#i like how shapely they both turned out... :]

[tenowls]

rivals

[tizeline]

TSAU!Donnie's Ninpō Explained!

The first ability Donnie unlocks is the ability to see mystic energy! Objects or people with with mystic energy has this colourful glowing aura you could call it, the more mystic energy the more brightly is glows. For example - Mikey already has a very bright aura naturally, which becomes even brighter when he is actively using magic! ..... All of this is to say, Donnie found that out the hard way when he used his mystic sight on Mikey when he was using magic and Donnie as a result got a little bit fucking blinded!

All yōkai and mutants are naturally mystic in nature, they always have a visable aura because of that. Humans are not mystic, so they don't have that aura. HOWEVER! Humans can learn how to use magic through certain means like, y'know, Ninpō for example! When a human uses magic, they do have mystic aura, but only while actively using mystic powers.

(Also Donnie totally accidentally discovered that the "teapot" had bad vibes because his mystic sight lol)

After a while Donnie is able to start making constructs out of his Ninpō. Initially however, he can't really form complex designs, it's mostly just blocks and walls, very simplistic shapes. But it turns out he can use these simpler constructs as effective shields! Which is good considering his soft shell as well as the fact that his battle shell in the AU wasn't built to be used as armour. Both he and April gets a lot of use out of the extra defense.

With quite a bit of practice Donnie is able to actually generate specific and more complex designs! Which means that yes, to the horror of friend and foe alike, Donnie can and will summon an entire arsenal of firepower, yikes. He's not limited to firearms though, he's able to generate all kinds of technology and machinery (drill!!!!)

To create these mystic contructs, it does require Donnie to have a good understanding of what it looks like, how it functions, etc. His imagination and his knowledge of technology are what sets a lot of the limits on what he is able to create, if he can build it in his lab then he can build it with his Ninpō. This particular ability requires a lot complex thought, if Donnie wasn't so smart he wouldn't be able to pull it off as well as he does.

Another limitation is that maintaining the contsructs is very energy-consuming, he'll quickly exhaust himself if he keeps them around. He'll usually only summon constructs very briefly for an attack and then immedietly dismiss them.

The way that Donnnie's Ninpō manifests itself is already very technology-oriented, because of that he can interact with ordinary technology through his Ninpō. Personally I haven't figured out the details of what exactly that can look like, but there's definitely a lot of possibilities to explore here.

One thing though, as Donnie's Ninpō grows more and more powerful overtime, a side-effect of that is that if he gets really pissed off or otherwise very emotional, he'll accidentally make the technology in his near viscinity go haywire lmao. (This has the risk of making him even more angry, which just worsens the problem, and so on haha)

I really like the idea of Donnie being the second most powerful mystic user out of his brothers, after Mikey of course. And because he's mostly self-trained, he doesn't have the best understanding of how to properly control his powers, which evidently can become a bit of a problem. Donnie eventually agrees to let Draxum help him get a better grasp on his mystic abilities after the Hamatos and the Draxums become more friendly with each other.

So uh. About how Donnie kinda accidentally infused Shelldon with mystic energy while creating him which caused the robot to develop a kind of soul? Yeah so because of that Shelldon's mystic energy if linked to Donnie's, which means that Shelldon more or less gains access to the same abilities as Donnie does! He's not quite as powerful as Donnie, and he still needs to practice to fully get a grasp on these powers as well. But point is, that's how Shelldon gains acess to Ninpō in the AU! (He also notices their fucked up "teapot")

----------

Anyway that basically summarizes it! A lot of these ideas are headcanons I have for canon!Donnie as well honestly, the AU is just an excuse to explore these concepts. Donnie's ability to summon fucking firearms and military equipment is also something I've thought about, I wanted to try to think how it would work for him while also putting some limitations on it. ANOTHER THING I like the idea of Donnie's tech constructs basically being the same ability as when Raph creates constructs of himself. The difference lies with that Donnie is a massive nerd so his first instinct is to recreate his own tech with the Ninpō. While Raph being someone who is already so physically strong would naturally use his Ninpō to recreate his own greatest weapon, which is himself. (Donnie uses his brain, Raph uses his brawn, who would've guessed)

[toxicanonymity]

I am humbly crawling to your page to confess my latest obsession: serial breeder!Joel.

no outbreak!universe Joel without Sarah, an old creep who lives in a lone house where every woman goes to get bred.

basement breeder

joel miller x f!reader, 1k words

Ty for sharing this delicious thot. Almost sounds like you know who 🍃 in another life where he does have them coming and going at all hours like the gossip says. Standalone. 18+ PWP imagine, break-in, manhandling, breeding piv, degradation, praise, mating press, carries you, pet names.

