitive that she can't say anything else, letting the silence stretch between them as she searches Lando's face for any sign of hesitation.

There’s none.

“How... did you actually know where to find me last night?”

Lando smirks, studying her face with half-closed eyes, bringing his hand to her jaw. “That friend of yours posted on her story. Honestly, I didn’t know you were going to be there. But I hoped.”

She shakes her head, scoffing, “Stalker behavior.”

Lando shrugs nonchallantly, “I just happened to be nearby,” he chuckles.

“Lucky me,” she says, tracing the contour of his nose with her finger, stopping on his jaw.

“Lucky us,” he corrects, pulling her in for another kiss.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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xx-reverie-xx · 1 day ago

Note

Hihi!! I just read your Sevika HCs and I absolutely love them!! I wanted to know if you could (please) write HCs for Sevika and Vi after an argument with their partner? :) Whether it’s an argument the reader started or they started can be completely up to you! Or you could even do both scenarios if you prefer! 💕

Thank you and I hope you have a nice day/evening 💖

🖤Sevika and Vi after an Argument🖤

men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni

🤎Sevika🤎

I don’t think arguments would be common in a relationship with Sevika.

When she locks into a serious relationship, she means serious. She covers all the important bases for a healthy relationship; communication, loyalty, respect, trust, and so much more.

Covering these bases, especially communication, helps to avoid frequent arguments.

It won’t completely cut out the occasional argument though.

When you two do argue, it’s almost always about bigger things. For example, her working so much and not taking much time for herself, or maybe her drinking and smoking.

Post-argument time usually has as “how can we avoid this in the future” moment where you guys have a heart to heart about whatever started the argument.

If you start an argument:

Be prepared to apologize first. And only apologize if you’re really sorry.

You should always finish what you start, after all.

Your apology may be met with an affectionate an eye roll and a huff.

She never stays mad at you for long.

Once you apologize she usually makes space for you wherever she’s sitting and wraps her arm around just to let you know it’s really okay.

If you’re just apologizing because you feel like you need to, don’t. She can see right through you if you’re bullshitting her.

If you’re stubborn like her, sometimes apologizing can genuinely be difficult. She gets that. Which is why her patience with you is a blessing.

Again, when you’re ready to apologize , she’s affectionate and accepts it.

If she starts an argument:

This woman is stubborn. For her to apologize, it just doesn’t feel right.

She’s only ever been truly sorry a few times in her life. In the Undercity, living a life like hers, she never had time to be sorry.

Being sorry gets you hurt. It gets you killed.

But…

It’s obviously different when it’s you. You aren’t a big bad wolf waiting around the corner. You’re her partner, her ride-or-die.

In the heat of the moment, what she said felt right. It felt like something you needed to hear.

The thought of you feeling hurt by something she said just eats her alive.

She comes to you first.

It isn’t anything crazy, usually just a simple, gruff “I’m sorry.”

She’s awkward and stiff about it, but completely genuine.

Asks what she can do to make it up to you, if anything.

❤️Vi❤️

Violet runs hot. She isn’t a loose cannon but someday’s it can be hard trying to keep all of her emotions under wraps.

This has definitely lead to arguments over petty things like dishes in the sink or eating the last of her favorite snack.

It’s also lead to arguments about very serious things. Her pit fighting, drinking, and her occasional impulsivity.

Arguments always hit her hard, even the petty ones. No matter how old she gets, arguments always make her feel like a little kid, just waiting for the ball to drop. The ball being losing you.

That feeling of dread, like this argument could be the last, if that makes sense.

Physical touch is usually present in the make up process after an argument. It helps ground her.

The good news is, the two of you always make up very quickly.

If you start an argument:

If the argument is a petty spat about dishes or snacks, she still apologizes first, albeit rather begrudgingly.

This links back to her feeling like this argument could be the last. What if she never hears “You promised you’d take out the trash this week” ever again?

You, however, shut that down. “It’s my fault, I should be the one apologizing.” You tell her.

These arguments are extremely easy to come back from because you two are always on the same level. Two halves to make a whole, equals

There isn’t a point in staying hung up on petty nonsense for long.

If you start a big argument, you apologize first.

She distances herself and you have to go to her.

You’ll usually find her someplace where she shouldn’t be, like a bar. Or, you might find her someplace safe, like with Loris or another friend she feels comfortable around.

Not only should you apologize, but it would also be a good chance to thoroughly explain why you’re upset or might think something is a bad idea.

Once you do that, she’ll open her arms up to you and usually things can be resolved somewhat easily after that.

If she starts an argument:

Again, she apologizes first.

If she starts an argument, big or small, the dread of possibly losing you over this hits her like bricks.

For smaller arguments, she approaches you casually. If you let her, she’ll wrap her arms around you. An apology hug, if you will.

Says, “I’m sorry, baby,” in the softest voice she can muster.

These smaller arguments are always easier to come back from just because she’s so sweet. How can you ever stay upset when she’s such a sweetie?

Big arguments are something else though.

After she’s said whatever it is that she’s said, the weight of it all is suffocating.

If she said something really stupid and hurtful in the heat of the moment, she might need some space for a bit. Things like that take her back to that day.

But she’ll come to you when she’s ready.

May or may not have a little gift for you for extra measure. Usually it’s something simple like your favorite candy bar.

She tells you she’s sorry and explains why she got so worked up. Usually this leads to a steady and warm embrace and you let her know it’s okay.

hello!!! thank you for the request ♥️ please let me know if you enjoyed it or not. i had so much fun writing these. i kind of got carried away with vi’s headcanons 🙈. . i was purposefully vague about what started the argument so you can sort of imagine your own scenario for why the argument started!🎠

ask box is open for multiple fandoms and nearly every arcane character! check my pinned for rules, fandoms, and characters. i write headcanons, reactions, drabbles, and more!

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 2 days ago

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BEG!

Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, nocurse!au, misogynistic!gojo, college!au, reader puts him in his place, CRACK do not take this fic seriously, enemies to lovers, suggestive, mdni

Synopsis: Satoru is a stupid alpha bro who’s misogynistic and a play boy in a fraternity at your college. He learns that he can’t walk all over you, and that turns him on.

An: Thank you to everyone who commented on that post and encouraged me to write this! I didn’t think you guys would eat it up like you did 😅 I thought this would be a smutty one-off, but I actually wanted to try and make it into something a little more meaningful; hence why it took a bit longer to post. This is only part one :)

The party. |

His house screamed wealth and overconsumption at every corner. Money was obviously frivolously spent with building and furnishing the Gojo fraternity house. It was sleek, modern, but still a devastating bachelor’s pad.

The Gojo fraternity held parties every day of the weekend, including Sunday. Women got in for free, and men had to pay 5 dollars to get in. Not that Satoru needed the money — he was disgustingly wealthy and a trust fund baby. He merely charged guys money that way no one below his standard could just waltz into his frat house.

Of course, he truly believed every other man in the frat house was below him in some way. He had the full package: smart, funny, rich, handsome, a dick that should be registered as a legal weapon.

It was no wonder that women was never an issue for him. He found flirting with them to be like child’s play. It’s just too fucking easy…. pun intended. He and Suguru once had a challenge to see who could pick up the most women in a single night. Satoru ended his night after fucking 9 women in a single night, and one of those events was actually a foursome between him and three girls at once.

Honestly, he could be so much worse. With a witty personality and a mouth that just won’t shut up, he could talk his way into or out of anything.

It’s a Sunday night, which usually isn’t a big turn out for the party at his house since everyone has class the next morning. Plus, all homework is due at 11:59pm on Sundays. But this turn out was just embarrassing, there was merely 10 people all sat in his living room.

Suguru already had a girl in his lap. Everyone was giggling about something. Satoru felt like he had a chip on his shoulder, he wasn’t the center of attention right now, so he had to fix that.

Plus, there was a pretty girl in the room who he wanted to impress.

Sitting down in front of you, Satoru grins and hands you a cup undoubtedly of liquor. “Here you go, sweetness. Have one more.” He encourages, knowing that it’d be easier to chat you up if you’re a little buzzed.

“Oh, thanks.” You smile politely, and you fake taking a drink out of it. You’ve heard the stories about Satoru, and there’s just no way in hell you’re drinking something he gives you.

“What are you all talking about?” Satoru asks with a casual grin, and he takes a sip of his own drink.

“Oh, just how dumb Andrew Tate is.” A nobody responds from within the group.

“What? He’s not dumb…” Satoru nearly pouts as his favorite starboy was being harshly criticized by his friends.

“Oh god, don’t tell me you like him.” You say with disgusted look on your face as you eye Satoru. Now, you’re definitely not drinking whatever he just gave you.

Satoru’s face twists in defense as you so boldly speak up about his interests. It’s clear to you that he’s offended, but he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it.

“Why? What do you think is so bad about him?” He retorts as he cocks an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat to try to appear as confident and collected as possible.

“How about how he treats women like shit?” You ask, raising your own eyebrow. Satoru has another thing coming if he thinks you’re just going to bow down and not argue with him because he’s rich.

“He doesn’t treat women like shit-? Where are you getting your facts from?” Satoru argues, and his jaw tightens a minuscule amount. It’s bad enough that he’s being challenged, but he’s being challenged by a woman.

“His literal interviews, and the video of him literally beating a woman?”

“That video was just a sex act without any context.” He dismisses, rolling his eyes and not dispelling any claims about the interviews.

“Bitch, is that what sex sounds like to you? Because you must not be doing it right if she sounds like that.”The room erupts into laughter, and Satoru’s face only makes it better. His pale skin is becoming a little flushed. His eyebrow is twitching slightly with anger.

He takes a breath before quickly recovering. He hasn’t forgotten his objective tonight is to sleep with you. His signature smile returns to his face, and he leans in slightly. “I don’t know. Why don’t you come teach me how to do it right?”

“As if. I’d rather grind my pussy against a cheese grater than fuck an Andrew Tate fan.” More laughter breaks out amongst the small group of people.

Satoru’s jaw drops as he looks at you with disbelief. You’d rather… grate your cunt than sleep with him? “Oh yeah? So, what kind of guy piques your interest then, princess? You probably like those woke emasculated guys. Suguru might be more up your alley.”

“Hey, what the fuck?” Suguru laughs, chunking an empty beer can at Satoru’s head. The girl in Suguru’s lap continues to mindlessly giggle and play with his hair.

“No, I like men who are calm and capable. Maybe a guy who can lead but also knows when to take the backseat.” You explain, eyes wandering over Satoru’s stature. “I like them funny and kind.”

“See? I’m just what you need, princess. I can do all those things and so much more.”

“Yeah? You’re going to take the backseat sometimes?” You challenge with a knowing smile on your face. You already know what type of guy Satoru is based off of this sole interaction — plus all of the horror stories of how he’s a modern-day Casanova.

“Princess, the only time you’ll need me to take a backseat is when you’re riding that pretty pussy against my face.” His cerulean eyes gleam against the LEDs in the room. He’s fully confident that will win you over.

Your face stays completely flat. You don’t even crack a small pity smile for him. “Oh sorry, was this meant to be the part where you’re funny?”

Satoru looks at you, and you see a small twitch in his eye. He’s never had someone match his wit or his sass before. You were the perfect challenge for him — his perfect match up.

He tips his red solo cup up until his finishes the rest of his drink. Fuck sleeping with you. He wants to make you beg for him to fuck you while he just laughs in disinterest. You’re his mission now.

“You’re cute, princess.” He finally comments before getting comfortable in his chair again. “You don’t have to act like you don’t want me. ‘s okay. No one here will blame you.”

Your arms cross over your chest, and your lips curl into a frown. As much as you want to pretend to be unbothered, your face can help but show the irritation you feel from him. He’s unwavering, thinking that he will just argue and flirt his way to winning you over.

He needs to be humbled real quick, and you’ve got nothing else better to do.

“Oh really? Thank god. I’ve been dying to get on my knees and suck the most mediocre dick of my life.”

“You have the wrong guy, sweetness. I’m anything but mediocre.” He retorts without missing a beat.

By this time, most of everyone has stopped paying attention to you two — used to Satoru’s antics by now. This is just another Sunday night for him — chasing pussy as per usual.

“Yeah? Any guy who constantly boasts about how good they are in bed usually isn’t good at all.” You respond with a small eye roll.

Satoru’s strong arms cross over his chest. He’s wearing a simple white shirt with some black pants. It’s overwhelming plain, but it compliments him so well since his appearance is striking enough as it is. “I never boasted, princess. I simply stated that I wasn’t mediocre.”

You let out a small scoff and shake your head. It was honestly arguing with a brick wall. “Semantics. Either way, I don’t want to fuck you.” You dump your liquor out into a potted plant that’s next to the couch.

Wondering why you even decided to come to this stupid party, you stand up, and Satoru follows suit. “Hey now, darling. Come on. Don’t leave now. The night’s still young.” He tries to smooth things over as he takes puts his hands up in surrender. “I promise I won’t call out the obvious sexual tension between us for the rest of the night.”

“I have more sexual tension with your fake houseplant that I dumped my liquor into.” You deadpan, gathering your things as you decide that a cozy night in would be better than this mess.

Walking outside the house after everyone wishes you goodbye, you let out an audible sigh as you hear the door open and shut once more behind you. You spin on your heel to find Satoru jogging up behind you.

“Did I ruin your mood that much?” He asks with a small smile, shoving his hands into his pockets as he falls in step beside you.

“Well, following me home is certainly not giving you any bonus points.” You retort, tugging your jacket a little bit closer to your body. “Besides, that’s not really my scene.”

Satoru glances over at you as the two of you walk. He finds himself hypnotized in the way your skin glows in the moonlight. He would be lying if he tried to convince himself that you weren’t pretty because you are. Gorgeous — in fact.

“Really?” His voice is a shade softer now that he doesn’t have everyone’s eyes on him. “You seemed like a natural in there.”

You shrug your shoulders, not offering up any more information about yourself to him. He’s just another misguided frat boy with no intentions to change who’s looking to hit.

Satoru hates silence almost as much as he hates not being the center of attention. He hates how you’re not giving in even the slightest for him

“We should go out to dinner together sometime. I think you’d be surprised on how well I can fit in to any scene.” He offers, not quite giving up on hope just yet. He’s determined to get you in his bed, genuinely deluding himself that it would be a favor to you and him.

“No thanks.” Your voice is blunt as you step toward the entrance of a girls’ dormitories. Satoru’s technically not allowed inside at this late of an hour, but he’d be amused to see who would try and stop him. His family is the top donor of the university. He practically owns this place.

He stands there baffled for a moment as you turn down his date invitation. Rejecting his sexual advances is one thing, but you won’t even give him the time of day.

“So, when can I see you?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed and lips curled into a small pout.

“You’ll unfortunately probably see me in class.” You respond, letting the door close behind you and checking to make sure it locked. Breathing a sigh of relief, you trudge your way up the steps to finally get away from that leech of a man.

Satoru stays at the door for a moment, contemplating following you inside — not for any nefarious reason. He just truly believes that you’d like him if you gave him the time of day. One of his many charming qualities is that he can talk anyone into enjoying his presence.

He had already made up his mind. You’re going to like him. You’re going to sleep with him too and like it, and he’s definitely not going to catch feelings for you so he can make you feel as embarrassed as he did tonight.

He’ll just have to set his plan in motion during class.

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crystallinestars · 16 hours ago

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Just Confess Already! Part 2

Drabbles about Genshin men (or you) confessing with the help of a wingman. This is pure fluff.

Characters: Kazuha, Kinich, Ororon, Wanderer, and Cyno.

Part 1 here.

I apologize if the endings sound abrupt, I've edited and rewritten this many times, and at this point I just want to get this finally posted. I also apologize for the length, my writing style has changed since part 1.

🍁 Kazuha

Everyone and their mother at The Crux could tell you and Kazuha had a thing for each other. The way you guys spent most of your free time in each other’s company discussing poetry or music, the way Kazuha always volunteered to help you with your tasks, how you took care of Kazuha when he got drunk, and just the overall subtle romantic tension about your pair tipped off pretty much everyone.

Though Beidou didn’t want to pry into the love lives of her crew, she’d sometimes catch glimpses of you and Kazuha chatting up in the crow’s nest of the ship and noted that the way you smiled at each other was endearing. Otherwise, she paid little attention to it, thinking it was only a matter of time until one of you confessed and you guys became an official couple.

However, that time never came. The two of you pussyfooted around the topic of laying bare your feelings, and everyone at The Crux was getting a little annoyed that you were stuck in the pining phase. There was a limit to how long Beidou could tolerate watching you give each other pining glances without snapping and telling you two to get together already.

One time when you were out on an errand, Beidou and her crew invited Kazuha for a drink. The friendly and cheerful atmosphere prompted some members to share their life stories, and the topic breached romance. Someone asked Kazuha why he hadn’t confessed to you yet, and the drunken ronin answered that he treasured your friendship and didn’t want to jeopardize it in case you didn’t feel the same way.

Beidou could only scoff at his excuse. It was so obvious that you liked him back, and since when was Kazuha such a coward? He could go up against the Raiden Shogun’s deadly Musou no Hitotachi, but had his tail between his legs at the prospect of admitting he loved you to your face? Preposterous! Moreover, she had to tell her crew to settle down because they were creating a spectacle out of your crushes on each other and making bets on which one of you would confess first (she betted on you).

If Kazuha was too much of a coward, Beidou thought, then maybe you’d be braver.

That same evening, she happened to find you alone in your cabin and took the opportunity to bring up the issue of your longtime crush on Kazuha. Though she was no expert on romance, Beidou wanted to help you. She got you to open up and confide in her, patiently listening while you expressed your fears about confessing to Kazuha. You also didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with him, so Beidou stated outright that he returned your feelings. If you didn’t believe her, then see for yourself.

With that, she pried open a window in the cabin. Over the gentle lapping of the waves, you heard the crew’s laughter up on the deck, and the faint sound of Kazuha’s familiar voice. It was a little difficult to hear what he was saying over the crew’s chatter, and his speech was slightly slurred, but you made out a few words. He frequently spoke your name while reciting a few clumsy haikus. But they weren’t just any random poems about the sea or sky—they were love haikus.

Beidou patted your shoulder and told you to have courage instead of wasting your life wondering about what-ifs and regretting not doing anything.

Over the following days, Beidou sent you and Kazuha out on joint errands in Liyue Harbour. The errands themselves weren’t all that important, but they served as good excuses to give you two some alone time. Kazuha was no fool and quickly deduced that Beidou was setting you two up on purpose, but he wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to spend more time with you.

Beidou hoped something would finally change by the time you returned, and sure enough, when she spotted you and Kazuha walking back to the ship, she smiled. The two of you were holding hands and smiling warmly at each other, a good sign that your once-suppressed feelings were now in the open. Naturally, the rest of the crew noticed the change as well and grew excited when you confirmed that you and Kazuha were now in a romantic relationship.

That night, they brought out the good wine and food to congratulate you and Kazuha on finally getting together. Most of the Crux’s crew joined on the festivities, with some members being nosy and asking you for details on how it happened and who confessed first.

When you admitted to confessing first, Beidou smugly accepted her winnings and took a big swig of her drink before yelling out a cheer. Her crew followed suit in toasting and cheering much to your and Kazuha’s embarrassment, but it was all in good fun. Beidou made sure to make it up to you by distracting the crew with a drinking game and sending you a wink as she allowed you and Kazuha to make a quiet escape from the party. The Crux gang would have plenty of time to tease you in the future—for now, you and Kazuha deserved to enjoy this newfound relationship without others poking their noses where they don’t belong. Beidou would make sure of it.

🟩 Kinich

Kinich’s relationship with you perplexed K’uhul Ajaw. The Almighty Dragonlord couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, but something between you two changed. Recently, Kinich had been giving you discounts whenever you asked for his help, and sometimes even did things for you for free. Kinich the Malipo giving someone special treatment? Unheard of! And on top of all that, his servant had been visiting you more frequently during downtime, and there was also that strange glint in Kinich’s eyes whenever he looked at you, something akin to endearment—

Oh.

Kinich liked you.

Oh, this was going to be good!

Ajaw’s diabolical nature wouldn’t let him keep Kinich’s feelings for you a secret. The next time you came to hang out with their duo, the saurian waved his little stubby arms and ran his mouth as soon as you were within earshot. “Hey, human! Our lowly servant has developed romantic feelings for you like some sort of prepubescent schoolboy! Isn’t that a riot?” and cackled, thinking Kinich would be thoroughly humiliated and put in his place.

To Ajaw’s dismay, instead of looking disgusted by the news, you appeared… hopeful? A tad surprised by his outburst, but was that hope shining in your eyes? To Ajaw’s even greater dismay, Kinich lacked any sort of outward reaction to having his crush on you vocalized so brazenly. Instead, the saurian hunter told you to ignore Ajaw’s nonsensical words in his usual calm manner, before smacking the pixelated menace away for a timeout. Right before he got locked away, Ajaw managed to catch a glimpse of disappointment in your eyes when Kinich brushed the situation aside as if it were nothing.

That day, K’uhul Ajaw realized that Kinich’s feelings were not one-sided like he originally thought. You liked Kinich too. The mere thought of you two acting all lovey-dovey with each other was sickening, but the saurian figured poking fun at you and Kinich would be a good source of entertainment.

After that day, Ajaw became even more insufferable. Every chance he got, he’d swoop in with a taunting remark and make fun either you, Kinich, or both.

One time while accompanying Kinich through a dense forest, you slipped on a wet tree root and were sent falling towards the ground. However, Kinich swiftly caught you and pulled you to his chest to help stabilize you. Ajaw had a field day laughing and crowing about how scandalous you were for practically throwing yourself at Kinich like that. Were you that desperate to be in his arms? Disgusting!

The saurian also used every opportunity he could find to reveal all of Kinich’s secrets to you. Did you know Kinich gave you special treatment? No? Are you blind?! Can’t you tell he does stuff for you for free? Why do you think he brings you game and wild berries free of charge every once in a while--to show off how good he is at hunting?! Have you at least noticed Kinich smiled more and acted softer towards you, or are you really that blind? He doesn’t treat anyone else that way, you know! …And so on and so forth, though most of his attempts to out Kinich are interrupted by the man himself locking Ajaw away before the dragon reveals too much.

As fun as it was to watch your pair’s awkward attempts at showing signs of affection for each other, Ajaw eventually grew frustrated with standing witness to the mutual pining that never progressed anywhere. It made the little saurian’s blood boil with annoyance.

Whenever he and Kinich were alone, Ajaw would complain that the hunter should stop being a dimwit and a coward and just confess to you already! How could he not see that you obviously liked him back?! Seriously, how bad was his luck to end up with such an imbecile for a servant?!

Kinich coolly rejected Ajaw’s insistence for confessing his feelings. It was not in his nature to recklessly rush into the unknown—he needed to carefully analyze and weigh his options before coming to a sound decision. As such, his relationship with you was not to be rushed. This didn’t sit well with Ajaw, but no matter what he said, Kinich stubbornly refused to listen.

The Dragonlord’s patience reached a breaking point during one fateful day. It was getting dark, and Kinich had offered to escort you home. Once you were safely at your doorstep, you made the bold move of kissing Kinich’s cheek in thanks. For a split moment, Ajaw swore there was palpable romantic tension between you as your and Kinich’s eyes met (gross). Kinich glanced at your lips, looking as if he wanted to lean in and kiss you (doubly gross) and Ajaw prepared himself to make disgusted gagging noises, except… nothing happened. With a seldom seen blush on his cheeks, Kinich awkwardly cleared his throat and bid you goodnight, preparing to leave.

Ajaw exploded.

“This is painful to watch! You two were clearly made for each other—both equally cowardly and blind to each other’s feelings! Just admit you like each other already; you’re not fooling anyone! Kinich, you cowardly, brainless, insufferable insect—just lean in for that kiss, you obviously want to! And you! Stop waffling and just spit out that you like Kinich already! Agh, watching you two is torture! What did the great K’uhul Ajaw do to deserve this fate?!” he yelled, turning red in the face.

Kinich promptly locked Ajaw away, for which the saurian would later chew him out once he was free, but not before interrogating you and the hunter about whether you finally confessed. Once Kinich revealed that yes, you had talked it out and admitted your mutual feelings for each other and were now in a relationship, Ajaw could finally feel some sense of peace regarding the situation.

Feeling proud of his contributions, Ajaw puffed out his chest and told you and Kinich to pucker up and kiss his feet in worship, for only with the help of the Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw has your relationship progressed instead of stagnating like swamp water.

Though the saurian relic continued to be an annoyance, even Kinich had to admit that Ajaw played a part in getting you together. Though not in the form of worship or foot kissing, Kinich did repay the favor by procuring some quenepa berries and other fruits that Ajaw liked, hosting a small feast as a thank you. Though Ajaw complained about being scammed, the snacks did the trick of improving his mood and keeping him occupied while you and Kinich had some precious time to yourselves.

🦇 Ororon

Ever since you and Ororon were children, Citlali observed that the two of you got along well. So well, in fact, that Ororon had developed a little crush on you. He would pluck flowers from a nearby meadow to give you, follow you around like a loyal puppy, and one time, Ororon told Citlali that he hoped to marry you one day.

Citlali couldn’t help but find Ororon’s crush on you adorable, and a part of her anticipated the day when you both grew up and got married. She had no doubt you would make the sweetest couple among the Masters of the Night-Wind.

Ororon’s attraction to you persisted into adulthood. At that point, Citlali could no longer call it a cute little crush— “Love” was a more apt description for how Ororon felt towards you, even if he tried to hide the depth of his attachment to you. He was content to stay as just your friend and not risk ruining the close bond you had in case you didn’t return his feelings. Citlali was a little frustrated that Ororon continued to pine for you without doing anything about it, but she knew better than to force the stubborn boy to do something he didn’t want to. If you were both happy with the way things were, then why change them?

However, during one of her rare trips to the market for some divination supplies, Citlali overheard a conversation between two tribespeople. The topic of conversation was about love, and one of the men bashfully admitted that he thought you were pretty and that he hoped to ask you out on a date soon. This news washed over Citlali like a bucket of cold water as worry seized her heart.

This wasn’t the first time others had expressed romantic interest in you. After all, you’ve always had a bit of a reputation among the Masters of the Night-Wind for being attractive, so it wasn’t surprising others had an eye on you. However, now that you were an independent adult, it wouldn’t be strange for you to look for a partner to settle down with, right? Knowing Ororon, the dimwit wouldn’t ever think to confess, and what if someone else confessed before he did and stole your heart?

Citlali didn’t want to force you to choose Ororon, but she didn’t want things to end without her beloved grandson at least taking a shot at winning you over. The last thing she wanted was for Ororon to be left heartbroken and disappointed all because he let the chance to be with you slip from his fingers.

With these troubled thoughts, Citlali sought out Ororon and announced that he needed to stop dawdling and actively pursue you unless he wanted to watch your heart get stolen by somebody else. Citlali’s sudden proclamation confused Ororon, so she explained that he’s not the only one who is in love with you and that there’s a risk of you choosing someone else to spend your life with.

As she expected, Ororon stubbornly refused to go along with her urging, saying that who you wanted to end up with was your choice and he would respect it. Though he said that, Citlali could see it on Ororon’s face that the mere thought of you falling for someone else hurt him, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for her grandson.

After much convincing and reassurance, Citlali got Ororon to agree to court you and promised to come up with a plan to help him in this endeavour. There was, however, one major problem: how were two socially awkward outcasts supposed to win someone’s heart? Having never been courted herself, Citlali had no past experiences to draw from when designing her plan, but it shouldn’t be too hard, right? She’d read a lot of romance novels imported from Inazuma, so maybe if she got Ororon to do some of the same things the male leads did, then it would curry your favour? Regardless, it was worth a shot.

The plan was for Ororon to prove his worth as a suitable partner by giving you gifts, compliments, and always being there for you no matter what it was. In Ororon’s opinion, he was already doing all of these things for you as a friend, but Citlali insisted that his actions needed to be infused with romance to distinguish them from gestures of friendship. Her grandson was still reluctant to actively court you, but he had promised to try and try he did. Except, his approach subverted Citlali’s expectations.

When it came to giving gifts, instead of presenting jewellery, woven scrolls, or useful gadgets, the young man gifted you game he had caught in the wild and the best selection of produce from his garden. Citlali could only facepalm when Ororon told her which gifts he planned to give you, but she also knew he put genuine thought into them. Ororon handpicked the nicest veggies he could find in his garden and personally delivered them to your doorstep instead of sending Ifa like he normally would. Citlali told him that giving gifts in person held more meaning, and Ororon appeared to have taken her words to heart.

Ororon also gifted you flowers much like he did when you were little. However, this time he didn’t give you flowers plucked from the wild. Instead, he gifted you potted plants that he had also grown in his garden. “They will live and look pretty for longer,” he told you, then received a flick to the forehead once Citlali found out what he did.

His compliments were no better. Saying things like his vegetables grew better whenever you visited his home and spoke to his plants or your presence being calming for the aphids, was the best Ororon could do. Citlali admonished him for these strange compliments, but to Ororon, that was the highest praise anyone could receive. After all, you were an amazing person, and even his plants and aphids sensed it.

Ororon’s courtship was unconventional to say the least, and granny Itztli worried whether her grandson made a favorable impression on you. To help improve Ororon’s image in your eyes, Citlali sought you out more often to put in a good word for her grandson and get you to see him as a man. She highlighted Ororon’s good points to you, commenting how Ororon is a bit peculiar, but he’s also kind, resourceful, accepting, gentle, and so much more. A truly good kid. He would make an excellent romantic partner, wouldn’t you agree?

Her pushiness flustered you, but it also allowed Citlali to gauge how you felt about Ororon, and she had to contain her excitement when she pieced together that you loved him back. In her giddiness, she urged Ororon to confess.

When the day of the confession came, Citlali hid among some trees while keeping an eye on you and Ororon. She didn’t intent to spy, but the anxiety over how the confession would go made her antsy and she couldn’t sit still at home. She watched as Ororon offered you a basket of his finest produce and finally professed his love. The confession came out awkward because he tried to recite what he practiced with Citlali a few days prior, and he seemed to realize this because Ororon then took your hand and placed it against his chest. Using his own words this time, Ororon explained that he genuinely did love you, and the racing of his heart should be proof enough that you were more than just a friend in his eyes. However, it was alright if you didn’t feel the same way about him.

Citlali had to clamp her hands over her mouth to hold back from squealing in giddiness as she watched you reciprocate Ororon’s feelings. She would later apologize for spying since she knew it was wrong, but it filled her with joy to witness the blossoming of love between you. In some ways, this was better than any romance novel she had read in all her years of living, and it warmed her heart to see you both so happy.

Even if it was a childhood fantasy, perhaps Ororon’s wish of marrying you was not that far off now? Citlali certainly hoped so.

☂️ Wanderer

Nahida was no expert on romance, but she had observed enough couples during her 500-year-long imprisonment to know what romantic attraction looked like. The strange air surrounding you and Wanderer must have been that, she speculated, as she watched Wanderer hand you a box of your favorite foods with the flimsy excuse of having made too much. For your part, you seemed genuinely touched by the gesture despite Wanderer’s grumbling, much to Nahida’s delight. Wanderer’s prickly personality pushed some people away, but not you. You stayed by his side and gave him the companionship he needed, helping Wanderer open up and heal from his trauma.

It was clear you deeply cared for the young man, and a little peek into your mind confirmed to Nahida that yes, you did love him romantically. She couldn’t read Wanderer’s mind since he blocked all her attempts to do so, but she didn’t need mindreading to conclude that he loved you too.

When she next spoke with Wanderer, she carefully asked if he loved you. Wanderer’s response was a gruff “No” and “Stop asking”, however Nahida could tell he wasn’t being honest with his feelings. If he didn’t love you, then why did he treat you differently compared to everyone else? His manner of speech is gentler when with you, and despite all his grumbling he still complies with all your requests no matter how irritating he may find them. Not to mention, he spends most of his free time in your company, goes out of his way to make you little gifts and cook your favorite dishes. Surely all these behaviours were proof that you were someone special to him?

Being effectively cornered, the puppet had no choice except to come clean about his hidden feelings. With scowl and a blush on his cheeks, Wanderer reluctantly admitted that yes, he likes you, but it was none of Nahida’s business and she’d better stay out of it.

Despite Wanderer’s warning, the Dendro Archon wanted to help get you together. She felt confident that if both of you put in a little effort, a beautiful romance could blossom between you. Still, she didn’t want to outright reveal your feelings for each other. She believed that each of you should relay these intimate feelings yourselves. All Nahida would do is give you a gentle nudge in the right direction.

To help her with this task, Nahida sought help from a few Aranara and asked them to keep an eye on you and Wanderer and report any meaningful details that could help her bring you together. Through her little helpers, Nahida learned the full extent of Wanderer’s affections for you, and she couldn’t help but smile at how sweet he was, especially when it came to you.

Using this acquired knowledge, the Dendro Archon frequently brought up Wanderer in your conversations with her to explain the thoughtfulness behind some of his gifts and words. For as frank as he usually was with people, Wanderer was more close-lipped about the true extent of his feelings, so Nahida had some work cut out for her in making you realize how much he truly cared about you.

For example, the next time Wanderer gave you your favorite food with the excuse that he’d made too much, Nahida revealed to you that he actually spent several days perfecting the recipe before finally giving the dish to you.

That hand-made bracelet he gifted you, saying he got it for free during an arts and crafts event he visited? Wanderer actually made it himself during that event and used beads of your favorite colors. The Aranara watched him spend a lot of time crafting that bracelet with the greatest care, but Nahida left that part out.

In addition, she would subtly drop hints for you to invite Wanderer to hang out more often. For example, the Zubayr Theater was hosting a play and Nahida heard there was a discount if you bought two tickets. Why don’t you go and invite Wanderer to come with you?

As for Wanderer, she discreetly told him that you once mentioned wanting to try out a new drink at Puspa Cafe but had nobody to go with, so why not be a good friend and take you there himself? Wanderer initially objected, but ultimately caved in and invited you to the Café while commenting that a certain annoying sprout said you wanted to try a new drink there, though deep down he glad for the opportunity to spend more time with you. Nahida could tell by the way Wanderer went out of his way to spoil you that day, buying you anything you wanted and keeping you company until the sun set.

Little by little, Nahida softened Wanderer towards the possibility of being in a romantic relationship with you, and helped you gather the courage to confess. Wanderer was unlikely to ever confess first, so the responsibility rested on your shoulders. She could tell you were nervous about laying bare your feelings, but she reassured you that things would go well. You only needed to take that leap of faith.

When you finally confessed, Nahida and the Aranara secretly observed the scene from behind a nearby corner, curious to see how things would go while also quietly cheering you on (not that you knew). When a flustered Wanderer accepted your confession, Nahida was overjoyed. She had fun guiding both of you towards this moment, but the satisfaction of knowing you could finally be together the way you always wished was rewarding in its own way. Even when Wanderer later confronted her about spying on you during your confession and scolded her for it, the little Archon’s happiness didn’t wane. She looked forward to seeing what your newfound relationship would blossom into, and had no doubt it would be something beautiful and pure, just like your love for each other.

👁️‍🗨️ Cyno

It was no secret to Tighnari that you and Cyno liked each other. He had known about your mutual crushes as far back as your student days at the Akademiya where you first met. You became fast friends with him and Cyno, but Tighnari couldn’t help but think Cyno was a bit more special to you than you let on. After all, you were one of the few who wasn’t intimidated by Cyno’s perpetual stern facial expressions and actively sought him out, and who actually laughed at his lame jokes.

Tighnari also knew about Cyno’s crush on you since his friend confided about it to him. Not that Cyno needed to say anything because Tighnari could see his attraction to you clear as day. Cyno’s eyes lit up whenever he saw you in the distance, he tried to act “cooler” in your presence in an attempt to impress you, and Tighnari swore that if Cyno had a tail, it would have wagged like a dog’s every time you laughed at his jokes.

Though he knew about your mutual romantic attraction to each other, Tighnari didn’t want to stick his nose into your love lives. He figured you guys would resolve everything yourselves in due time.

However, nothing changed even after you guys graduated. Your group remained close friends and saw each other regularly, but Tighnari was starting to lose his patience with how you and Cyno hopelessly pined for each other. He had already lost count of the number of times each of you came to him for advice on how to win the other over.

Cyno asked Tighnari’s opinion on a lot of things: Would you like his newest joke? Would you be okay with Cyno volunteering to be your bodyguard for your upcoming desert excursion? Which of his limited edition TCG cards best represented you? Cyno wanted to express how much you meant to him by giving you a card that reminded him of you.

You were no better. Tighnari had lost count of the number of times you approached him with questions about Cyno’s work schedule. Your excuse was that you wanted to plan hangouts with him, Collei, and Cyno during their days off, but Tighnari knew there was another reason why you asked about Cyno’s schedule in particular. He had half a mind to tell you to ask Cyno yourself because it was obvious that you just wanted to spend more time with the General Mahamatra. You also pestered Tighnari with questions about Cyno’s TCG deck. Much like his friend, you wanted to express your appreciation for Cyno by giving him cards he didn’t have yet.