Imagine going there to get bred while you're consciously on birth control, and he gets obsessed with impregnating you specifically. You show him a positive fertility test, and he gets more aggressive. God damn, he's gonna make this work. Meanwhile, you don't seek him out the next time you (would) ovulate, and he notices, wonders if you're giving up or letting some other guy take a shot. That ain't gonna fly. . .

He quietly breaks into your dim basement while you're folding laundry on your dryer, wearing earbuds. From behind, a hand clamps over the lower half of your face. You scream into his massive palm while his other arm wraps around you, biceps bulging, stretching his white tee. He pins you against the dryer, and the warm, hard shape you feel through his pj pants sends a rush of need to your core.

With you pinned there by his clothed arousal, the arm around you falls away. His free hand brushes the shell of your ear then nudges your earbud out. He reaches to repeat this on the other side, then wraps his arm around you again and gives your breast a squeeze. He brings his mouth close to your ear, and his voice is deep and low. "Stayin' home like it ain't the most important day'a the month."

Oooh, is he mad? God, he's hot like this.

When you struggle, he adds, "Or *did ya* stay home? ... You some kinda cumslut now?"

You subtly shake your head 'no', with your nostrils brushing against the edge of his hand.

"Nah," his hips push forward, "you want this cum," he grinds.

You go quiet and relax your body. He thrusts against you at a slow rhythm, and you're getting wet. A little "Mm?" slips from your lips into his palm.

"Yeahh, that's right," he continues, "Want it bad, don't ya, pumpkin?"

"Mm," you just barely nod.

"Good girl," he says and takes his hand away from your mouth.

You clear your throat. "I was just tired."

"Tired," he laughs. "That's a good one."

He's normally good about foreplay--with you, at least - your body and your scent turns him on so bad. His hands are incredible, and he touches you just how you like it. He's even been known to bury his face between your legs. But this time, he's fully on a mission.

He hikes up your skirt and pulls your panties aside, then spits on his hand and pats the saliva between your legs.

"Ooh," he reacts to your warm, wet cunt against his lingering hand. "Didn't needa do all that, did i? Shit, you're always ready for me." He tugs down his pj pants, then his warm, smooth cockhead prods at your cunt, smearing precum into his saliva and your desire. You bend forward and rest your forearms on the clean laundry abandoned in front of you, then scoot your feet back to give him a better angle.

"Good girl," he whispers.

He buries his length in you with a groan, and your insides spread around his girth. "I'll knock ya'up, baby." He holds your waist, and with a punch of his cock he bottoms out, "Ahh." When he withdraws a few inches, you spread your feet, tilt your hips, and push back on him. "Hell yeah." He bottoms out again, then grabs your hips with both hands and pounds you.

He's on a mission - he's not trying to make it last. And he's been aching hard ever since he got it in his mind to do this. He was palming himself over his pants for relief as he walked up to your basement door.

He's giving it to you hard and stiff, weeping precum into your poor stretched hole with every powerful thrust. "Yeah, take it, baby," he breathes, and promises, "put a baby in ya," making you twitch and throb, close to bliss. When he picks up the pace, pummeling you near jackhammer speed, his words are broken by his rhythm, "ahhh, yeahhh--- cum on this cock." When you whine he says, "yeahhh, you want this cum," and you see stars.

You unravel and moan his name, feeling your face heat up after it slips out.

"Fuck yeah," he breathes, pounding you through it.