Seriously, you two were a match made in heaven…

Tighnari would have found your mutual crushes on each other endearing, if only he wasn’t stuck being the middleman. As it stood, Tighnari wanted nothing more than to throttle both of you for pussyfooting around your feelings and getting him caught up in being your messenger. He was on the brink of snapping and sitting you both down to explain that your feelings were mutual, so just hurry up and get together already.

That’s why the next time Cyno approached him with another question about you, Tighnari took the opportunity to convince his friend to confess. He and Collei assured Cyno that you liked him a lot, and urged him to tell you his feelings. Cyno was hesitant but did seem to want some closure about whether you liked him back or not, so Tighnari gave him an incentive. How about the next time he played TCG with you, you guys set some stakes? Why not have a rule that the loser must tell the winner a secret? If Cyno lost, he would have to confess.

Cyno wasn’t fond of the idea initially, but agreed after some contemplation, acknowledging that this method would be effective in giving him that necessary push. Still, Tighnari could tell Cyno was nervous about confessing, so he volunteered to come along as moral support, much to Cyno’s gratitude.

That was how Tighnari and Collei found themselves at Puspa Cafe, sitting a few tables away from you and Cyno, hidden from your line of sight. Tighnari tutored Collei while Cyno played that fateful round of TCG against you, but the Forest Ranger kept a close eye on his friend. Though he didn’t want to get too invested in Cyno’s love life, even he couldn’t help but grow anxious as he watched the TCG match end with Cyno’s loss.

Although Tighnari was too far away to hear what Cyno was saying, he could tell the moment of confession had come. Now, the ball was in your court.

You looked stunned by whatever Cyno said, but soon smiled and said something that made Cyno mirror the happy expression on your face and reach out to hold your hand. Though he couldn’t hear, Tighnari knew you had reciprocated his feelings. Even Collei quietly fawned over how cute you both looked. It had been a long journey, but he was truly happy for his friend. Out of everyone, Cyno was happiest with you, and Tighnari hoped you would continue to make him happy for many years to come.

With everything ending well, Tighnari beckoned Collei and discreetly left the cafe before you or Cyno noticed. As happy as he was for you guys, he dreaded the possibility of Cyno coercing them into a TCG match. With how elated his friend must be right now, it was only a matter of time until Cyno called him and Collei over for a new game to celebrate you accepting his feelings. In Tighnari’s opinion, you guys deserved to have some proper time to yourselves to explore your feelings and new relationship without him and Collei serving as thirdwheels. That, and he just really didn’t want to sit through another hour of watching Cyno show off for you.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kinich x reader #ororon x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #cyno x reader

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mageofquandrix · 3 days ago

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I have a whole meta thing I’m trying to write that’s basically this. It’s entirely consistent with her character journey.

She ends up in the shit to begin with because she frees a ship of slaves, already setting her apart as someone different, who cares about morals, and then yeah, as OP mentioned, had everything go to shit in spectacular fashion over a stolen artifact. Not to mention her friends are, in some versions (for hawke, p sure fenris always gets mad) sitting there going “Isabela, you did what? Not cool.” She even seems like she feels bad, iirc, she just doesn’t know what to do without screwing herself.

It’s been around 11-12 years since the end of DA2, so it’s been 20-25 years since she made that mistake and she spent like 8-10 years dealing with the fallout of it. If she ran, she probably dealt with it for even longer and lost her friends.

20-something years is PLENTY of time to learn and grow and change. It would be patently insane for her not to grow, especially since she was fairly ethical for a pirate to begin with. (Remember, being a proud slut has nothing to do with ethics!) I’d argue it would be bad writing if she’d learned nothing from DA2.

Also, she’s still being paid. It’s not like she’s doing it out of the good of her heart. This way, she can properly appraise and get a fair price for things, not get attacked for taking something that’s really going to piss someone off, and still gets paid.

Finally, the Lords of Fortune *have * to adhere to a more ethical code, since Rook can have that background. It says as much in the background summary. Otherwise the game doesn’t work; do you really think Varric is going to work with Isabella OR her underling if he thought he was risking a Kirkwall 2.0?

I’ll write this better and in my own post with sources later when I have time and energy, but I have neither right now, so apologies if I am misremembering some detail of canon

on the one hand, i both understand and somewhat agree with the criticism that the lords of fortune were defanged of the more problematic elements that accompany treasure hunting and piracy, but on the other hand the idea that isabela reformed her raiders into a group that checks how important a plundered item is culturally before doing anything with it specifically because the last time isabela did NOT do this it resulted in An Actual Violent Coup That Almost Destroyed Kirkwall And Got The Viscount Literally Murdered is so fucking funny that i'm just like "yeah, fair enough"

#it’s a holiday and I’m being misgendered within an inch of my life while dehydrated and jet lagged #so I’m not doing my best work #datv spoilers #Isabela tag

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communistkenobi · 11 hours ago

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I was looking for a book recently on an online storefront and was recommended a book written by a physicist about the history of humanity. this was a popular press book that was not intended to be read by other academics, but it reminded me of this niche genre of books, with experts from the physical sciences writing about human behaviour or history or what have you. Could you imagine coming across the inverse? A popular press book that purported to explain physics written by a historian?

There is some deep imbalance in how public perceptions of “general intelligence” seem to work - those in STEM are generally recognised for their competence, expertise, and intellectual acumen, and this recognition can be generalised, that at some level a demonstration of your expertise of eg astrophysics is a demonstration of your abilities of investigation writ large, that you have figured out some central underlying element of science that allows for basically limitless intellectual extension to any field or subject. A physicist can write a book about human history and be taken seriously by the general public on the assumption that physics is more difficult to understand than history, so any lower domain of investigation is open to them. The reverse is often not extended to a lot of the social sciences, particularly the theoretically-heavy social sciences; theory is just making bullshit up at the end of the day, it has no real practical application because any questions about the philosophy of thought or knowledge - how did we come to know what we know and under what conditions do we know these things - is just the indulgent wankery of people who can’t find a real job.

And of course it would be silly to insist that because you have read Hegel, an infamously difficult thinker, you know how to interpret the lab print-outs of electrochemists - I don’t want this goofy concept of general intelligence to be applied everywhere, I want it to go away entirely, but its current uneven applications across scientific fields indicates a broader problem with public conceptions of expertise and knowledge.

This probably has something to do with anti-communism on some level - social science is not generally regarded as “real science” (in no small part because social science is often the field of bureaucrats, and while animosity towards bureaucrats is deeply sympathetic, I suspect the reasons for this animosity are not themselves scientifically grounded), that while there is a public understanding of “objective facts” that exist prior and external to human interpretation, the politics of knowledge are hegemonically oriented around liberalism, to such an extent that any critique of the assumptions of knowledge are viewed as a dogmatic denial of reality done for the purposes of political infiltration and brainwashing. And I don’t feel totally unqualified to say this, given that this is basically the de facto response from students encountering Marxism for the first time in university. “Marx is too dogmatic” may as well be inscribed above the doors to lecture halls. Hell, Jordan Peterson made a nice little public career for himself railing against “post-modern neo-Marxism,” a phrase so nonsensical that the fact he was not immediately and permanently laughed out of the public arena for saying it is an indictment of how politically illiterate we are as a society!

And the infuriating thing is that a lot of social science scholarship (not just from the US but especially from the US) is complete horseshit, just pure evil garbage motivated solely by a desire to justify the fact that we do really need to keep killing tens of thousands of people a year to keep this whole party going. Every sociologist who calls themselves a “methodological individualist” is contributing to the long-standing tradition of eugenics scholarship but is too craven and vain to admit to this. If you had to describe the sum-total of the social scientific scholarly output of the west in a word, it would be ‘mysticism.’ Because it is the case that anti-colonial, anti-imperial, and anti-capitalist investigations of the political-economic conditions of the world have produced social scientific knowledge on par with the discovery of the atom, but it is not treated as such. “It is right to rebel” is not just a moral claim about violence but a scientific summary of human history.

But I think it is precisely this reactionary state of affairs that makes people devalue the social sciences as an actual site of legitimate investigation, that understanding the historical trajectory of ideas or the political conditions of life are valuable pursuits for any just society. Because social science deals with the social world, the political conditions under which the social world is investigated and understood are themselves bound up in questions of political and economic power. But this equally extends to the physical sciences - I know at least in environmental sciences, there is an ever-growing reckoning with climate change as an imminent threat to all life on earth, and environmental scientists cannot avoid talking about the political conditions of our planet even if all they want to do is study a river. Genocide is measurable in soil samples taken in the American continent. The separation of the environmental from the social is itself a historically contingent arrangement of knowledge.

But this is infuriating to even complain about because I don’t want to sound like an entitled academic or ego-bruised professional. I have no desire to start a faculty war with the STEM fields. I feel secure in my own expertise. I do not want anyone to “recognise my greatness” I am just profoundly lonely in this whole affair. and it just so happens that we exist in terribly anti-intellectual conditions for the most cruel and ugly reasons possible, and so we (me, I) have to suffer seeing books on sale claiming to give a general account of human history written by a physicist

#Idk what to tag this lol

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bokutosbabe · 15 hours ago

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જ⁀♡⊹｡° sniper, sniper, sniper ♡ wifey, wifey, wifey

( bllk boys showing you off )

♡ a/n — i just love the tiktok trend so :) ( was going to attach a link to a tiktok showing what i was talking abt but it wouldn't work. just look up sniper sniper sniper wifey wifey marines and you'll see what i meant :) )

♡ content — all characters are 18+ !!, mentions of tiktok & instagram, slight cursing, tbh bad writing, nicknames like 'love' , 'wifey' , and 'my girl' used, probably ooc characters

♡ synopsis — blue lock boys showing off their girlfriend :)

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' oh that's your wifey ? ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...tiktok maker

if there was anyone you would really and truly call chronically online, it would be him. every day he'd come to you with some new word he learned from tiktok, or a meme that would plague your house for weeks until it went away.

so when he pulled out his phone to show you a video, you weren't expecting it to be a couples trend.

" please, please, pleaseee, love? you'd look so cute in my arms like that ! " and he had just won a big game...how could you say no to him?

so here you were, being carried like a bride in your lovely boyfriend's arms. if it were anyone else, you'd be too worried about how long they could hold you, but since it was him you didn't worry.

it took a few tries, each of you messing up a part at least once and you accidentally dropping the phone a few times, but after you figured it out, the video was practically perfect.

they posted it to their public tiktok account with the caption

' not my wifey yet, but soon ;) '

and to say all the notifications were making his phone glitch would be an understatement.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ BACHIRA MEGURU, hiori yo, SHIDOU RYUSEI, chigiri hyoma, OTOYA EITA, isagi yoichi

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...instagram poster

maybe, just maybe it was wrong of him.

wrong of him to want to post these pictures the two of you had taken on your date to the aquarium?

if he were any other, normal, person this wouldn't have seemed like a big deal, but since he had at least a million followers and some were a bit more obsessed than others, it was.

you'd told him multiple times that you were okay with him posting you, really if he was happy, you were happy. maybe it was the egoist in him, but he wanted to keep you to himself.

fuck it.

if you wanted to be posted, he was going to post you. who cared what anyone else thought? their opinions didn't mean anything to him.

he selected a few of the pictures the two of you had taken at the aquarium, sneaking one of a lipstick stain on his neck in the middle of the slides.

if he was going to announce his relationship to the public, why not let the world know how utterly whipped he was for you?

the caption was a simple

' gotta love my girl ♡ '

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ YUKIMIYA KENYU, karasu tobito, REO MIKAGE, alexis ness, RANZE KURONA, gin gagamaru

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...national television?!

the ever illusive pro soccer player. that's what every press agency called your boyfriend.

his ability to somehow dodge any paparazzi and answer very short questions during press conferences made every view into his personal life shine like gold.

based on an instagram story ( that was taken down in less than 10 minutes ) where a picture of him with his arms around a woman in a bathroom mirror, the media could assume he was in a relationship. in that photo, however, the woman's face was not visible, so the questioned still remained...

what woman could capture this mans heart?

he hadn't cared, not really. a photo was nothing to him, but you were everything. he tried really hard to keep your identity private, he didn't want you to be absorbed into a world of cameras always in your face.

but after he made the game winning goal of a very important game...all he wanted to do was see you.

maybe it was the way he could see you in the section you'd always sat, or maybe it was his ego wanting to tell everyone "yeah i'm the best soccer player, and yeah i have the best girl, what about it?"

as all of the adoring fans rushed the field, including you, he just wanted to see you. he knew, realistically, he should just go back to the locker room and come meet you afterwards like he usually did, but not today.

he shrugged off ever reporter and fan that wanted to talk to him, which was nothing new, but instead of leaving to the locker room, they watched as he walked over to you

he knew all eyes were on him, the world still watching...but he couldn't find it in himself to care. he wrapped his arms around your waist

" made that goal for you, ya know? "

you were a little surprised at his appearance, but if he didn't care neither than you.

" i know. "

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, rensuke kunigami, RIN ITOSHI, shidou ryusei, ZANTETSU TSURUGI, sae itoshi

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' i think i like her . ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

this was a midnight brain dump so it's pretty bad, but i hope yall liked it :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

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prettyboykatsuki · 12 hours ago

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cause we're, y'know | k. bakugou

✮ tags ; gender neutral reader, fluff, post relationship jitters, bakugou being down bad a little bit, friends to lovers. not 18+ but minors do Not follow me.

✮ wc ; 1k

✮ a/n ; a comm for @euthymiya who gave me free reign to do whatever which i used to write corny bkg fluff... thank u for commissioning me most beloved riv <3

✮ synopsis ; bringing his friend turned lover a lunchbox is normal, alright? plenty fucking normal.

Bakugou taps his fingers along the edge of the bench he's been sitting on since evening - beating to an unsteady rhythm.

He can Sero's voice in the back his hand as he squeezes the wrapped bento a little closer to his torso. The shitty, sing-song teasing lilt when you and Bakugou were less then lovers but more then friends.

And now you're lovers proper, as fucking corny as he finds it. But maybe he's not finding it corny enough because he's sitting in the lobby of your office building with a bento he made by hand. There's some chatter from strangers coming in and out of your office building - the occasional ding of elevators, the passing whistle of a janitor.

The awful, loud, no good thump of his heartbeat ricocheting against his rib cage as he goes back and forth on whether or not this shit was a good idea.

He's... fucking nervous. Which is total bullshit because he doesn't have anything to be nervous about. It's not like this is the first time you and Bakugou have ever met up to eat lunch. It was just that before, he was coming to meet you as a friend.

Some part of him is thinking, so what if he's your boyfriend? Who gives a shit, anyway?

Another part of him feels so mixed about the ordeal he sort of wants to puke.

His phone buzzes from the pocket of his pants and he grabs it - your phone and contact flashing across his screen

(sent 11:12am) coming down :]

Bakugou smiles to himself, at the stupid emoticon. He thinks about just liking your reply but before he gets the chance another text follows through.

(sent 11:12am) missed you <3

He blushes almost furiously. Partially over the text but mostly from his internal reaction. Stupid. This whole thing is so stupid. He types fast.

(sent 11:14am) hurry your ass up.

That's all he can manage to say without feeling like his chest is going to collapse in on itself. He waits another minute before he hears the elevator doors ding again - a crowd of people dispersing as the doors open. He looks for you among them.

He finds you after a minute, hand waving overhead of the sea of people. He huffs, amused at how rapidly you wave your hand, and thinks about texting you again but you're close enough that he doesn't bother.

You march towards him with a renewed vigor after you aren't lost to the sea of strangers. Bakugou snorts as you hurry your way over to him, almost seeming out of breath - like you ran to see him.

"Hey,"

"Hi!" You say, chipper as always. "You're here."

"No shit."

You laugh. He's heard it before. A hundred times, a thousand maybe. It still sounds weirdly different to him.

"Did you have anywhere in mind to eat?" You ask.

Horror dawns on him at the realization you still didn't realize what's in his hand. "I'm up for anything I think. Feeling adventurous."

Your eyes are sparkling when you ask. Bakugou freezes, blue screening momentarily before taking a breath.

He holds the boxed bento out to you sheepishly, a hand scratching the back of his neck. This is way more embarrassing then he thought it'd be.

"Fuck. Whatever. Look," He says, shaking the upset off of him with a frown. " He doesn't look up at you, doesn't even want to know what he might see. Something bright enough to fucking blind him, he's sure. "Don't say shit or I'm never making you one again."

You blink owlishly before letting your eyes flicker down again at what it's in front you. There's a beat of silence between you before Bakugou sees a grin slowly creep it's way up to your face in a way that makes his chest feel tight.

You take the wrapped bento from him, assessing the weight of it in your hand as you give it a good look. You hold it up to admire it and Bakugou feels the blush crawl further down his neck.

"Stop acting like I just handed you a diamond or some shit," Bakugou says lamely, even by his own standards. Your lips form into affectionate pout.

"You made me a bento." Your lower lip trembles all too sudden and Bakugou's eyes go wide. "I love you,"

Bakugou looks at you, mouth agape. You're completely serious. Nevermind the inappropriate timing or the fact this is the first time you've expressed yourself with a word so serious. He's more concerned about the almost tears at your eyes. He pulls his sleeves over his hands to wipe them from your eyes.

"Dumbass, what are you crying about? You're still in the office, get it together."

"But I love you," You say, more whine then coherent word. Bakugou feels a headache coming on.

"Yeah I got that. Am I really such a shithead me bringing you lunch is worth sobbing over?"

"You made it for me."

"Cause I ain't no punk. Anyone can pay for you you but we're," He stops himself mid way, too embarrassed to get the rest out. "Anyways whatever. It's just lunch. I just... fuckin' realized I never made it for you. Dinner and shit is one thing but we're,"

"Dating," You finish before he can. He falls victim to more blushing.

"Yeah. Whatever. This much is pretty standard, at least." He wipes another tear off your face. It's funny. Anyone else pulled some shit like this and he'd rolls his eyes. "Stop cryin' already."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't gotta say sorry either."

"But,"

"No buts. Hurry and wipe your tears before your breaks over so you don't go all puffy eyed back in the office."

You laugh through a sniffle. "They'll think my boyfriend was being mean to me, huh?"

He snorts, voice full of playful sarcasm. "Yeah exactly. I've got a great reputation to uphold and all."

"Katsuki," You say gently. He gives you a look.

"Hm?"

You lean forward, craning up just slightly to press your lips to his. Your third kiss, now. Not that he's been counting.

"Thank you and," You pull back mischievously, brows furrowing. "Revenge."

He's in so deep. Fuck.

"You're such an idiot." He says, fighting off his own feelings.

"You love me,"

Maybe he's an idiot too.

"Yeah." He says, flicking your forehead and watching you beam. "Unfortunately."

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou fluff #bnha fluff #writing tag #MY HANDSOME MAN #a.fc

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keferon · 2 days ago

Note

Ok so, I've got a little something that's been eating in my head for the past hour or so

So, from as far as i am aware, it depends on the iteration of him, but I've seen a few posts talking about how Ratchet is, first and foremost, a healer, and he wants to help people no matter what. But he's stuck under the terrible circumstances of war, and can't save everyone (not like he can always save everyone, even without a war, but it gets alot more challenging). How he even sometimes helps decepticons!

And so, for the mecha au, i kept thinking: Ratchet having a breaking point after losing one last pilot he was close to (honestly something i plan to write at some point), to a stupif decision the company has made, and they right of the bat, not even a week later is sending new recruits, young recruits, to the same suicidal mission bc "they were so close the last time"

He breaks, leaves, and hides with his alien bf, going off radar and starts to secretly help out the citizens, the families, the children, caught on the crossfire because it just seems like no one cares for the little guys anymore.

He works for the people. He's a healer at heart, even if he's not allowed to be - my sister

Idk, just a thought. Not entirely sure what your interpretation of Ratchet really intels, but it's something that keeps chewing at my brain after a few posts about him i saw a while back.

What gets to me though, is wondering how that comes across to Deadlock, ya know? Does that push some change of heart? Does he see the human differently as he risks himself to save the one little kid everyone seems to ignore the cries for help?

I'd imagine Ratchet asking Deadlock help ride around the ruins and to carry the wounded.

Actually. This is EXACTLY how I see him. Like. YES. ABSOLUTELY.

The same thing he was doing in canon, working in Dead end. Caring for people. Regular people who suffer from the war the most.

#tf mecha universe

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bears-fics · 1 day ago

Text

Coffee

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: cross-posted on ao3, bit buildup and dialouge heavy oops, no use of y/n, female reader, sub spencer and dom-ish reader (you're a bit sweet on him), spencer whines so much, degradation and praise kink (spencer), explicit consent, oral (fem receiving), coming untouched, multiple orgasms, protected p in v sex, riding, coming prematurely, overstimulation, dacryphilia, aftercare

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: You discover something about Spencer after a sleepless night, and it doesn't leave your head until you can sort it out in a hotel room.

A/N: my first time writing smut so I hope it's okay :P comments/reblogs would be super appreciated but don't feel obligated!

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

It started over coffee. It was a ritual, your favorite of the several you and Spencer shared. You would both come into work, way before anyone got there. Spencer would pour his coffee with its obscene amount of sugar, and you'd slot beside him to pour yours with its obscene amount of creamer. You'd talk, or Spencer would, normally about whatever obscure theory he was fixating on.

Today though, you made a beeline for your desk after filling your cup. It had been a sleepless night, filled with nightmares of the horrors you saw on the regular in this field, and you had a mountain of paperwork to catch up on.

You'd hoped Spencer would leave it, and he would've with anyone else, but he always was too comfortable around you. As you stood, so did he, and as you moved to refill your cup, he grabbed your hand.

"Spencer," you said, trying to keep your voice gentle despite your irritation.

He looked pointedly at your oversized cup. "Caffeine overconsumption can worsen anxiety and insomnia," he started, in that tone that indicated a rant, "as well as inhibiting focus, which you need for this job- well, you need sleep too, but that ship has sailed, from the looks of it-"

"Spencer," you practically growled, "shut up and let me pour the damn coffee."

You hadn't meant to sound quite so mad, and an apology was about to leave your mouth before you noticed the blush painting Spencer's face.

Blush?

It was undeniable. There was splotchy color covering his cheeks and the tip of his ears in a way you'd only seen whenever Morgan teased him about his sex life. He'd hunched in on himself, this 6'1 man somehow making himself small in front of you. He wouldn't look you in the eye, which wasn't new, but it felt different this time, and it didn't take long to figure out why. His pupils were blown wide, overtaking his irises.

And you were gaping at him like an idiot. Your jaw snapped shut as Spencer nodded before speed-walking to his desk, as if he was hoping you wouldn't notice.

Of course you noticed. You noticed everything about Spencer, from the way he twisted his hands to his perpetually mismatched socks. You noticed so many miniscule habits that even Spencer himself probably didn't that you could've started a notebook with them; not that you needed to, since they immediately stored themselves in the front of your mind. Obviously, you noticed the glances when he thought you weren't looking, the way he sat next to you on every flight, and the million other things that he would never do for anyone else.

It was something unspoken between you, a closeness you couldn't or wouldn't act on. It was fragile, sugar-spun glass painted with the shades of brown in his puppy-dog eyes. You were so afraid to break it by acting too soon, too fast. You knew you were harsh, too much. But you also knew it would have to come to a head eventually.

God, you needed more coffee.

You had a case that day. Of course you had a case that day.

You're a professional, you reminded yourself as JJ briefed the team.

Fraternization was frowned upon, you thought as Spencer's hand sat dangerously close to yours on the flight.

Bad idea, you reasoned when Spencer looked up at you through his eyelashes as you connected evidence.

Terrible idea, really, you grasped at when Spencer didn't stop looking at you after that.

It was torture, going through the motions of an entire case with the image of a flustered Spencer playing on loop every time he spoke. You were out of it, distracted, and not because of that second cup of coffee.

It boiled over when you asked an officer to repeat himself for the third time. Hotch had asked you to follow him in that "I'm extremely disappointed" tone that he'd perfected.

He led you into an empty room, near-slamming the door shut.

"What is going on with you?" Hotch starts, before taking a breath and cutting himself off.

"Listen, whatever is happening between you two, I need you to sort it out as soon as possible," he says. You open your mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. "We're all profilers," he points out with a raised eyebrow. He sighs.

"We're staying at a hotel tonight. Sleep it off or... do whatever you need to." He leaves you alone in the room. You compose yourself before facing the rest of your team.

"Sort it out."

Fuck it.

It took hours to work up the courage. Hours of pacing around your room combing over every possibility in your head. Every rule that was being broken. But, Hotch had told you to do what you needed to. And that image of Spencer wouldn't leave your mind.

It must have been around 2 AM when you finally ended up knocking on his door. You expected he would be up, but it still surprised you how quickly the door swung open. He hadn't even changed into pajamas, and you realized that in your haze of worry, neither had you.

"We need to talk," you said, firm. Spencer gulped and moved aside to let you in. You stood near the edge of his bed, one hand on your hip. Spencer sat on the bed, gazing up at you with a look that would've been innocent to anyone else.

"This morning," you start with a sigh, "I didn't mean to be that rude." Spencer looks like he wants to say something, but he's holding his tongue. "But, from the looks of it," you continue, "you didn't mind."

Spencer's mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Nothing comes out but a hitch of his breath. He's avoiding your eyes, staring past you to look at the blank wall. You can't have that.

You snap in front of his face, soft but stern, like you're trying to get a dog's attention. His eyes snap to you, pupils blown wide. “Look at me when I'm talking to you,” you say, in a gentle version of the tone you had used that morning.

He whimpers.

He fucking whimpers, maintaining eye contact like you'd asked him to.

You bite your lip slightly, rolling it between your teeth before letting it go. Spencer's face flushes that beautiful red as his hands fly to his crotch, trying in vain to cover a growing erection. You let out a laugh.

“Needy already? From me just talking to you? How pathetic, Spence.” Your voice is low and rough as you gently grab his wrists to move his hands. “Don't. I want to see you.”

The show of control has Spencer whimpering again, starting up at you pathetically as he gets impossibly redder. He's so far gone already, and it's filling your head with things you want to do to him, but you have to make sure he's truly okay with it first.

“Spencer,” you say as you let go of his wrists, earning you a whine, “can you come back to me for a second?” He just whines again, a far-off look on his face, so you let his breathing level out before you tilt his head towards you and pat his face until he looks at you again.

“Spencer,” you say again, still holding his face, “I need to know you want this.” He nods, almost frantic, but you tut at him. “Words,” you scold.

“I do, yes, I need it, please, anything-” Spencer babbles, before you lean down to cut him off with a bruising kiss. He whines immediately, letting you add tongue. You bite at his lower lip, making him moan.

Spencer pulls away to beg. “Please,” he says, “please, I need-” He cuts himself off with a whine, frustration evident.

“Aw, my stupid baby,” you coo, straightening up again. “What is it? Can't you talk, or are you that gone already?”

Spencer whimpers, flushing more at your degradation. “I wanna- I wanna taste you. Please.”

It takes you a second to process that. Spencer Reid, notorious germaphobe, wanted to eat you out. You paused so long that Spencer started to look worried. You unsuccessfully tried to form words a few times and then-

“Knees. Now.”

Your voice sounded commanding, even to you, so it was no surprise that Spencer scrambled to kneel. You stripped slowly, carefully, watching him to make sure he was staying still.

When you were naked, you took Spencer's place on the bed, spreading your legs. He slotted between your thighs, leaning his head on one and mouthing at it. You brought your hands up to his hair, petting it.

“Good boy,” you croon, “so patient for me.” Spencer is purely blissed out below you, all kiss-swollen lips and flushed cheeks. He looks like he'd be content to stay leaning on your thigh forever, just mouthing and biting, but you're impatient.

You grab his hair, gently pulling him to where you want him. He looks up at you, as if asking for permission. “Go ahead,” you grant. He nods and licks a stripe between your folds before circling his tongue around your clit. Your breathing quickens as your hand tightens in his hair and you let out a low moan.

Spencer whines around your clit, circling one of his lithe fingers around your hole before pushing it in, searching for the bundle of muscles that would make you shake. He finds it when you clench around him, and he adds another finger to keep curling into it as he sucks on your clit in earnest.

You're whimpering praises, “good boy”s and “so good”s, as Spencer keeps whining against you and sending shocks of pleasure through your body.

He switches the place of his fingers and tongue, using his thumb to circle your clit while his tongue fucks into you.

Your hand tightens in his hair, a borderline pull, and the feeling of Spencer whining in you sends you over the edge with a curse. He laps at you until you're squirming under him, so you use your hold in his hair to pull him back.

He looks heavenly, your slick and cum coating his mouth and chin as he pants. He smiles up at you dumbly.

“Fuck,” you moan. A pang of guilt hits you as you realize you've been ignoring Spencer's (probably painful by now) erection. You're opening your mouth to offer something when you notice the wet spot on the crotch of his pants. He avoids your gaze when he realizes you've figured it out.

“Spence,” you start, “did you-” He cuts you off with an apology. “I'm sorry, I- You just…” he trails off. You gape at him for a second, shaking your head.

“Don't apologize,” you say sternly. You pat the spot on the bed next to you, sending Spencer scrambling to get up, still blushing furiously.

You grab his hand once he's sat, trying to be gentle. “Do you want to stop?” you question. “No!” Spencer almost yells as soon as the words leave your mouth. “No,” he says again, quieter but just as desperate.

“What do you want?” you question. You like controlling him, you really do, but you also want to spoil him after he made you feel so good.

“Wanna be inside you,” he mumbles, staring at you with those big, doe eyes. You pause for a second- God, he needs to stop saying things that make you pause- before you crash your lips into his, frantically stripping him out of his clothes.

You get him down to his boxers before pulling him into your lap, licking into his mouth for what feels like an eternity. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it's fucking divine. Unfortunately, you do have a need to breathe.

You pull away, touching your forehead to his as you pant. You break the trail of spit between your lips as you move to his neck to bite and suck a hickey too high up to be covered by his collar.

Spencer squirms and whines underneath you as he hardens again. You grind against him in circles, puffing against the mark you'd left. Finally feeling the outline of his dick reminds you of one glaring, unfortunate fact.

“I don't have protection,” you say, moving back from his neck. Spencer bites his lip, fidgeting with the back of your shirt. “I do,” he practically whispers. You nod to give him permission to go grab it, scooting over to give Spencer space to lay down like you want him to.

“Spence,” you say, grabbing his attention from his place at his go-bag. “You want a safeword?” you question when you have his attention. He hums. “Color system work?” you follow up. He hums again, turning around with a condom and a small lube bottle.

You bite your lips at the implication of getting to feel him inside you. “Come lay down,” you invite, patting the space beside you. He comes willingly, settling rigidly as he sets the items on the nightstand.

You move to sit on his thigh, rubbing his chest to soothe him. “I'm gonna ride you. Is that okay, sweet boy?” you ask. He nods, frantic, flushing down to his chest.

You grab his face. “We've been over this, Spencer. Words.” you reprimand. “Yes, please, please.” Spencer slurs, breathing heavily just from you teasing him.

You move your hand to his hair, stroking gently. “Good boy,” you encourage, your other hand toying with his boxers. You look at your hand, then up at him. “Please,” he whines. You lift yourself off his thigh, tapping his legs so he raises them and taking his boxers off.

His cock springs free, red and leaking and coated with his earlier orgasm. He's-

“So pretty,” you whisper, reverent. Spencer's dick twitches at the praise, making you bite your lip. It matches the rest of him, tall and built but also lean. The thought of taking it has you unconsciously grinding against his thigh.

You don't realize you're staring until Spencer whines and puts his hands on your hips to get your attention. “Sorry, baby,” you apologize. You take his hands off your hips and hold them at the headboard with one hand while grabbing the condom of the nightstand with the other. He goes impossibly redder with the restraint, dick twitching again.

You hold the condom up to his mouth. “Can you hold this for me, Spence?” you prompt. He understands immediately, taking it in his teeth as you rip it open. You take the trash out of his mouth and flick it aside before rolling the condom on in a fluid motion that has Spencer bucking into your hand. You hold his hips down once your hand is free, a scolding expression on your face.

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbles. Your face softens. “It's okay, sweet boy,” you croon, “just be good for me for a bit more.” He nods frantically, an almost pout on his face.

You let go of his hip and his hands to grab and pop open the bottle of lube. Spencer whines from the lack of contact. “Shh,” you soothe as you squeeze lube on your hands, throwing the bottle somewhere in the mess of clothes on the floor before stroking it up and down his cock. He shakes with the effort to not buck into your hand this time.

“Good boy,” you praise as you lift your hips up and brace your hands on his stomach. He whines in anticipation.

Slowly, carefully, you sink yourself down inch by inch. Spencer's a mess beneath you, whimpering and shaking with the effort to not thrust up into you. It's a view that you would cross oceans to see, and he's giving it to you willingly.

“Good job, baby, so patient,” you pant as you bottom out and begin to rock your hips to get used to the full feeling. You squeeze your thighs around Spencer's hips, keeping one hand on his stomach and moving the other to pin his hands again.

He whines, impossibly loud, to the point the team can probably hear him since you're all in the same hallway, but you're way too focused on the stretch of Spencer's cock to care.

You take a shaking breath before you begin to move in earnest, going almost all the way up before slamming back down with a moan before setting a normal pace.

Tears prick at the corners of Spencer's eyes before rolling down his flushed cheeks as you move faster and faster, chasing the high coiling in the pit of your stomach, and then-

Spencer gives a long, drawn out whine and you feel the condom fill.

You stop moving, snapping your eyes open to glare at him. He's gone, completely, so you snap in front of his face again to get his attention.

“Spencer, did I say you could do that?” you scold. His eyes snap open, tears still streaming as he shakes his head frantically. “I'm sorry, I'll be good, I swear-”

“No,” you snap, cutting him off as you start rocking your hips again, “that was bad. And you know what bad boys get? Punished.” Spencer starts sobbing in earnest under you, hiccuping around the words he's trying to form. “I can't,” he cries, “I can't, too much, please-”

“Shh,” you soothe as you rock back and forth and feel him hardening inside you, “you know your safeword. You can be good for me, can't you?”

Spencer nods and whines and sobs frantically as you start moving again. With his spent dick twitching inside you and the sight of a man with an IQ of 187 hiccuping beneath you, it doesn't take long for you to cum again. The way you clench around Spencer sends him over the edge too, whining still.

You give Spencer a few minutes, let the tears stop and the fog in his eyes clear before you stand up off of him and tie off the condom. When you go to throw it away, he grabs your wrist. “Don't go,” he slurs sleepily, barely a whisper. “I'm just cleaning us up,” you assure him.

You toss the condom and grab a washcloth from the bathroom, cleaning the slick from Spencer's chin and your thighs as well as the dried cum off of his dick. He's too spent to have much of a reaction to anything, so you have to tap him to get his attention before tossing some of his boxers at him.

“You mind if I borrow something?” you ask as Spencer covers himself up. He nods, too tired for words, and you steal boxers and a sweater before crawling back into bed with him.

You're nearly asleep when he nudges you. “What is it?” you mumble. “Love you.” Spencer says, like it's the most sure he's ever been of anything. You open your eyes and stroke his face, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “Love you too.” you whisper, and it's the most sure you've ever been too.

Spencer spoons into your chest as you drift off, and despite it being so late, you wake up the most rested you've ever been.

#sub spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction

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v3lv3tsin · 1 day ago

Text

bad time, good time: nishimura riki

| pairning: nishimura riki x reader

I genre: fashionmajor!niki, lawmajor!reader

I warnings: no warnings <3

I word count: 1.5k

I stefy's note: i know i should be focusing on the jungwon series but i suddenly got this idea at 3 am (i mean who isn't obsessed with korean convenience stores now lol), so enjoy :)

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

"Towards the middle of the thirteenth century inquisitorial procedure..." You felt your eyes glaze over the page once again, trying to focus on the words once again. Finally checking the clock on the wall opposite to your desk on the right side, to your surprise it showed 2 am.

No wonder why you felt tired in the first place. You've been studying and writing assignments ever since you woke up. Exams were coming soon so you couldn't and shouldn't be waisiting any time. Getting you out of your thoughts was the sound of your stomach rumbling which reminded you of your hunger.

Shit. Yeah. Maybe some snacks and ramen would help.

That's how you found yourself looking at the ramen isle in the small convenience not sure what kind of buldak ramen to have for dinner. Holding tightly onto the plastic glass cup filled with ice and the grape ade plastic bag you tiptoed hoping to reach the top shelf. You couldn't reach the one you wanted, before an arm extended from behind you and grabbed the ramen cup for you.

"Here!" Niki said, handing the ramen to you. Turning around to take the cup ramen from his hand you're met with a pair of brown eyes. The mysterious man was tall from what you could grasp.