He abruptly pulls out, and you whimper at the loss. You start to protest, but he takes your panties all the way down, leaving your twitching pussy bare. He forces you around to face him, then bends his knees and you put your arms around him as he lifts you. You wrap your legs around him, and he sinks you onto his stiff cock, letting out a grunt as he bottoms out. After adjusting your weight, he walks you to your nearby bed. With each step, your clit rubs against him.

He lays you down and folds you into a mating press. His thrusts are hard and deep. "ungh," he grunts, "yeah," another thrust, "ohh fuck, " he bottoms out and throbs, warmth gushing into your depths. "God damn, baby." With another hot burst, he deepens the mating press, determined for his seed to take. Your thighs feel a deep stretch. He hovers over your face, and a drop of sweat hits your cheek.

Breathing heavily, he inches back then thrusts forward again, repeating this action a few times as his balls empty. The last thrust ends with a sigh. With his work done–for now–he stays inside and keeps you in the mating press. He wets his lips, admiring your face. “God damn, you look hot like this.”

"yeah?" You reply.

Nodding slowly, he dips his head and scans your body with hungry eyes. He can't help but pull his hips back an inch to admire the sight of your cunt spread around his fat cock. And God damn, what a sight. Not planning on pulling out any time soon, he fully sheathes himself with a low, soft grunt.

"shit, I oughta clear my schedule," he muses, glancing up from where your bodies are joined. He subtly nods and shifts his eyes around as though thinking it over, rocking his hips absent-mindedly. "Yeah," he concludes, "if this don't take ... take ya to my place 'til it does."

--

--

--

Basement Breeder Adjacent

Night walks Joel has breeder energy but only with reader.

For breaking into your basement, Sleeping Beauty - CNC home invasion / somnophilia with another night walks doppelganger.

For serial breeding, a post-outbreak one shot, the old fashioned way, a different Joel and he's a real professional, not a creep.

TYSM for reading, friends. And truly, thank you for your engagement and support. You're a light in my life when it's in shambles lol. Love y'all 🫶🏼

[mistymysticalmoon]

Frosty Morning

･ charles leclerc x reader ･

prompt: (fluff) on a snowy monaco morning you and charles enjoy a cozy, sweet moment together, cuddled up with léo and tangled in sheets.

warnings: none

wc: 800

a/n: leave a request inbox is open!

masterlist

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The warm sunlight broke through the curtains, melting away the frost on the window and pulling you from your dreams.

Your eyes flutter open, met with a light snow, a rarity in Monaco, which made it all the more beautiful.

It was finally winter, which meant fuzzy socks, hot chocolate, Christmas, and, best of all, winter break.

After a tough and exciting season, you and Charles could finally have time for yourselves. It had been a year since you'd both said "I do" in the serene south of France, surrounded by all you loved and adored. Your honeymoon had been long and amazing, but right after that, it was back to work for the both of you.

You had both yearned for each other in your time apart and now that you were together you intended to make the most of it.

You softly turned on your back, careful not to wake your sleeping husband, knowing how much he needed this rest. At the end of the bed lay Léo, comfy as ever sprawled out and lightly snoring. You shift, making yourself comfortable to gaze upon Charles’ unconscious face, his hair disheveled and his lips slightly parted.

He looks so peaceful, so perfect. You can't help but reach out, moving a misplaced hair from his eyes.

"Mmm," he stirs, nuzzling his face into his pillow before faintly opening his tired eyes.

"Oh, sorry, love, I didn't mean to wake you," you whisper, feeling guilty for selfishly stealing him from his sleep.

"Morning chérie" he smiles, reaching for your face.

You smile back at him, leaning into his touch and returning the greeting.

"Good morning, how did you sleep?"

"I always sleep beautifully when you're here, mon amour." Charles coos.

"Mmm, is that right?" you tease snuggling up to him.

He nods, chuckling deeply as he wraps his arms tighter around your frame, holding you impossibly close.

"I missed you, so much" you mumble into his chest.

He pulls your face up to his, bringing his lips to yours in a deep, meaningful kiss. You moan into his mouth, your fingers tightening around his bicep to steady yourself.

"Fuck, I missed you, baby, you have no idea," he murmurs against your lips.

"Mmm," you hum in accord, your fingers snaking into his hair, pulling softly just how he likes.