Not wanting to stare for longer than expected, you answer. "Thanks." Pausing for a moment, you continue on the same surpirsed tone not expecting him to help you. "You didn't have to." Taking the cup ramen from his hand you take another look at him.

"Carbonara, huh?" Niki asked with a small grin on his face as he looks at the floor, then at your choice of noddles for dinner. It shouldn't be a surprise that you would choose the carbonara noodles since they're the best. Of course.

Seeing your confused face he decides to tease you. "You might need some cheese for that." Niki points at the sides isle hoping to make you understand what he meant in the first place.

"Yeah." You answer realizing that you forgot to get some cheese as buldak noodles are always better with a bit of cheese. Pausing to somehow manage to explain yourself you continue on the same confessing tone. "I totally forgot."

"I'm Niki, by the way." Niki says finally introducing himself, thinking it was high time he does so since you have been talking for some time now.

Extending his hand you take it hesitantly before introducing yourself to him. "Y/N." Shaking his hand you give him a shy smile before turning to leave and get the cheese you talked about until then.

"I guess i'll see you around." Niki adds seeing that you looked almost rushed to be anywhere but here. It was clear that he wanted to continue talking to you, but that was not the case for you.

Or so he thought.

Laying down onto the bed tiredly you open the history book to get back to reading you think to yourself. "Niki." Taking a bite from the noodles followed by a sip of the grape ade you bought moments ago you decide to check his instagram, hoping to at least to find some more information about him. To say the least, you were curious.

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| INSTAGRAM POST - NOV 15th.

niki_kikiki

Liked by wonkiten, byfsjy and 500 others

niki_kikiki ⏱️👔

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wonkiten he's not a baby mandu anymore

icehoon where's my credit

user01 THE SECOND PICTURE?! OMGG NI-KII 😫

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

What the actual fuck? How does he look so handsome? And in a suit also. What's his major?

Taking another bite from the noodles as you decide to check another photo from his instagram hoping to see him in a different outfit and a hint probably of his major. That's when you clicked on the most recent photo that he had posted only to see that it was posted 5 hours ago.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

| INSTAGRAM POST - 5 hours ago.

niki_kikiki

Liked by icehoon, catseong and 1000 others

niki_kikiki 🪩

View all 500 comments

catseong coolest dude i'm so serious

byfsjy WOAHH OKAYY BUDDY OKAY

user02 THE THIRD PICTURE HELLO!?!!!?

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As you were just about to take a sip of the grape ade you boughts hours ago seeing those pictures definetly shocked you. He looked so good. So hot.

Finally finishing your meal after taking one last look at Nikis instagram photos you get the history book that has been onto the bed the whole time. Looking over the pages trying to get back to reading the last word you remember is "Inquisition" before darkness steals your vision living you blind.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Days later you found yourself in the same convenience store looking at the same ramen isle trying to choose what to have for dinner. Shaking you off your thoughts, as you were about to reach for your usual carbonara buldak noodles is a deep voice, almost familiar. Behind you.

Putting his hand against the metalic shelf, consequently trapping you between his body and the isle. "I didn't think i would see you again." Niki confesses in a low voice.

Turning around to be met with the same dark brown eyes from two days ago as you slightly blushed. Tilting your head you look at him confused for a second as you didn't expect to see him either. Especially not at this hour. "Well i'm here." You answer him not knowing exactly what to say.

Coming closer with his body to yours, Niki extends his hand to take two carbonara buldak noodles cups. He was close. Too close. Taking both of the noddle cups into his hand and holding them into his hand Niki finally answers you. "I was thinking..." Pausing for a second to rub the back of his neck as he looked down onto the floor he continues in a low voice. "Maybe we could eat together here."

Holding onto the plastic cup filled with ice and this time, a peach ice tea you looked at him and then onto the floor blushing. One thing was for sure, that you didn't expect to hear him say that. Before you could answer him or at least let him know what you felt about this idea his deep voice interrupts you.

"Here...I meant anywhere, not only here." Niki explains himself to you, hoping also for a positive answer. "We could eat somewhere else." Niki adds as he continues to explain himself to you. Giving you more ideas to where you two could eat together.

"I would love to" You answer him as you come closer hoping to calm him down as you could see that he wanted to continue talking. Looking at what he was holding into his hand you then decide to ask him in a teasing voice wanting to have less tension between the two of you. "Are you only getting ramen?"

"No, of course not." Niki answers before turning around to get a plastic cup filled with ice from the freezer only to be followed by you on his way. While you were walking to the freezer a jeonju bibimbap triangle kimbap caught your eye so you decide to take it. Turning around Niki eyes you before taking the plastic cup and his drink of choice, a caramel ice americano.

"Since we're eating together i was wondering maybe we could get some snacks." He suggests on a shy tone wanting to spend more time with you as the last time he wasn't able to. He wanted to get to know you.

Nodding you follow him to the chips isle where you took different kinds, some that you have tried before, some that you haven't. Laughing about your height was also Niki as most of the times you couldn't reach the top shelf. Finally reaching the register with the basket full of things you and Niki both wanted to try, when you wanted to pay he didn't let you, with the excuse that "it's on him."

It's not a date,right? It's a date. Is it?

Was all you could think of when he decided to pay for the food. Sitting down at the table at the convenience store as it started raining only yours and his laughs could be heard. Niki would mostly tease you about your snack choices or even the simple fact of what games you play.

Your prediction from days was true, he was in fact a fashion major. No surprise there. Niki would talk about how much he loves it because he is able to express himself. Later in the evening you found yourselves walking on the way to your apartment as he especially mentioned that "a girl shouldn't go alone so late at night."

Before entering the apartment, without any warning, you come closer to Niki with the original intent of kissing his cheek and saying "thanks a lot for the night." But he had other plans. That's when you could feel his lips on yours. You on your tiptoes having to reach his height as you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer.

"Wow." Taking a deep breath after he pulled away that's all he could say. "I...." Pausing for a second he rubbs the back of his neck while looking at you before continuing. "I guess i'll see you around."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Days later you get a notification of a post you have been tagged on. Opening your phone, while in the middle of the contract law lecture you're surprised to see a photo of Niki and you, along with two other pictures of him with the outfit he wore that night. You didn't expect that, so it surely surprised you.

It was cute. He was cute.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

| INSTAGRAM POST - NOV 20th.

niki_kikiki

Liked by yourusername, 01boy and 2000 others

niki_kikiki 🌃

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yourusername <3

01boy broo that's why you missed game night

ppysnoo cuties

user03 and now he has a girlfriend

USERNAMES GUIDE:

1. niki_kikiki = niki

2. wonkiten = jungwon

3. catseong = jay

4. icehoon = sunghoon

5. byfsjy = jake

6. 01boy = heeseung

7. ppysnoo = sunoo

#Spotify #enhypen #enha #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #nishimura riki #nishimura riki x reader #riki nishimura x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen niki #niki nishimura #nishimura riki x you #riki x reader #enhypen riki #kpop smut #enhypen smut

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honey-tongued-devil · 1 hour ago

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[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

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thatnonameuser · 2 days ago

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OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG I just read the Azul thought and I totally agree!! It makes me excited to see his breaking point when his contracts are all destroyed!!! AH!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) Can't wait to see him crying and sobbing because all his hard work turned to dust, that he's once more proven to be a pathetic yandere. Outclassed by some like Leona that even MC [A darling!] chose to live and work with Leona more than him. [and on that note: I can also imagine that this memory will make Azul more spiteful with Leona post-ob.]

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

And speaking of Leona!! I also had a thought. Did you know that in the original Lion King, Scar liked Simba's mom? And one of the reasons he killed Mufasa was to have her when he becomes king. I was wondering if you're going to incorporate that? That Leona once thought of Cheka's mom as his darling, and when his brother took her away [Like he took everything else from him] Leona was filled with hatred; In a Leona-centered event, Leona was said to have done everything in his power to prove that he too should have a claim to the throne and that he was better than his brother, only to give up once his brother's reign became secure after producing Cheka. I would imagine yan-au Leona to try and fight his brother for darling, only to lose. And he'd keep fighting, of course, he's nothing but tenacious. Only to have his spirits crushed when it's announced that she's pregnant. [Which you said is an ultimate claim of the darling?]

He went to school late because of that and he stayed there because he didn't like going home [Probably gets sour every time he catches sight of Cheka.] And you said that yanderes can find out that they can mistake a darling to be theirs until they meet "The true one". So will MC be a victim of this "True Darling" schtick? I imagine this can fuel Leona's possessive tendencies. He's already lost once. I doubt he'd want to lose again. [I also imagine he'd be pissed at Riddle and everyone else during his OB, cause they specifically kept MC away as he was "too dangerous"] just a thought dump, hope this is okay?

Don’t worry! It was perfectly okay!!

Azul’s going to want to kill Leona.

After finding out Leona, a strong yandere, sent him back to being a pathetic, useless yandere again with just a little magic is destroying him. And when he finds out you worked with him (you hate him, you think he’s too weak so you chose someone stronger because he’s too pathetic-) well, that’ll just destroy him. When he finds out that you slept in Leona’s bed because of your deal. Knowing that you were wrapped in that beast’s arms for three nights makes his cold blood boil that much hotter.

(Side note - Chad Leona stealing Beta Azul’s girl was a hilarious idea I came up with as I was writing this. I thought I’d share it.)

He wants to skin that lion alive. But if you come to him for any help in getting away from the lion, he’ll do it without a second thought, anything he can do to draw you to him and away from that lazy, oversized house cat.

* * * *

But let’s move back to Leona. But before that, Scar.

I actually did know that Scar liked Sarabi, that’s the name of Simba’s mom, which is why I’ve made her his darling. Scar says in the Lion King that Mufasa was always stronger than him, so maybe Scar tried to fight for the throne and Sarabi’s hand and failed. And because of that it’s one of the reasons he kills his brother and tries to kill Simba, because he wants to get rid of every reminder that he didn’t win her hand originally.

Now back to Leona, he is similar. He originally assumed Falena’s wife, then fiance, to be his darling back when his brother brought her home. She was beautiful, smart and sly. She wasn’t some useless basic princess, she was clever and snarky, noble and strong. Back then, he confused her for his darling. And for good reason, back then he once saw her as perfect.

But as soon as he saw the bite mark on the back of her neck, the love at first sight dissolved into jealous fury. Of course, his brother would try to take everything he ever wanted away from him before he could even try to get it. Like he always did.

Watching him wrap his arm around her, kiss her, and touch her made that jealous burn all the brighter. He obviously tried to fight his brother for her, but while he was given the brains in the family, his brother got the brute strength and he lost. Whenever he tried again, he lost again. He even hoped his brother would fail in the rituals needed for him to marry her, but once again the brute found success.

And then they got married, and then she got pregnant, and after that Cheka was born. And that little ankle biter wouldn’t leave him alone, permanently reminding him about his loss. Going home drilled that agonising reminder into his heart.

But then, he met you.

There’s a saying that if you confuse someone else as your darling, their traits will be similar to your true darling. And you are all those things.

He knew you were his as soon as he breathed in your scent. And he was given his second chance to have his darling. His true one this time. But that’s what makes him so possessive. Fuelled by his animal instincts and past loss, he’s not going to risk losing you.

Regarding his rage at the others for keeping you away from him, he’s definitely pissed combined with the reminder of his other losses. The urge to dissolve them into sand particles for them keeping his darling away from him.

Also……..

Seven forbid Leona finds out Malleus has been spending time with you. Seven forbid Leona finds out you’re also Malleus’ darling. Leona’s not dumb, as soon as he can get you he will.

Better be smart, Herbivore~

#ask #i love asks #yandereverse au #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere leona kingscholar

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caffeinatedmunchkin · 3 days ago

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An Iron Hand in a Velvet Glove

Emmrich Volkarin x Fem!Rook ✦ Rating: M (MDNI!) ✦ 13k words

"Their corpse proved quite stubborn." He presented her an opportunity, and she grasped at it in desperation. "I'm surprised, you're so very good at taming stubborn." Her playful attempt at schmoozing won a stiff snort, and nothing more. "Oh..." Breathed with a coy lilt, she feigned innocence that could have been believable, if she were anyone else. "Are you still cross with me?" Stealing another gulp, he sneered against it's bite. The strength of which smoked his voice to a heady resonant. "Back during your apprenticeship, when you disobeyed one of your superiors, or spoke back at them out of turn; in what manner did they see fit to punish you?" A preemptive attack from which she was slow to recover. "I... got a good tongue lashing." Her words were tight from a throat that fought against their release. "A common occurrence, I might add." "Just as I suspected." After a breath, he then angled a brow down into his drink. "The correction of your behavior falls into my lap after all."

Banner credit

Crossposted to AO3!

I just want to take this opportunity to once again acknowledge and thank you for all the wonderful feedback I received on my first Emmrich piece. All of your praise, engagement, compliments, freak-outs - you name it - have been the single most gratifying, uplifting, validating and humbling experience I have EVER received in all my years of sharing what I’ve written. From the bottom of my little perfectionist heart, you are all in my cool book.

With that said, may I humbly offer this to all you incredibly sexy, gorgeous Emmrich babes to which I’m forever indebted. This one’s for you.

This is hands down the most stressed I’ve ever been to post something LOL

Writing this was a wild oscillation of; “I’m on to something here” and “this is straight trash”. So I either really popped off with this fic, OR, I lost my mind and it’s documented here for all to witness. Regardless, I REALLY hope you all enjoy! *blows kiss for all you lovelies* and to my one super sweet anon, this ones especially for you 😩 you kept the imposter syndrome caged so I could finish this.

Dusk settled over Treviso like a veil. The gradient of a setting sun against the encroach of twilight a dreamlike glow, it stretched across the skyline in a rosy, gossamer haze.

Despite the festering boils of blight, and roving Antaam units, the city was still almost serene. Crickets chirped and nightingales squawked. Music drifted from the odd window, cracked open to invite the warmth of the breeze. A strong city; one too proud to kneel. Too enamored with its culture to bend to the devastation.

Emmrich and Ariadne were dutifully at each others side, while Neve trailed behind to afford them privacy at what she thought was an adequate distance.

The three were on their way to report back to Teia and Viago; their beloved city, and her people, no longer unwitting victims of the Qamakmaster, or his modified poison. The younger Watcher insisted they traverse the more "scenic route" along the canal proper.

In this it's most desperate hour, much of it's familiarity withstood the test of its carnage; sprawls of ivy wove through panels of lattice work. Pockets of lamplight dotted the pathways, their warm flicker reflecting off the lazy churning of the waters they strode beside.

The younger mage coiled herself around his arm like a vine. Content to take in the sights alongside him in shared silence, their physical contact was non-negotiable. She didn't care much for discretion when it came to their burgeoning affair. There were high stakes and grave consequences greeting her at every turn, every decision consigned to her.

She possessed neither the patience nor energy to pander to self-control. Least of all during these scarce luxuries of calm; the lulls between urgency.

She needed Emmrich's closeness. His touch.

Though the elder mage was more reserved in his displays, he bore her attachment with pride.

Still not quite used to the notion that his affections were requited, he couldn't deny the swell of his heart with how candid she was with her own.

How could he protest, when such a pretty thing wanted to be seen cozied up to him? Hanging off his arm like he was some young, and virile stud?

No, Emmrich could deny her nothing. He was weak to her. And by the ingratiating little simpers she'd aim his way, he swore she could smell it.

At times it still caught him off guard, her wild attraction to him, her insistent fawning. The elven necromancer lunged at him like a little lioness in heat, regardless of when or where - or who might be unfortunate enough to happen upon them in the midst.

But it wasn't a habit he felt compelled to curve.

The others seemed largely unphased. Bellara thought their relationship held devastating romance, no doubt drawing on bits and pieces for inspiration to her new craft. Neve adored Ariadne, and Araidne her - the two kindred street rats. He surmised her blessing had more to do with seeing such a close friend so happy, than the bearing of her personal approval of him.

Lucanis was content to get in his subtle teases and knowing smirks whenever he was the first to breakfast in the early mornings. Slinking off with servings for two, looking more than a hint disheveled and stupefied. Taash pretended not to pay attention, though he sometimes caught them initiating a covert high-five when crossing paths with Ariadne.

That left Davrin and Harding as the outliers.

Nothing malicious, Harding would sometimes make remarks that at times seemed innocent, while others were more coy. They all made him squeamish, which he maintained his best to keep polite about.

Davrin's approach was more blunt, albeit good-natured. Chuckling at his own crude jokes; those to the effect of the poor young Watcher abandoned by her parents, and her subsequent daddy issues. And how 'good old Emmrich sidled up to scratch that itch.' All in good fun, they turned his complexion ashen, and rang in his ears all the same.

However none was a harsher spectator than himself.

He'd lay awake deep into the night, with her pert figure sprawled naked atop him. Her shorter limbs curled around his like another one of his jewels, while she slumbered.

His racing mind tormenting him, even in the safety of his post-coitus haze, by the disparity of their years. Or by the stomach-turning truth of their first meeting, one he kept close to the chest.

That this little body that writhed under him in worship to his prowess, that rode him to mutual release while screaming his praises, was the same one that fit in the palm of his hand those twenty odd years ago. An incongruity he could draw because he had done just that. Only once, but the memory was sharp. Punishing.

Every time he reminded himself of that fact, he felt even more ill than when Harding had, rather abruptly and in full company, asked if he was old enough to be Ariadne's father.

It would have made him a very young father to have sired a woman of her age, but that didn't exempt him from that candidacy, he'd have to concede.

Is what he said at first, and a touch too defensive.

Until he did the math, and the realization dawned that it was not only reasonable for a man of 27 to have a babe - the age that he was when he met her, a fresh infant - but that most 27 year old Neverran men did. Some even had several by then.

He hadn't smoked in quite some time, but after that self-confrontation his clammy fingers itched to feel the length of a cigarette dangle between them.

"A pity." He volunteered with a sigh, willing his tortured psyche to rest. The craving for that detestable vice he worked so hard to best now rearing once more. "to see such a place ravaged by the blight. Though I would be remiss not to commend the perseverance of it's romance, despite all it's had to endure. I can only imagine how magnificent the blooms here might have been before."

"I thought you might think so." She drew herself tighter into him, both arms winding around the one she leaned into. To his measured chuckle, she melted.

"Dear girl, do you mean to tell me my accompaniment was requested just so you could hear me wax poetic?" His smile soft and amused. "Do you find me so predictable?"

She gazed up at him from beneath the thick flutter of her lashes. "I had hoped the atmosphere might inspire some of that famed spontaneity from the trysts of your past you've seen fit to regale me."

His gait faltering, he peered down the bridge of his nose at her, gawping at the confession.