He pulls away only when he feels he needs air, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead and little pecks all over your face. You giggle at the sensation, play fighting him off before returning the gesture, also leaving him in a fit of giggles.

You sigh in contentment, looking over your husband's face, having missed these simple times when it was just you and him in your own little world away from all the racing and media and championship titles.

Just your Charles.

"You're so beautiful, mon cœur," Charles whispers, moving a strand of hair behind your ear. You giggle as you nuzzle your face into the bed, feeling a sudden shyness at his compliment.

"Amour, let me see your face, come here." He pulls your face up to his view, smiling and caressing your cheek and your cuteness.

"Thank you," you whisper, looking down at his chest where your fingers trace imaginary words and shapes.

He smiles at your shyness, finding it endearing. He leaned in to nudge your nose, his hand reaching up to cup your jaw, pulling you in closer, Your eyes fluttered shit as his lips met yours in the softest of kisses, his thumb brushing your cheek as you melted into each other.

It was a simple kiss, but it said so much.

Charles was slow in pulling away, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before you were burying your face in his chest, his arms pulling you in closer. You felt such love and tenderness you could burst, tangled up together with the one you loved in the place you called home.

Suddenly, a quiet yelp was heard in the room, pulling you and Charles from your intimate moment. Looking toward the end of the bed, you see Léo making his way up to the two of you, having become restless and needy. "Good morning, Léo, my love," you coo, beckoning him by patting the space between you and Charles.

Leo excitedly makes his way over, wagging his tail and getting straight to greeting his two favorite humans.

"Vraiment Léo?" Charles exclaims as the puppy licks over his face, causing you to burst into laughter at the adorable scene.

"Someone's excited to see us this morning, aren't you, Léo?" you giggle, petting his small frame as he makes his way over to you, now attacking your face with doggie kisses.

And so you spend the frosty winter morning like that, snuggled up in bed with your two favorite boys, overwhelmed with kisses.

[dipperscavern]

Okay your post about Cregan being a father has got my little heart growing three sizes and I'm even more in love with this fictional man.

I do wonder what your take would be on how he'd react to a partner's interaction with Rickon, his one year old son in the books during the dance.

Your posts are giving me life though the new season is disappointing me. ❤️❤️

Hope you are having a wonderful day!

An in love witchy anon. 🌒🌕🌘

omg stop :(( it could even be something small, like teaching rickon how to make and throw a proper snowball.

you had grown up with siblings in the north — and both hands weren’t enough to count the times you had an all out war the day after fresh snow. walking back indoors afterwards, sitting round the fires’ hearth while recalling with laughter how your brother had slipped on ice, or how you and your sister had managed to sneak up on your eldest sibling. yes — snowball fights were something all northerners looked back on with fond nostalgia.

and with or without siblings, you intended for rickon to learn all about such matters.

i can picture it sooo vividly. you and cregan, freshly married, going about your separate ways during the day — and him stumbling upon quite a sight in the afternoon.

perhaps he wanted to spend the small free time he had with rickon, or you for lunch. perhaps it was just coincidence that brought him upon the courtyard the day after fresh snow.

but here he was; and here you were.

rickon, giggling madly as you shaped the snowball in his small hands. cregan could hear your voice, laced with childlike glee, ordering your sworn shield to remain still. if brought before the gods, cregan would attest to the twitch of the knights lips — to the faint smile upon them.

it is a clumsy throw, brought about with untrained muscles and even less coordination. but your knight remains dutifully still, and it lands upon his lower visage.

cregan feels much like the knight now. a smile wears itself on his lips, and cregan could not tell you when it appeared if his life depended on it. love doesn’t explain itself like that.

he watches just long enough to see rickon tackle you with a fierce hug, and for you to return it without the faintest trace of hesitancy. he’s now aware of his smile when he walks away — and he makes no effort to wipe it from his features.

and when you both tuck rickon into bed later that night (he specifically requested you with his father), as he tells cregan of his day in the snow, you have the faintest blush on your cheeks. that same very smile returns to his lips; it seems intent on not being kept at bay.

you both whisper goodnights to the little lordling as you close the door, and as soon as you do — turning to cregan — his mouth captures yours in a kiss so sweet it reminds you of the pastries stolen from the kitchen by lord & lady stark when sleep can’t be found. you sigh into him, and it somehow makes cregan fall even more hopelessly in love with you.

[k1mbe3rly]

Could you write something about smut and Namgyu?

Payback

Namgyu x shy fem!reader

warnings: smut, rough sex?

(kinda short 😣👎)

During the six legged pentathlon, Thanos and Nam-gyu technically just picked you up from there and that’s how you got in there group along with, 2 others. You were LOWKEY scared as hell to be in these games. After yall survived the six legged pentathlon you were just kind sitting there until it finally ended.

Everything was going great, quiet besides the sound of people whispers and finally it was time for voting, you were standing in the crowd watching people vote, until nam-gyu turned around facing you and Min-su, “Y’all better not fuck this up.” he claimed staring at the both of y’all, Min-su did a small ‘huh?’, Nam-gyu grabbed onto the little ‘X’ that was on the left side of his chest “This” he said lifting it up and slightly pulling it, he turned over to you grabbing your ‘X’ as well, “Like we agreed. we do one more, and then we get out, Right?” he said as you and Min-su did a small glance at each other, and Min-su nodded.

Nam-gyu turned his gaze to you getting a bit closer “One more. right princess?” he said smirking a bit, and slightly punishing back the ‘X’ into your chest as you sighed and nodded.

he winked at you before looking away and soon enough it was time for your vote as you walked up there and looked behind to see Nam-gyu making a ‘O’ shape, you looked back and thought for a minute before finally clicking on.. ‘X’, You went to the X side while avoiding contact with Nam-gyu

“Bitch..” he mumbled out, 30 minutes before lights out he went up to you grabbing onto your jacket collar “Who do you think you are huh?! i told you one more fucking game, didn’t i!?” he yelled into your face, “I-I’m sorry! i just don’t wanna die! i wanna go home already!” you yelled out. “Nice try bitch. but you fucking have to stay here now, With me. You really tried leaving didn’t you!” he yelled out as his friend Thanos or whatever grabbed onto his shoulder “Leave it man we got other things to worry about besides this” he said clearly drugged up, Nam-gyu looks at him and than looked back at me, he shoved me away slightly “Your gonna fucking pay for this” he said before walking away, you looked away in a bit of shock and scared.

It was until the middle of the night you woke up feeling the urge to pee.

you walked up to the door and knocked on it before the guards stared at you thru the slid window, fast forward you managed to beg them to let you in and now you were in a stall.

Once you finished you were washing your hands until the door opened and closed, you looked up into the mirror seeing Nam-gyu, you quickly widen your eyes and turned around, he walked up to you calmly, “How’d you get in here?! t-this is the girls bathroom pervert!” you yelled out “So?, doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is that you picked ‘X’.” He said looking into your eyes, “Either way we’re still here! you guys won!” you said back. “And yet..your still gonna fucking pay” he said getting closer grabbing chin and slammed his lips into yours, you stood there for a moment before finally giving in and kissing back

The kiss was a bit rough and harsh as you placed a hand onto the sink, he quickly pulled back shoved you on the ground onto your knees, you looked up at him in confusion until you saw him pull his sweats down along with his boxers, revealing his cock that sprung out perfectly, "Open." He said Down to you, you opened up your mouth while he grabs your hair and pulls your mouth onto his cock, you quickly started sucking it as you looked up at him, as he continued to stare down at you biting his lip “Fuck.. who knew you were so good at sucking dick huh? you do this a lot hm?” he said gripping your hair tightly and guiding your head as he groaned and leaned his head back, as you swirled your tongue around, you were running out of air and tried pulling back but he wouldn’t let you, instead he started mouth fucking you, shoving his dick deep inside your throat making you gag on it a bit, your eyes started tearing up a bit as you placed your hands on his hips trying to push him back, “Fuck! take this dick down your throat bitch!” he yelled out as his cock twitched, he let out more groans before cumming into your mouth.