He was becoming more adept at swift recoveries from her flirtation. She was almost disappointed in how quick he rebounded from this attack.

"You little jezebel." His reprimand was steeped in such a deep sultriness it burned the tips of her ears, murmured low to keep his words between them. But not low enough. Neve shook her head with a wry grin.

"Why don't I catch back up with you two at The Diamond." Her gaze flicked over them with an impish gleam. "I think you know your way back from here."

Emmrich had forgotten himself, and Neve, swept up in the generous evocations from his little blonde temptress. A profuse apology - and a begged pardon - at the ready, Ariadne cut in on behalf of his mortification.

"Are you sure?" Her eagerness to having him all to herself betrayed by the smirk she fought and lost.

"If I know one thing well, it's to leave the party when I'm having the most fun." Neve waved her hand as she sauntered on ahead. Without looking back, she called to them from over her shoulder with a smile in her voice. "Behave yourselves."

The pair of Watchers paused in a testament of their resolve. Their combined focus trained to the ice mage, as she moved further along the cobblestone walk and rounded the corner of a building, disappearing from sight. Leaving them alone.

Ariadne was the first to strike; hard and fast. Winning a startled grunt from him to the sudden impact of her body colliding with his.

Her arms snaked around his neck, she pulled him down to bridge the gap in their heights. A necessity in capturing his lips, even as she perched on the tops of her toes. Latching her mouth to his, she kissed him deeply, and with hunger.

One might have suspected a long-awaited reunion between the two, if her fierceness was anything to go by. And the loud, exaggerated approval she moaned, as his fingers began their own storm of her figure.

A new fragrance decorated her pulse, one he knew she selected with him in mind. A suggestive mingling of praline and black peony, it pervaded his senses to disarmament. When he breathed, he could smell only her. When he swallowed, he could taste only her.

In one swift motion - careful not the break their frenzied necking - he hoisted her up in his arms, while her legs curled around his waist. Her ankles locked at the small of his back, the little necromancer wrapped herself around him as if she wanted to permeate his flesh. Unable to get close enough.

He walked her the few steps to the banister overlooking the canal below. Placing her atop the railing, his hands were freed to explore. His wide palms roamed her, their paths indicated by the soft jingle of his bracelets, as one settled against the small of her back, while the other trailed up to her neck.

Though he handled her as if she were as fragile as a pressed flower, the placement of his hands were overwhelming with how deliberate. He cradled her with possession.

Her thighs parted to allow his stance between them, tugging his lean torso closer to press up against. Lulling her head back to grant his tongue deeper access down her throat, one hand fisted in the cloth of his robes, while the other made a brazen cop of his length.

Palpating his shaft with intent, Emmrich rolled a grunt against her tongue, both exasperated and needy in equal measure.

"Ariadne- please." His lips numb from her fervor, the corner of them twitched in a smarmy grin at her impatience. "We've made enough of a spectacle as it is."

She gazed up at him like a wild thing; her eyes glossy and lips kiss-swollen, with a heaving chest to match. Looking over first one shoulder, and then the next, she found the streets were calm, and still. The only sound between them were the breaths they exchanged, and the gentle laps of the canal to its revetment.

"You're in luck. There's no one else here now. Only us." Leaning back in to mouth at the jut of his Adams apple, she then tilted back to nip him beneath the jaw. Smiling into his skin as it rumbled with a relenting chuckle.

Peppering a trail of light pecks up and over the cleft in his chin, she sought his mouth once more. "And I've-missed you-Emmrich." Her whispered declaration broken apart by lips that crashed ceaseless upon his.

"I'm-right here, my-darling. I haven't-gone away-" He managed to slip out sections at a time, in the breaks of her assault for breath.

He felt nimble fingers sweep across his shoulder blades, to knot in the draping along his upper back. Her free hand had found the close-cropped hairs at his nape, to comb her nails through the base of his scalp.

Stalling any reservations he might have held, he purred to her attention like a pacified panther. With his guard lowered, she pounced.

"I've missed you inside me." Her hips rocked against him in emphasis.

The little Watcher's words dropped his stomach to somewhere down around his knees. She abandoned his mouth altogether to nose at his pulse, humming in satisfaction at how it quickened beneath the press of her kiss.

The sharp cut of his jaw lured her next, nipping a path along the ridge of bone from chin to mandible. Relishing the deep groan she won for her efforts, and the musk of his aftershave; pine and cedar-wood heightened by the spice of Neroli. Even freshly groomed, stubble was quick to shadow his gaunt cheeks, and she adored the way it caught her lips, and snagged her flesh whenever he nuzzled into her.

"My dear, your enthusiasm flatters more than my words could ever hope to express; but we must exercise some restraint."

She giggled into the open-mouthed kiss that stretched her lips over his high cheekbone.

"Asking me to heel, are you?"

A challenge to his authority, he rose to the occasion with the grace of one who didn't have to force his hand. Submission had been freely given, in offering to receive his lead.

"Not asking, my pet." He increased the pressure of his palm slipped around her nape, scruffing her like an unruly kitten as he pried her off the side of his face to lock eyes. He tried not to dwell on how limp she went in his hold, or the salacious little mewl that squeaked past her lips. "Expecting."

She peered up at him as if in a daze. The hazelnut of her eyes nearly overtaken in full by her pupils, her ferality was softened by the thick lashes she fluttered up at him. His other hand rose to cup her jaw, dragging his thumb down over her bottom lip.

They parted for him in obedience, the pink of her tongue coming to flick over the tip of his digit in dizzying suggestion.

"One of these days, my love, I will be undone by you." He slid the gloved pad of his thumb over the muscle, through her teeth. Sealing her lips around him, she began to suckle whilst holding his eye-contact, his lids now just as heavy as her own.

The gentle pulling of her suction, and the swirl of her limber tongue, were sent straight down to the heavy twitching of his groin. His voice all the hoarser for it. "And it will come to the surprise of no one."

A smile spilled across her face. A retort no doubt at the ready, a distant, hostile shout in qunlat - that presented like an expletive - caused her words to die on her tongue.

They turned in unison to see three hulking Antaam charging their way, their painted faces screwed in rage.

Three warriors against the two necromancers, they untangled from one another's embrace. Offering his hand, Emmrich helped her down from the railing to her feet, as her much smaller one slid over it in acceptance of the gesture.

The roaring Qun's interference offered harsh sobriety, Emmrich's withdrawal from her body heat stung. Not at all dissimilar than if he had plunged himself in an ice bath.

Sharing a brief glance as the assailants advanced, the two Watchers split up to close in before they lost the chance.

The largest of the three, the surmised leader, honed in on Ariadne. Though there wasn't much assistance he could lend, his hands full with the other two.

He made sort work of the first; ensnaring him in vortex of the intolerable hisses and shrieks of damned souls. It pulled him to his knees while he held his ears to the tortured plight they now put upon him. With shut eyes and covered ears that wept crimson, Emmrich turned his attention to the second.

In a display far less flashy, he swept him up in a similar, vicious gust that sent him careening backwards into a far-off trellis, one he had been admiring mere moments ago. The collision saw it splinter into a cloud of wooden slats and mangled greenery. The warrior remained motionless, upended over the wreckage.

Having all but written off the first, he ignored his presence in favor of seeking out Ariadne. Availing himself to her aid had been his desire from the start.

Spinning on his heel he found her, standing above the leader who had begun the process of disintegration by way of concentrated necrosis. Sprawled at her feet, he clutched at his throat in a futile attempt to prevent his gasping breaths from continuing to siphon. The unassuming young Death Caller took a step back, prying her eyes away long enough to catch his.

The beginnings of a triumphant smile morphed into a flash of panic, as her gaze shifted from his face, to beyond his shoulder.

"Emmrich!"

Her warning had sufficed. Whipping his head around with plenty of time, and distance, between himself and the charging Qun, the chipped edge of his blade poised to embed itself in the senior Watchers chest. Stricken blind, it saw him swinging it with heightened aggression, and in a worrying lack of direction.

The situation corrected itself just as quick. One moment he had been staring down the jagged bite of battleaxe, and before he could react, she had taken his place. A violet ripple flickering in the Fade, she then materialized in front of him. Right in the buffer that separated him from hungry steel wielded by an angry, blinded Qun.

Insinuated between them as if to shield him with her smaller, delicate frame. Only by then the warrior had been much closer than before, shortening the distance with his lumbering flails.

Placing herself in much more danger than he himself had been.

An acidic eruption of necrosis sprang forth from her outstretched hands, and not a moment too soon. A plume of murk that enveloped him in unending smoke, the torrent bent to her whim and swirled at her command, as if it possessed sentience.

Curling around his being in gaseous rot, it dissolved his armor with the same ease it did his flesh. Rending him to the ground in a sloughed heap of bone glinting from beneath pulpy tissue.

She kept her eyes trained to the veritable sludge that up until recently resembled a fearsome biped, all the while his bore into the back of her head. Molten embers where placid pools used to be.

How could she be so cavalier in risking what was most precious to him?

The very thing that called the entirety of his pursuit of Lichdom into question; unable to conceive of the loss of her from the remainder of his days, much less having to bear her absence for all of eternity.

A gesture that could have endeared him, his innermost turmoil saw it twisted.

And as much as he didn't want to acknowledge it, it touched on the sensitivity of his age - the tenderest spot. All his frustrations and guilt as of late wove back to that resentful infestation of the self.

Did she think him feeble? Impotent?

It was a curious thing, he never considered himself old before her. Fresh into his fifties, he was just as fit and alert as ever. Even more so then some of the youngest men at the Necropolis.

Softness has gathered in areas where there hadn't been. Aches in his joints persisted for longer than before. The salt and pepper of his hair had since committed to it's silver luster, and his crows feet had decided to stay. Despite all physical signs of maturity, it hadn't stemmed the flow of admirers he'd attracted, both in and outside of his classroom.

Yet when Ariadne all but plopped herself into his lap, he felt geriatric.

A coy glint roused in the hazelnut of her eyes upon noting his bewilderment. Having misread his expression entirely.

"What would you do without me?"

The muscle of his jaw rippled as he clenched it. "An apt question indeed."

His terse grit startled her like a clap to the cheek, quirking her brows.

"What's wrong?"

"Your recklessness." He bit back, frustration narrowing his round eyes to accusatory slits. "Needless endangerment is not heroic, it is inane."

Emmrich had never snapped at her before. Once she thought on it, she realized she had never seen him lose his temper with anyone.

Grappling with a whirlwind of confusion, she latched on to one point of many that insulted her sensibilities. "Needless?" She parroted. "You were seconds from being cleaved in half! What would you have had me do, stand idle to your demise?"

He softened, but only some.

"Do you think, in such a scenario, that I'd prefer you, then, in my stead?"

Hip cocked, she folded her arms across her chest in defiance. "You were threatened, so I acted."

"Yes, you most certainly did." He conceded. "With breathtaking imprudence."

The scar striping her nose disappeared into the adorable, girlish crinkle at the bridge. "I'm no thing to be coddled."

"I'm not coddling, dearest." His anger ebbed into the tired patronizing of a professor lecturing a rebellious student. His inclusion of the pet name had her bristling. "Do you hold self preservation in such low regard?"

"I'll not apologize for wanting to protect you." Knowing full well her spite would only worsen things, she was too aggravated to ponder the decision. "You're very welcome, by the way."

"I'm quite able to fend for myself, my dear." For how dignified he maintained, his ruefulness was just as clear. Splintering his poise like veins through marble. "I've been doing so since well before you were even born."

That sent her eyes back into her skull. "Oh, Maker - anything to bring that up, I see."

"It bares repeating." He stiffened.

"Is that what this is about?" She scoffed, her tone raising to a chirp. "Is your ego so fragile that it's bruised just by coming to your defense?"

His hackles raised despite himself. For how soon he was to forget just how mouthy she was, her attitude was quicker to remind him. As did her penchant for needing the last word.

"This isn't about ego - I'd just simply ask that you abstain from rushing into danger headlong."

Enunciated with the air of someone unruffled, Emmrich had succeeded in snuffing out the spark of his anger before it spread, while hers only seemed to blaze in full swell.

"Are you quite finished berating me like I'm a child?"

"That," he plunged his voice into his chest, his admonition firm. "is contingent on whether or not you continue to behave like one."

Her pupils dialed to points that pierced him. Her pout pressed to thin line, she glared up at him with a suspiciously stilled tongue. He matched her, but with a significant discrepancy in vitriol.

"A necromancer so afeared of his very medium, it reduces him to petty insults."

A hideous thing to say. No sooner did the words escape her mouth, did the tension between them see fit to gag her, but it had come too little too late. Her venom singed him.

Holding her stare, he remained quiet, his uncertainty of how to proceed etched in the deepened lines of his face. All the while, remorse spilled through hers. Gradual and dreaded, like a wound as it bled through gauze.

A sigh then bruised his lungs. "So it would seem."

Her rationale pleaded with her to say something - anything - her owed apology notwithstanding. Her throat locked with a dry, acrid taste in her mouth to the mere thought.

The infestation of her foul mood first needed to be exterminated, before she'd be allowed to speak. Lest she do further damage.

"We've dallied for long enough." While chaste, his inflection had regained much as it's usual strength, and his expression matched his solemn posture. Though he couldn't hide the wistful glint from his eye. Not from her. "I believe it's time we were on our way."

The rest of their time together was condemned to contemplation, and unbearable silence.

By the time they reached The Cantori Diamond, Ariadne had simmered. More regretful of what she said in carelessness, than what had gotten her so hot in the first place.

She thought to try for reconciliation, but her pride - and shame - kept her preoccupied, as she relived their argument.

Her temper had flared, but she didn't mean to lash out so. Her confusion to his vulnerability certainly didn't excuse her indelicate handling of it.

Though Emmrich's state remained questionable.

His frustration with her had been much quicker to cool. A sudden spark of unchecked emotion before he smoothed himself back over, as if his careful disposition had never cracked in the first place. Yet he was still troubled. Still on edge.

Still dismayed by her accusation, and how rash her behavior.

The little elf stole sidelong glances at him on the occasion, brimming with the hope their banter had returned with every breath he took, or sighed.

But Emmrich opened his mouth to broach her not once. So neither did she.

Upon their return, they were greeted by Neve. Waiting for them outside on the balcony, poised with the anticipation of one who bore news.

Her keen observation noted the shift right away.

Mussed hair and disheveled armor, with more than enough guilt between them weighing their repentant expressions. Though she deduced it wasn't from unbridled passion at each other's hands; a suspicion that had everything to do with the space that split them down the middle, and kept them apart.

As they approached her, Emmrich maintained his separation. Holding hands - that never seemed able to resist the cheeky little blonde for any reasonable length of time - clasped behind his back. It raised her brow, but she refrained from commenting.

"Emmrich, Viago's waiting for you. A Crow took down an alleged associate of The Butcher's, and they're hoping you could lend your expertise in getting their dead to talk."

"Certainly." He obliged, at the ready to take his leave of the women, though not before lingering for a moment as he looked to Ariadne.

Expecting her to follow, the junior Watcher never refused an invitation to watch him work - least of all for the opportunity to observe corpse whispering. However she stood in place with no motion to join him, finding herself unable to meet his gaze. His chest caved in with a sigh.

"Until later then, darling?"

She merely hummed.

With the discomfort of that parting metastasized, she at last looked up in time to see his retreating form disappear inside. Shoulders sagging, she turned to Neve, whose manicured brow arched in suspicion.

The young mage looked spurned, as if she hadn't been the one to rebuff him. She cut in before the detective could begin her line of questioning.

"You've got the look of a bearer of bad news."

The taller mage tittered. "Only depending on how you look at it."

"Alright, let's hear it." She urged with a tired grimace.

"The Eluvian's acting out. Bell sent word she won't have it sorted before first light."

Ariadne expelled a lengthy breath. Hands on her hips, she shot her eyes upwards, seeking the strength of some unknown, higher-power. "Great."

Neve's simper threatened to become a full smile. "Aren't you going to ask me for the good news?"

"There's good news?"

"Teia's putting us up for the night." She revealed, implicit slyness alight in her hooded gaze. "I've heard tell that The Diamond's suites are something intimate."

The Watcher's heart fluttered at her friends insinuation, though reality was quick to temper that girlish rush of excitement. As if she'd been so fortunate to have forgotten about their spat so soon.

A turn events that would have been kismet, now it just seemed cruel.

"Oh..." Was all she gave. A weak, resigned mutter, it was a far cry from the reaction Neve presumed. "We could use some time away... that could be good for us."

"Alright you," she sighed, a warmth to her impending patronization. "Far be it from me to pry, but those were certainly not the faces I expected when you returned." Her shift from partner in crime, to sororal confidant complete, she gestured towards the balcony with one arm, while she encircled Ariadne with the other. "Want to talk about it?"

Ariadne stayed with Neve for a long while, probably too long. While she valued the slightly-less-than-impartial insight, she was stalling. Only leaving the comfort of her company after she was all but shooed away to go to Emmrich, and make amends.

Finding their room with relative ease, she had run into Viago on her way - without the professor- having deduced that he retired to their shared suite, and was awaiting her there.

Trying the door knob before knocking, she found it unlocked. A pit had sunken in her stomach at the confrontation that she wouldn't be able to avoid him for any longer, no matter how ardent her attempts.

The unlatched handle was an open invitation, one she now found herself hesitant to accept. Suffocated by the weight of indignity at once more receiving his severe disapproval, she only had herself to blame.

She let herself inside, creeping through the door with as muffled of footsteps as she could manage. Unsure why she even bothered to avoid attracting attention to herself, knowing her appearance was expected.

She found his regal figure stood before a large picture window adjacent from the doorway, bathed in the luminous glow of the moon as it spilled in through the panes. An arm bent at the small of his back, the other held a stout glass of deep burgundy liquid.

The room was every bit as romantic as Neve's implication. Rich sanguine textiles dressed sturdy, ebony wood furnishings, all carved with correlating floral motifs that were as intricate as they were subtle. A handful of lanterns had already been lit; just enough to keep him from the same shadows they whipped against the ceiling, and stretched across the walls. His back to her, she slipped the rest of the way inside.

Her concentration shattered into a wince, at how deafening the latch clicked into place behind her amidst his silence. Though to the announcement of her arrival, he didn't budge an inch.

She waited in the beat that followed, suspended in the moment like a withheld breath.

Unsure of where they now stood, she needed him to be the first to act. She needed him to lead. After an eternity made to stew, he then turned his head just as far as his shoulder, his silhouette heightened by candlelight.

"Darling." Was all she got by way of a greeting, or clue to his mood. His even tone addressed her like the whisper of fine silk shifting over steel.