You quickly backed up panting, your mouth of his cum, “Swallow it, i wanna watch you like the whore you are” he said, you quickly tried to swallow it as you gasped and panted a bit, he shoves you up and bent you the counter leaving you to see your reflection to the mirror “Nam-gyu-!” you tried speaking “Shh. shut the fuck up! i’m not done with you” he said shoving your pants down and your panties and quickly lined up his tip against your entrance, he wasted no time shoving it in as you moaned out, he chuckled at your reaction and placed his hands on his hips as he begin thrusting, his thrust were hard and fast, as he looked down seeing his dick go in and out, and his hips slamming onto your ass, he slapped your ass and looked back into the mirror seeing you moaning and looking down as he reached and grabbed your hair pulling it back “I wanna see your pretty face while i fuck you, mkay?” he said while still slamming into you, you nodded as you gripped onto the sink “Nam-gyu! too much! s-slow down!” you said, he ignored you as he went a bit faster groaning, “Fuckk! take it! take this fucking cock.” he said pulling onto your hair more making your head go back as you felt your orgasm rise “M’gonna cum!” you moaned out as he slapped your ass, not long after you came as he kept going for a small bit and finally cummed as well, panting he let go of your hair.

He stared into you in the mirror as he breathed heavily, he slowly pulled out watching his cum mixed with your eyes spill out, he chuckled at the sight and quickly pulled his pants back up “Next time pick ‘O’ or ima fuck you in front of everyone.” he said, you looked at him, “You’ll probably like that anyways.” he said walking away, before he left he looked back at you smirking at bit than walking out the door, leaving you there as you collected all your thoughts.

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Lovers to coworkers - Jenson Button x reader

cw: mentions of fingering, creampies, actual spanking and cockwarming, age gap (reader is in her 20s, jenson is in his 40s), author loves dilfs and hates her clichés

"I have a job for you." Jenson says to you when walking into your shared apartment.

"I am employed, honey. Even though I wish this deadline from my publisher wasn't real, it is. Just like the fact that your lovely girlfriend is a romance writer.". You knew how he felt about what you do for a living. It was an icebreaker during your first date, and when you made him laugh so hard, he did a spit take at your first commissions, you knew he was the one. Thankfully for you, the writing you did had evolved much since your "man gets turned into underwear for his ex-girlfriend" days in college. It was insane how you rationalized that 10 bucks was 10 bucks.

Ever since then, you wrote like a machine. You were versatile, pitching different things to your agent. Poetry books, essay collections, general fiction, all of those were your favorites, Jenson's too. But what skyrocketed you to fame was the romance book you started writing after a drunken night with your boyfriend. You teased him about his "grid slut" days of the past. Asked him to tell you about it, warts and all. And he did, loving the way you crossed your legs as his stories of the past. He kept his hand between your legs as he told you about menages a trois in Monaco and public indecency in Italy.

Jenson fucked you raw that night for the first time and he'd been obsessed with you begging to be filled with his cum. He called you needy, greedy, desperately horny, his little slut. And as much as he tried to deny it, it wears him out. He likes slow things now. Eating you out for hours, orgasm after orgasm melting the time together. Having you stroke him as he's doing research. So when you whine and cum around him, he can't help it. Two more pumps and he's out like a light.

He wakes up hours later, thirst making his throat almost painfully sore. And you're still naked, aside from a pair of glasses, typing furiously on a laptop. He doesn't question it anymore but still tries to coax you into bed. You shoo him off, claiming something about "being in the zone" and continued writing.

You're particularly cagey about that one, but he can guess it has to do with F1 and specifically him. You ask about whether certain events would be accurate in a race. Learn all about his girlfriends passed and how they coped with his stardom. Finally, after months of pestering him, he gets an advanced reader's copy. It's a romance, and it's obvious that it's based on him. The female lead also has some similarities to you, which Jenson loves to tease you about. Both of you expect it to be normal. But social media gets wind of it.

The Booktok girlies were a force to be reckoned with. You should've known that, considering Mark and his controversially young girlfriend. Their "internet meetcute" was as cliche as one of your new plots. But the couple sure made good company on secret double dates. Nothing like beating the assumptions that you're sugar babies with a friend. So when she and the rest of the F1 romance community found your book, it was chaos. Thank God for pen names, because being Jenson's girlfriend on top of writing smut about him would be too much. But after your steamy work, everything shifted. Thanks to the feedback and sales, the book had become a sequel. Then a trilogy. Now, with a fourth one in the works, your partner was getting tired.