Dignified and assertive as ever, it both lured her in, and hid away his inner machinations. Her eyes followed his hand as he brought the glass to his lips for a healthy sip.

"Were you able to learn anything?" She tested while remaining by the door, working her cadence into conversational neutrality. Steeling herself to the possibility of a long evening ahead; one cold and lonely.

"Unfortunately, nothing the Crows were not already aware of." He dismissed with a sigh, his attention coaxed back through the window to regard the smattering of stars that smeared the midnight sky, instead of her. "Their corpse proved quite stubborn."

He presented her an opportunity, and she grasped at it in desperation.

"I'm surprised, you're so very good at taming stubborn."

Her playful attempt at schmoozing won a stiff snort, and nothing more.

"Oh..." Breathed with a coy lilt, she feigned innocence that could have been believable, if she were anyone else. "Are you still cross with me?"

Stealing another gulp, he sneered against it's bite. The strength of which smoked his voice to a heady resonant.

"Back during your apprenticeship, when you disobeyed one of your superiors, or spoke back at them out of turn; in what manner did they see fit to punish you?"

Far from the course of conversation she anticipated, it had her reeling. A preemptive attack from which she was slow to recover.

"I... got a good tongue lashing." Her words were tight from a throat that fought against their release. "A common occurrence, I might add."

"Just as I suspected." After a breath, he then angled a brow down into his drink. "The correction of your behavior falls into my lap after all."

Every time she believed she had righted herself on even footing, he staggered her once more, each time quicker than the last.

He now had her pinned and wriggling from beneath his thumb. The obstreperous little necromancer who never knew when to quit.

Who acted out, and prodded boundaries - yearning to know where one ended, and the next began.

He was inundated all of a sudden with the memories of his colleagues, and from not long ago, bemoaning the unruly young apprentice. How stubborn, and non-compliant she portrayed. How impossible she was to reign in.

Emmrich now well understood what she needed. And his was just the firm hand for the undertaking.

She cocked her head at him with a wrinkled brow of her own. "Meaning...?"

To this, he turned to her. At last face to face, she fought the urge to squirm beneath the weight of his gaze. Shrinking away like a frisky cub who had nipped the ear of the panther one time too many.

"Tell me, my dear, do you recall during our first night together, you mused what discipline by my hand might have been like?"

The little elf blinked. Opening her mouth, only for it to fall shut, she then answered lamely. "Yes... I do."

Though his expression was serene, his tone lowered several octaves.

"That mouth of yours has landed you in quite the bind." Without breaking eye contact, he pushed away from the window and strode the short distance to the writing desk that sat between them. "One a miserly tongue lashing will not relieve you of."

Her lips quirked in the beginnings of a scoff, but before the sound could complete itself, Emmrich interjected. His brow lifted in infuriatingly dashing arrogance, his authoritative edge cut through her with a shiver as he made his first demand.

"Remove your clothing. All of it."

A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she crushed that threat upon recognizing his severity.

The young Watcher couldn't help but hang there with a dumb look on her face, only to be shaken from it by his gentle condescension. Ever patient, but grave in unambiguity. "Was there something of my instruction that necessitates reiteration?"

Speechless in reply, his expectant look goaded her to follow his orders.

However coltish her movements, and the beginnings of embarrassment heating her cheeks, she did as Emmrich said. Prying off her boots and shimmying out of the layers of leather and cotton that clung to her legs, all that was left was to shirk the bolero from her shoulders, and pull her collared blouse up and over her head.

A groan seethed from the pit of his chest at the sight of her body naked and flushed.

Teacup breasts that fit so nice in his hold, it was as if they budded to the exact specifications of his hands. The dusky peaks of her nipples hardened to their abrupt exposure. The temperature of the room mild, they stiffened to attention all the same. An achievement he prided himself on.

Her form so fresh and nubile, an ethereal daintiness afforded by her elven features made for an enticing complement to her other, fuller attributes. Decidedly all woman. A slim waist accentuated how wide her hips were by comparison, the observation incited reckless imagination.

Rousing fantasies from the most debauched of his recesses, the sort he'd otherwise be far too ashamed to acknowledge. The age that he was, and the gentleman's demeanor he paid strict adherence to.

His little Watcher wasn't shy. Even as early into their relationship as they were, he had seen her naked plenty. Yet this was uncharted territory; a new, untried side of Emmrich that both thrilled and intimidated her all at once.

Though she rushed to strip at his behest, her hands rose to cover what indecency she could think to shield. The first mistake of many he'd soon scold her for.

"Ah- drop them." His chin lifted, his one brow arched. "Now."

A whimper blossomed in her throat as she forced her hands to her sides. He flicked his gaze over her from head to toe, candid in his assessment of her presentation.

Her timid posture, her fidgeting. That untamed, seductive shimmer returned to her eye.

The appetitive press of her inner thighs against themselves. Done with her body stilled and expression reserved, in hopes he wouldn't catch her.

"Unlike my fellow colleagues, you'll find me to be far less tolerant of such poor deportment." He stood tall across from her, lengthening his gait to step out from behind the desk. "Might there be even the faintest desire to offer penitence, my girl? Are you willing to submit to me your due deference?"

The blush that began at her cheeks flooded throughout the entirety of her body. The skin of her arms and legs pebbled to his crooning, she felt the impulse to rub them from her limbs, but thought better of it.

Pinned in place by his gaze, every part of him seemed to hold her to some level of expectation. At that moment his eyes alone, bright with persuasion, forbade her from touching herself again without permission.

So she opted instead to nod, and he smiled.

"Come." His fingers thrummed the surface of the desk. "You're to lean across here. Hold yourself up by your elbows. Shoulders straight, and head forward."

His cool voice and composure made for an unfair advantage, one that snuffed her resistance like a candle's flame spluttering at the end of a spent wick.

She ambled to the ledge of the desk before bending herself over it, just as she was told. Her elbows met the the polished wood cold and rigid, while the height dug it's beveled edge just beneath her sternum.

Emmrich left her there, perched on the balls of her feet, as he circled her compromised position.

"Spare the rod, and spoil the child." He volunteered with a mournful sigh, as if a sympathetic father who wanted to spank their ill-behaved offspring about as much as the she wanted to receive the spanking.

Only Emmrich was eager to introduce her to such a lesson. As eager as she was to participate, if the full roseate flush that stained her was any indication. "While I feel compelled to disclaim that I do not condone any harm done to children, you are no child. And the principal rings true."

The air fought her distressed lungs. Her struggle only worsened, as he then set his gloves on the desk for her to see. While he remained behind her, she heard the discordant murmur of him reaching for the Fade, before a hush of fraught silence fell over them once more.

When his palm slid over the swell of her exposed bottom she gasped aloud; both at the sudden contact, and how his touch wasn't just warm - it was just shy of burning.

Startled more than uncomfortable, he had her eased into the increased heat before long. "W-what are you-?"

"Enhancing sensation." His explanation as blasé as if he were no more than reciting the dogma of autogenous liminality, he teased her flesh. "Heat promotes circulation, which in turn, will heighten your sensitivity."

His caress was a means to have her more suggestible to his discipline, though it demanded monumental restraint on his end to not insert his fingers inside her.

Her soft, needy sex mere inches from where his touch occupied. His attention on that area, and all his talk of punishment at last culminated in awareness to what the fog of her mind had prevented her from understanding.

"Are you... going to give me a spanking?" Escaping from her in jest, she couldn't help how her tone quavered beneath the weight of the words. A correct response, as he affirmed her suspicion.

"I am. Twenty times to be exact. Does that seem fair, my dear?"

"Only twenty?" Teased her simper apart, the goad of one who hadn't a clue what she was in for. Her underestimation of the kind professor woeful.

Emmrich gazed upon her petite frame bent in half before him with fondness, unperturbed by her attempted riling. Withdrawing his touch, satisfied with the rosy hue he had rubbed to the surface, his next command was as calm as it was cunning.

"You're going to reach out to the Fade for me. Once you have it, you'll want a firm hold."

He soon caught sight of a chartreuse glimmer curl and wisp itself around the joints of her wrists and fingers, as she flexed them against the wood. Slight and fluid manipulation, it then settled against her hands like a second skin, translucent in the moonlight.

She had professed many times how she was awed when watching him cast; an appreciation for their shared art that he found just as delightful in her demonstration.

Where he was precise and rhythmic, she was energetic, and inconstant. The unapologetic rawness, to his innate grace. "Very good. You're to hold that just as you are; you may release only when I permit you to do so."

His choice of phrasing went straight to her clit, as it pulsed in anticipation. The opulence of the room warped fuzzy and tilted to her bleary vision, her blood-pressure spiking to how stern his directive.

"Yes sir." She breathed, lifting higher on her toes, she gave a performative little sway of her hips.

It clenched his jaw until the joint creaked, though as far as she was concerned, he was otherwise unmoved by her bold provocation.

"With every strike, you will count out each one. Should you fail to maintain your cast, or lose count, we shall have to start again from the top." He cleared his throat upon concluding his recitation of her rules.

His voice had yet to pitch any higher than chest deep, and her heart threw itself at her ribs with every agonizing syllable. "Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"Perfectly."

"Good."

His hands settling over her flesh had her breath catch, before it melted into the air in a sigh of relief. Emmrich smiled to himself, his ego fostered by how well she took to his touch. The slightest of his attention quelled her fire, rendering her meek and pliant.

His palms still hot, he stroked and massaged her in further preparation. Any time his finger-tips teased a suspicious descent between her thighs, her hips would rock in precious expectancy.

Finding the sense of security he lulled her to advantageous, his arm snapped forward, doling the first strike.

Nothing too severe, though it wasn't gentle - no where near as gentle as she assumed. A foolish assumption she amended on the spot. The slap of flesh echoing against her ear, she sucked in a stunned breath.

"One."

He had her full attention.

"That was very cute." Chuckled with playful condescension, her body betrayed her as it clenched in conditioned response to his voice. "A promising display of your cooperation, though we have yet to begun."

"W-what?"

"A necessary warm-up, dear girl." He collected his glass for one final sip of brandy, before discarding it back to the desk beside her. It thickened his voice to a confident drawl. "You'll know when I begin in earnest."

Thus began what felt like an hour long rehearsal of what was to come.

Emmrich paddled her with a firm hand, and varied positioning. He maintained a steady pressure, taking care between each one to soothe her stinging flesh by either a tickle, or purposeful effleurage strokes. Her grasp on the Fade came close to wavering, but never enough that he could see it's strength falter.

His insolent little mage harmonized their room with her yips, all the while he drip-fed careful praise to make certain her willfulness remained staunch.

"Such lovely little noises you make." His purr slunk between his lips to her twitching ears. It was all the preamble he spared before the transition from exercise to execution.

His first proper smack ripped the loudest gasp from her yet.

True to his word, she could sense the shift in his intentions by the weight and trajectory of his cupped palm alone. Her body sagged against the desk upon feeling him smooth over the faint pinch of toned flesh.

"O-one." She hushed, humility taking root.

"Good." He cooed. "Very good."

The next was a hair firmer, and her eyes widened as it sent her bobbing across the desk.

"Two." A more permanent blush swelled across her cheekbones, the dusty pink deepening to a vibrant rogue. Her fingers curled against the wood.

Emmrich ran a hand through his coif, fingers combing strands of hair that weren't mussed out of place to begin with. When he dropped his hand, it sailed upwards her rear for an underhanded strike.

Clapping her upside the gluteal crease, he swallowed thick beneath his collar at the way her peachy orbs jostled against the belt of his palm.

A strangled noise erupted from her, like a kitten whose tail he caught underfoot.

"Three-!"

"I must profess, darling, I expected you to put up much more of a fuss." He comforted the newest sting to prickle against her backside. "Surely I haven't silenced that smart mouth of yours already."

She was shocked by how well suited he was to playing the disciplinarian, and she was a fool to be.

Emmrich didn't have a cruel or haughty bone in his body, a fact that she would have attested to until that very moment. It wasn't born in the absence of kindness, so much as it came from his pedantic leaning.

He thrived on order, and protocol. Propriety. Steering her back in line came was as natural to him as regulating a classroom, or commanding the dead.

Now that she had been properly acquainted with this side of him, she couldn't help play the brat. Unable to resist the temptation of his masterful ploy.

"I think you're holding back because you're sweet on me." A lazy grin spread her cheeks, while she braced for the bruising she was all but begging for. "Those hands of yours should have me unable to sit for a week."

"Ah," he almost sounded pleased that her bite was returned, if only to excuse his dialed force. "There she is."

Four, five and six made her thighs begin to quiver. Smacking first up the back of her hindquarters, against their left side, and then the right. Thwack-thwack-thwack. A tingle roused beneath the burning skin, it reached the apex of her thighs, as she wept for him there.

Emmrich granted her a moment to catch her breath. Petting the sting, his praise un-spooled from the seat of his chest near vulpine in it's conceit. His croon cloying and velvet rich.

"You are doing very well, my little darling." Continuing to pet her, he eyed the glow emanating from her fists for any signs of weakness in her tether. "Though it comes as no surprise, I'm sure to you this has all felt little more than a tickle."

His next three blows were rapid fire, coming firmer than she was prepared for, and faster than she could count out in sync.

"Seven-e-eight-nine!" Each one echoed by her shrieks, jolting her higher on her toes while she scrambled further along the desk, as if to escape him.

Ariadne held tight to the Fade, willing her focus as it threatened to recede from her grasp with every hit. He leered down the prominent bridge of his nose at how she pressed her thighs together with a whimper, and shook his head.

"Ah-ah, there will be none of that." He inserted his foot between hers, nudging her legs apart. "Come now, widen your stance."

With much chagrin she allowed herself to be spread by him, as if she had much say in the matter. The senior Watcher was quick to correct her with the lashing that followed.

Proceeded by a rush of air, it was all the warning she was given before the punishment landed with a crack.

"AhH-! T-ten!"

The worst of it by far, and they were only half-way through.

Her flesh ached, the strength of which rivaled only by the emptiness her walls throbbed around. The wetness that webbed between her flushed lips maddened with discomfort, teasing her with a need for friction he kept her from chasing.

Eleven, twelve, and thirteen were slower than the last round, but made up for in their heft what they lacked in speed. The first of all of them to well tears along her lash line, each one threatened to reduce her to sniveling, as she fought to announce their respective number.

If at any point during the punishment a break was needed, it was then.

He spared her no such benevolence.

The length of his hand in full, the heel of his palm to the tips of his fingers, swept in hard to where the tops of her thighs met her glutes.

A sharp clap of flesh ripped its way through the stifling air. It shoved her across the desk, the glow from her hands flickering like a dying flame.

Fourteen. Fourteen! She hollered at herself, but her mouth was too preoccupied with gasping for breath to comply with that vocalization.

Fourteen dangled from the tip of her tongue, but her lips refused her will. She was so close to twenty. The tops of her thighs stinging, the reverberation of his whack throughout her body saw each and every inch of her pulled taut and humming.

"I'll issue one final warning." He intoned, encouraging her to keep count. "Use your words, darling."

"F-fourt… fourteen." Her voice was a strangled, weak thing. A flicker of her wildfire not yet extinguished, it goaded the low, mutter of "masal din'an." to seethe from her before she could even think to stifle it.

Aware that Emmrich most likely heard, a shred of hope blossomed in the shelter of assumption that he couldn't decipher the specific venom, obscured in the elvish.

Time ground to a halt. Everything seized in that moment, even her heart.

Then came the shuffling of feet as he positioned himself behind her, caging her against him as he planted one palm alongside her elbow, and then the other.

She braced herself as he swept in low, his mouth hovering beside her blushed ear. Her skin prickled in a wave down her body as that shelter cast her out into exposure, that faint gasp of hope shriveled and wilting.

In a startlingly fluent timbre, "ma nuvenin" was purred in response.

As you say.

The little elf shivered at the depth and severity of his enunciation. Eyes widening, heat flushed upwards from her neck in a vibrant bloom that stained the whole of her face. The arousal at hearing her language in his voice was almost enough to eclipse her dread that he knew exactly what vulgarity she had slung his way.

"Y-you-!"

Another whack doled to her tender flesh, though one that was sharp as it was stinging. Hollow. He didn't allow the meat of his palm to cup the swelling upon impact, nor did he soothe it with a lingering touch. He rebounded like snapped twine. It was a biting smack, one that had her suck at the air around her for strength.

"Fifteen!"

Before she could offer a weak excuse, he scolded her with tired disappointment. "Honestly, dear, you think me unacquainted with your tongue?"

He adored the sight of her flushed skin pebbling in the wake of this revelation. Though the exact verbiage a little muddled, he was able to parse the broad strokes. Recognizing her off-color assertions of his manhood in no uncertain terms.

"Quite the gamble, speaking to me in such a way. Perhaps I've been a touch too lenient?" He clicked his tongue, crooning with silken fluency. "Mala suledin nadas."

Now you must endure.

She craned her neck to steal a glance at him from over her shoulder.

Head held high and shoulders drawn back, not a hair of him was out of place. His leer shone with en-rapt attention - and a stray glint of gratification - one that had knotted her stomach when she caught it. He chided her all the same.

"Don't worry yourself with what's happening back here." His touch teased a path all the way up her spine to her nape, finding a hold in the ashen locks he wove his fingers through. His grip domineering, he squeezed the roots just enough, her scalp flaring in a sensual tingle as her gaped pout let slip a breathy moan.

He chuckled as he guided her head back to it's position by the reigns of her hair. "Keep your head straight and your eyes forward, dear girl. Your attention should be on your cast. Not on me."

Releasing her tresses, his splayed palm dragged back down the length of her body to flatten over her sacrum, pinning her still with even pressure. Switching to his non-dominant hand, he proved it no less proficient, as it whistled through the air before landing against her raw skin.

She didn't think a bare hand, one that fondled her so lovingly, could also raise welts on the very flesh it revered. The chafed skin of her backside served to oppose that mutual exclusivity.

"Sixteen!" Her voice cracked as she pushed it from her chest, wound tight against the blistering sting, and her tenuous grasp on the Fade.

Holding his hand in its place, the one that had just struck her returned, rewarding her with an affectionate graze to the irritation. "You're doing well, sweet girl. Very well indeed."

She opened her mouth to respond - with what, she herself wasn't even sure - before he came down on her once more, this time back against the top of her buttocks. Blossoming a dull, throbbing ache, it wrenched a pathetic sob, hitching her tally.

"S-sev..seven-seventeen." The light from her fists flickered like the flame of a torch whipped in the wind, warning abandonment. She curled her fingers in tighter, until her nails bite the flesh of her palms. Concentration battled her, as did her waning tenacity.