That's why, at the mention of your romance writing, he quickly bends you over his lap. He wastes no time in pulling your pants down, making your skin prickle.

"You know, you're bad for my PR, sweets. Do you think your fans have any respect for me?" He asks as he traces shapes on your bare ass. He's waiting to strike.

"Of course they do." You reply. You know the people reading your smut could be a little too into it. And you embrace it. Liking fanart, aesthetic moodboards, playlist. You have your own community and you love engaging with them. That's what sets you apart and partially gets the bills paid. More realistically, it's what helps you buy more books and also spoil Jenson's dog.

"Yeah, then why are they in my Instagram comments, all horny? Thought they weren't supposed to know that your protagonist is based on me." He wonders and smack, comes the first slap to your ass.

"I've built this image, you know." Another hit and he doesn't miss your moan at it.

"A book, almost 400 pages of my deepest, darkest secrets, so many hours of labor." Spanked again.

"17 years, that's almost a two decade career in F1, not to mention karting before and endurance after." Another strike, this time harder. Jenson ignores your pleas, just like he ignores the wetness of your cunt. That would have to wait.

"Took me years to shed the playboy image, so much effort to be serious and reliable on Sky Sports now. And you could potentially ruin it. We can't have that, now can we, sweets?" He asks and smacks you one last time. He drags his nails against the redness of your ass, making you feel the sting of his punishment. Which wasn't finished.

Jenson tells you to be a good girl and mount him, facing the other way. You love how he positions his mouth right against your ear.

"Let me tell you about the opening. It's an open kept secret, but they're letting go of Danica. Backlash from the fans and all that. So I figured, why not get a costar I actually get along with?"

"Jenson, I have no credentials. The public knows me as your girlfriend, it's gonna give nepo sugar baby." You say, trying to ignore your partner's hands on the cotton of your panties. You hate bringing up the age gap as well, but maybe it will remind him why this is a bad idea.

"First of all, everyone knows you're dating me for my looks and sex appeal, not my money. Second, you've been learning while researching your little smutty romances. You've seen every race this season and actually made some interesting points. Why not try it out?" He asks. He's stripping you, leaving your pussy completely exposed atop his jean covered crotch. You try to argue that you'd be a terrible pundit, purposefully using that word to piss him off.

"You'd be a fucking stellar commentator, love. And also a very pretty one, not that it matters." He says, gripping your waist.

"Let me prove it." He turns on the TV and opens the Sky Sports app. He puts on a random quali from this year and mutes it.

"Tell me what's happening and you get a reward." Jenson says and you can feel him unbutton his pants under you. You start with a general overview of the season, and when a camera pans to a certain driver you try to give a little tidbit of information. Your boyfriend adlibs with you, his tender voice becoming more clear and "TV like". Surprisingly, you can follow what he's saying. Even when he slaps the tip of his cock against your clit.

"Keep going, you're on air after all. Don't expect me to carry all of the conversation now." He whispers in your ear as you go silent. You try, providing some more fluff about the country and cheating by asking Jenson about his experience there. He responds by spreading you open and slamming into you in one thrust. Then he actually goes into detail about the track and some challenges.

"Talk the fans through Q1 and I'll move." He says as you squirm in his lap. Jenson's hands grip your hips, making you go still.

In order to "motivate" you, he places one hand on your nipple and the other on your clit. You try your best. You comment on tire choices, and purple sectors. You prompt him to fill your gaps. You even get heated as the time runs out, unsure who'd make it. As soon as you announce the 5 drivers that are out, Jenson moves. The short break between Q1 and Q2 is hell, with your boyfriend absolutely going feral.

"Aren't you so good to me, huh sweets. Taking me so well when I fuck into you. Being the perfect little cock sleeve. Don't get too excited now, we're just starting out." He says, just about as Q2 is about to begin. Then TV Jenson is back, he's talking like you two have an audience. You're too busy trying to get off, pussy clenching over him. As soon as he feels you do that, he pulls out, stopping right at the tip.