The heaviness of his hand seared across her rump in a ludic swipe. One that melted the beginnings of a harsh gasp into stretched moan.

"Eight-teen-,"

"That's a good girl, we're almost through." His approval at her endurance colored his baritone, soothing her with the tenderness of sincere praise. "You're doing so well for me, da'len." He hushed. "So obedient."

Little one.

She groaned at the familiar pet name, the elvish intonation deepening his voice to a silvery croon. Their power dynamic already tipped against her, this recent development plunged the scale to weigh heavily in his favor.

She could only imagine the humiliation if he let slip such a name to her around the others - he'd have her blushing as furiously as he did back when she was a school girl, buckling her knees in the same fell swoop.

If he only knew the hold he had on her back then.

"Oh, I haven't lost you, have I?" His attempted diversion successful, she hadn't noticed the rustling of his armor behind her, while he began to disrobe. Leisured, and only pieces at a time. The resolve of man well versed in the importance of pacing.

First the onyx outer layers, and gold plated adornments were placed on the desk beside her. Then a green blur in her peripheral, as his collared shirt joined the neat pile. Now bare from the waist up, it was a tactic to further her distraction. For even at the nineteenth, his next blow startled her. Her sore body jerking forward with a throaty groan.

"N-nineteen..."

Grasping the Fade now felt as though she were trying to pluck a sewing needle from the surface of melting ice with a gloved hand. It dimmed in pulsations like the twinkling of a lightning bug, before steadying itself back to his desired opacity. She expelled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"There you are." He purred. "I was beginning to suspect your mind had wandered; we almost began again from the start."

The final blow plucked a yelp from her, frail as her spent lower half felt.

She was finished.

Ending on the same sweet spot of where her rear ended, and her thighs began, a numbness began to seep throughout the burning muscle in ecstasy. A kindness of her body, having turned the intensity of his pain to subdued pleasure. Admittedly not as delicious, but leagues more tolerable.

"Twenty."

"Yes, dear girl, I believe so." One palm swept an absent-minded path over the swell of her, now thoroughly raw and hot to the touch. "I wonder; was I successful in communicating the purpose of this lesson? Or does that darling petulance within you remain?"

"I... but you said-," her tongue stalled, as sluggish and unreliable in her mouth as it was when she was intoxicated. She huffed in frustration, and tried again. "I did as you said-,"

"An adequate performance, though not wholly satisfactory." He of course teased, but did so believably. "I question your interpretation of this exercise."

"I... I've been good." She croaked in embarrassment to how subdued he had her.

"Have you now?" He mused, his palm sweeping over her like his touch was a balm to the angry flesh. "Only one way to be certain."

He sank to his knees behind her, and swallowed hard at what he found.

He could see how swollen she had grown from his spanking. Burning bright pink, and drooling from between her quivering thighs.

"Oh just look at you." His warm breath misted against her as he rumbled in appreciation. Though he still kept firm to his stringency, his admiration was unmistakable. "I fear my punishment was enjoyed, and rather too much, you wicked little thing."

"I-I, I didn't... I-,"

"Shhh." Mouth snapped shut, her eyes misted despite herself, as he spread her apart in more thorough inspection. His fingers adroit and reverent, as if peeling apart the petals of a tulip in fresh bloom. Wet with early morning dew. "It's of no use to demur, my girl. I see well the mess I've made of you."

Any semblance of a reply she might have been able to articulate was strangled by the obscene moan that erupted up her throat.

Opting against prelude, Emmrich had darted between her shivering thighs to flatten his tongue against her slit. Opening her up to his eager mouth, the agile muscle flicked and slithered along her slick heat.

At his first taste of her piquant nectar, he groaned into her, feeling it's conduction along her aching sex as much as she heard it muffled from between her legs.

An imperceptible pressure bore down around the entirety of her body, squeezing a gasp from her burning lungs that choked it's way out. Ariadne felt his lips curl in a smug grin against her tender folds, before beginning to move them against her in the makings of a deep, impassioned kiss.

He worked her entrance to interrogation. Demanding her noises, and her trembles against his relentless mouth. Intent to find the obstinate little hellion he believed to still be lurking within.

"E-em... Emmrich-," her eyes watering, a mantra of his name poured listless for him. Hoping it served as just recompense.

He answered by creating a seal of his glistening lips around her cunt. Pulling hard, he grunted as she rocked back into his face, constricting in hollow pulsations against the tip of his tongue to encourage it's entry.

To surprise so great it collapsed her against the desk, he granted her request.

Palms snatched her thighs to hold her still, he probed the slick muscle in and out of her weeping center with lethal precision. His girth heavy between his thighs, it flicked against his trousers with impatience. His condition worsened with her every strained whimper, and disjointed stutter against his strong chin. That damnable scruff brushing her sensitive clit, the groomed whiskers of his mustache tickled her to similar unraveling.

Between the steady pressure of his shadowed jaw to rub her bud against, and his lips and tongue orchestrating a devoted composition, he had already dragged her before the crest of her release.

She had indeed done well for him, and to her efforts, a reward was owed.

Emmrich tipped his chin to allow his tongue access to her swollen pearl. Teasing it with feather light pressure in clockwise motion, he closed in tighter with every circle. Weaponizing the vibration of his hums in tandem with his ministrations, she came crashing down against his mouth with little more prodding.

The elf whined with such loud sincerity, he was certain the odd passersby as far as the very end of the walk outside their window, could have heard her without difficulty.

He lapped at her mussed petals, cleaning her up with paternal attentiveness as her full-body tremors relaxed to sporadic twitches. Next came his own maw, smeared and shining with her pearlescent remnants. Licking his lips while he rose to his feet, his sharp brow arched as he looked her over.

"Oh, aren't you a treasure." He murmured in reverential disbelief in catching sight of her persistent hold to the Fade, however weakened. "You may release, dearest, just as you may await me in bed."

Ariadne picked herself up from the desk, and lowered herself to her heels for the first time since the professors punishment.

The very professor who watched with open satisfaction as she limped across the floor, on thighs that still wobbled from his oral dissection.

Emmrich dropped his trousers where he stood, stepping out of them the moment she pulled herself onto the lavishly made bed. Electing to keep herself propped up for him on all fours, he hadn't expressed to her the position he wanted her in, she just knew. She could read it in way she felt his leer rake across her, dutiful in her presentation to him on her hands and knees.

He had never been so assertive with her before, least of all with such determination. His dexterous hands bruising in their strength. His height wielded to impose, like he had something to prove.

She hazarded a glance at him from over her shoulder.

A lean athleticism to his tapered physique, his regular, early morning cardio showed in the toned ripple that carved through the length of his abdominals.

Obliques tensed, his traps pulled taut his broad shoulders as he held himself erect before her admiration.

A dusting of silver hair between his pectorals, they mapped down his linea alba, coaxing her gaze down with it to arrive at the soft thatch beneath his naval. That handsome iron trail lead further, not that she required any additional incentive to seek what waited lower still.

His engorged length bobbed upwards in a slender curve towards his abdomen. A bead of precum at his tip, he quirked in gentle pulsations from between his thighs in wait.

He didn't permit her too much indulgence, beginning to make his way towards her with the sort of noble confidence only afforded to one who knew how he appealing we was to his lover. One who maintained exceptional care of himself, and knew his efforts were appreciated.

She wasn't left to her lonesome for long. Joining her at the edge of the bed, he grabbed her by the hip-bones to yank her up, and back to meet his groin. One foot planted on the floor, he drew his knee up on the the mattress. Dropping his pelvis to grant them the deeper angle they both knew they needed.

Grabbing himself roughly about his swollen base, his patience lasted only for as long as it took him to align himself with her soaked folds. Pushing through them with his tip, a whine dislodged from him with the guttural timbre of an animal claiming a compatible mate.

By the time Emmrich sank inside her, just to the point of where curve of his head blended with his shaft, he was completely gone. Head tipped back, a wet and strained noise of fervor sprang from the back of his throat.

Her tight velvet sheathed him one agonizing inch at a time. Even with her lubrication he still hurt her; unable to hold himself back once he felt that initial, hasty stretch of her walls. A growl seeped from his depths, knotted and yanking inward, as her muscle squeezed at him with her own greed.

He was able to will himself still for long enough to allow her time to adjust - a decent girth, he was longer than he was wide when swelled in full. A lot for her small frame to take, slotting himself to the hilt saw him bottom-out in the same motion. A gasp tugged itself from the tender depths of which his cockhead just battered.

The noises he made when he buried himself within her never failed to tighten her around him. Like a reflex, his groaned relief only worsened her need for her own.

This time had been different. He didn't experience relief. He didn't feel satiation from her plush heat kneading his heft. It only worsened his withdrawal. He wouldn't know contentedness until he split her open, and burrowed as far inside her as he could.

"You'll be the death of me, my girl. Gripping me like that," he sighed, relishing the way her core both fought his intrusion, and spasmed wider in frenetic accommodation. "Whimpering, as you are."

Long, spidery digits dug into the firm flesh of her hips for purchase. His chest felt tighter with every breath he relied on to steady himself, to keep from pistoning his hips too hard, too fast. Though her previous defiance tempted half his mind to handle her with such aggression.

Hoarse, full-body pants drooled from him like a sick hound as he began to work himself inside. Fluttering her delicate velvet as he stretched her down around his length, using her hips as both leverage for his slow, too-deep thrusts, and catharsis for what still swirled within him.

The lucidity he had been able to maintain all that time had dissolved just like that. The confines of her slobbering muscle pulsed around him with the suffocating tightness of a woman who sought revenge. Even with how thoroughly she had been broken in, her body reaped retaliation where it could.

It saw his initial thrusts ragged and uneven. The little elf had him sloppy.

"E-em-aHh-!" Ripped from her as he picked up his pace without warning. His taut musculature rigid as he leaned into his momentum, it didn't interfere with his perfect posture, even as he began to drill.

"You're infuriating. No one's ever gotten under my skin quite like you, little Death Caller." His divulgences near frenzied, he suddenly switched his hold on her to clip his hands around her upper arms.

Hoisting her up abruptly, he took from her the hold she had on the duvet. He was all that kept her from falling face first into the mattress. "You haunt my thoughts. I'm unable to rid myself of your smell - how insufferable you are, so arrogant and so effortless as you undo all that I am, all I have striven to become."

Any and all quips or pleas died against the back of her throat, strangled by the shrill yelps from the sheer pressure of his hips snapping against her. Pinching her with his grasp at the crease of her elbows. Locking her against him, while he rode her out with harsh bucks. A single strand of his hair broke free from the pomade that held it in place.

Her bottom still tender and throbbing, it didn't appeal to his mercy to lessen his attack. He was too enamored with how the swell of her fit with his groin, his slick length disappearing into her pretty pink folds with every snap.

Emmrich had always made love to her. Thorough, and meticulous and bursting with tender affection. This time wasn't like that. This was an assertion of his dominance. This was a reminder of her place.

This was a fuck. Pure, and plain as day.

His stamina was a thing to behold, but he had been stretched ever thin since their evening began. Bouncing her up and down his shaft made quick work of his strained resolve, the whispers of his climax pulled at him with neediness reminiscent of his young lover.

"Tell me, my pet." He huffed, his skin prickled at the tightening of his scrotum. Threatening the burst of his dam. "Where would you like me to-"

"In-side-me-!" The demand made breathless and choppy, his unrelenting force stilting each syllable.

He had only ever finished on her; the small of her back, the protrusion of her clavicle, one spur of the moment rendezvous that left him with the visual of him dripping down the quirk of her victorious pout. All at her behest, she had never asked this of him before, and he'd never dare suggest it.

Of course she'd ambush him at such a pregnable moment, when he felt more animal than man. Liable to unwise decisions in his haste to exorcise whatever had possessed him back at the canal.

He shut his eyes tight to her plea, as his stomach flipped over with blunt force. He knew better than to be so irresponsible, and yet-

"Ariadne." Grunted low in warning. "I'll not last much-longer-,"

He hadn't been with her long enough to gauge the risks, unfamiliar with both her cycle, and the strength of her fertility. He hadn't the time to weigh that potential cost, as her wanton mantra of please please please sent the necessary blood blow from his brain to the strain between his legs. As if he could erect harder than he already was.

"Please! Please inside me-please-,"

Her temptation was far greater than the meager shred of resolve he clung to. Her depths were so warm and snug, tugging him in deep and then deeper still. Fluttering around the heft of his cock in frantic coercion.

To feel him crowd against her womb. To leave her feeling full. Of him.

The pressure behind his eyes began to swell, prodding his paper-thin restraint. Pushing him to devolve to his most base biological motivators.

He might have been an older man, but he was still just a man, after all.

Without a hitch in his stride, he released one elbow at a time, snaking her around the abdomen with one wiry arm, he snatched her beneath the dainty cut of her jaw with his other hand.

Bending her head back, he curved over her like a viper. The extra height he had on her allowed him to look into her eyes, manhandling her like a rag doll as his thrusts increased momentum. Reaching new depths with his penetration, signaled by the crude joining of wet flesh. More loosened locks fell into his darkened eyes, further obscuring the man she knew.

Ariadne was mounted by beast who borrowed Emmrich's skin. His touch was known to her, his smell was right; but the force that pummeled her into submission she already surrendered long ago was a force she had yet to reckon with.

His rhythm faltered as she fluttered her lashes up at him, her feline gaze pleading, drunk on his speed and ferocity. Her throat purred beneath his palm with her strangled groans and whimpers, each one sent straight to the knot in his scrotum, uncomfortably tight and twitching.

The jut of his hips canting at a wicked pace, one that telegraphed his crescendo, every withdraw of his veined girth had her keening from the loss. Even from the fractions of a second it took before he thrust back in.

He was only vaguely aware of the depravity that sloshed out from over his neat lines. His crisp presentation crumbling, his mindful respectability now a memory. His view of her full hips unobstructed, her abused womanhood raw and stretched around the brunt of him was all he could subscribe to. The molten ache coiled in the seat of her pelvis cranked tighter and tighter with every nudge to her womb.

A shred of his pride remaining, it was enough. Enough to prevent him from spilling his less savory fantasies, as his tongue tangled a growled litany of English, elvish, and a language unfamiliar to her ear.

An indecipherable proclamation of just what her desire for unprotected copulation did to him, she caught it in fragments only.

Anvallenim, nadas, mamae, and his repeated use of da'len all struck at her with sinful awareness. Each word recognized twitched her ruined cunt around him. Filling in his gaps, enough to betray what he had so thinly veiled.

Somewhere through her mottled stupor she supposed that was by design. To impart his shameful urges without having to face the mortification of hearing himself voice them.

Her perfect gentleman, near unrecognizable with the sheer magnitude of his abandon.

His grunts of elvish and their implications proved to be what brought her to the edge, feeling her seize around him as she fluttered in her tell-tale crest. His tip continuing to jab the spongy patch inside of her his digits had finessed with ease. The way the tine of her right ear gave a little twitch, a call for assistance; all she needed now was a push.

"Come for me, da'len." His grandiloquent embellishment stripped, he commanded her stern and chest-deep. "Come for me."

That broke her.

And she had already been broken from the start.

A release heavy and throbbing, the coil in her stomach sprang loose, scorching her in undulation from the inside out. Fresh wetness dampened the corners of her squint, Emmrich continued to ride her through it. Massaging himself against the clenching ridges of muscle, that wrung him out with every contraction.

"This body of yours, your youth-," he huffed through grit teeth, feeling himself drift further away with every rut against her she had no choice but to take. Yielding to him like she never had before. "-leads my mind to wander to... dangerous places."

"I- l-like you- ...dangerous-," she managed to pant out in pieces. "Please Emmrich - claim me. I want you vulgar and selfish and messy and-,"

Flush against her prenatal chamber, he released.

Without the constraint of reason or dignity, he spent himself with a sharp grunt, his distinguished features screwed up in both elation and regret. His polish had tarnished and dulled, and all for her to witness.

Coating her depths with his seed, and the nagging horror that they could absolutely take root. Yet he could hardly keep his head level, let alone acknowledge such probability. Attempting too proved as successful as pinching a tendril of smoke between his fingertips. Dispersing into oblivion the moment he made contact.

The knots of semen worked their way through his girth, loosening the tension from his bowed shoulders and furrowed brow a little more with each spurt. To his flooding of her sex, she offered tender mewls of repose.

As the blinding ebbed to allow for his good sense's return, he shook like a wet hound. Stuck to her backside, Emmrich was ginger in his movements as he went to withdraw from her blessed center.

She whined in what presented like drunken protest, pawing weakly at him to keep him still, and sheathed to the root inside her. He shut his eyes as he felt the thick viscosity of his spend leak from where their sexes meshed, the sensation stirring lazy kicks of his half-hard cock against her tender walls.

Coiling his arms around her middle to lower her down into the mattress on her belly, he followed her; his softening member still nestled within her sticky heat, as he collapsed half on top of her. It almost could have been spooning, had he more cradled her than crushed her.

Not that she minded at all.

"Mm-mmrich?" Slurred by drowsiness and lousy with satisfaction, the lure of unconsciousness pulled her further and further away from him.

"Yes-," he swallowed his hoarseness, already beginning to rid the evidence of what he had transformed to during their union. "Yes, love?"

After a pause so long he thought her out cold, she then offered; "Your insults aren't petty." Her voice so small he almost didn't hear. A crooked grin curled his lips into her sweat-dampened hair. Her candied musk faint, but lingering.

"No?"

"They're first-rate." She sighed, as if given in grudging propitiation. "Peerless, as you are in all your fields of expertise."

I'm sorry.

Her stroked his thumb along her exposed scapula, seeking to tame her trembles. "An accomplished denigrator, and an old fool. You give me far too much credit, little love. Something I do not grant you near enough."

As am I.

Her breaths deepening, they shared the silence as she soon drifted away. With much care in his handling, he slid his arm beneath her and flipped them, drawing her to his chest where she belonged.

Sleep wouldn't call for him, not for some time. He was still too keyed up from what she had managed to rip from his depths. A mess she made, one she left for him to clean up.

He raked his knuckles up and down her spine, a motion that served to calm him, more than it was for her. When that no longer occupied him, his fingers crawled for her hair. Her bun had fallen out at some point during their tousle, but he couldn't recall when.

Emmrich stared up at the ceiling, his eye following how the sparse candlelight threw the shadow; flickering and twisting the source, it reminded him of how the Fade took to her. How she held it for him, even as he passed her through the maelstrom of release.

His yearning for a drag flared anew, it squirmed in his slender fingers. Aching for a cigarette, but one with the filter bitten clean off.

Tagging as per request: @goddessnyx216

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