"Behave or we're stopping right now." He says and you delve into your observation about the qualifying session. Jense is a full on tease now, sinking you down on him slowly, giving it to you inch by inch. Then he's buried to the hilt and he stops. You relax into your commentator role, despite him throbbing inside of you. He won't let up, purposefully moving his body forward to see a technicality.

"Need glasses, Mr. Button? I know eyesight goes with age, but you're only 44. " You tease and are met with him spreading your legs even more and landing a slap square on your clit. You half moan, half announce the drivers who are out and your "career" is cut short. Jenson presses you flat against the glass coffee table, loving how your breasts are smushed against it. He wraps an arm against your waist and fucks you in earnest. Tip brushing your cervix earnest. Thighs shaking, toe curling earnest. Moans so loud they drown out the fact that he's still commentating earnest. As somebody takes pole position, Jenson makes you come and when the interviews come to a close, he's spilling his seed inside of you.

"You know, if you don't want me writing you like a whore, you should stop acting like one." You say. And even though he's getting soft, you're pulled to Jenson's thigh, smearing his cum over both of you. Round 2 is more predictable than the fact that you did not try for that open Sky Sports position. Because your slot with your boyfriend would have to be moved to after midnight.

[thewidowsledger]

Good Luck, Babe

Chapter 3: A Fool | 4.2k

© thewidowsledger 2025 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Summary: The once secret, a forbidden love hidden from the world. Those stolen moments together had been thrilling, but ultimately, drove the person you truly love away from you. But when she left, she didn't just leave you; she also left you a part of herself that would constantly remind you of her for the rest of your life. This fragment of her essence became an indelible mark on your soul, shaping the course of your life in ways you never could have imagined.

You know what they say, when someone leaves, someone else will come.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: ANGST, r trying to win Natasha back and getting her attention, Natty being cold, heartless and mean (but still secretly possessive), cutie Aliah unintentionally trying to make Natasha jealous (daughter did the assignment🤙)

Author's Note: I wrote the lines of Aliah based on how toddlers would speak. Also, I have been meaning to ask what you all want to see next for this series after reading this chapter. Thank you in advance.

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

You found yourself in a difficult situation, having to explain to your daughter that a significant change was about to take place. The truth was that the woman she had met at the store was her mama, and that the two of you were going to get married, well, she kind of blackmailed you into it but of course you're not going to tell your daughter that.

All she cared about was the beautiful dress that was sent to your apartment, as well as your wedding dress, which you're sure Natasha had chosen. She was so focused on the thought of wearing the dress that she didn't understand the implications of the situation or the fact that this wedding was a desperate attempt for you to keep her with you.

All she cared about was the chance to wear a beautiful dress to be a part of a special day with her mama and mommy.

"I do," Natasha spoke with her velvety voice. She was so calm compared to you.

"Do you take Natasha as your lawfully wedded wife?" The solemnizing officer turned to ask you.

Your world literally stopped. This is it, it's happening and there is no turning back. Your heart raced and your palms grew clammy as you hesitated to say the words. You froze, feeling a sense of panic wash over you as you realized the enormity of what would happen if you finally it. Natasha could feel your trembling hands and see the fear in your eyes, but then you looked over at your daughter, her face was filled with so much joy, excitement and innocence. In your entire life, you had never seen Aliah this happy—you couldn't take this away from her, so in that moment, all your doubts and fears faded away.

You took a sharp breath, closing your glossy eyes as you utter the words…

"I do."

⧗

Your daughter, Aliah, had immediately clicked with both her mama and her auntie Yelena. She was particularly excited and playful around Yelena, who was a person who matched her energy. As you all made your way to Natasha's place, where she told you, you would now be living together, Aliah was buzzing with excitement, eagerly asking questions about what your new life would be like.

She was sitting on Natasha's lap in the back seat, while you sat beside them, watching as she looked out the window with excitement. Suddenly, she turned to Natasha and shouted, "I wan' a wower coaster in house, mama!"

"That's quite a request, kiddo." Yelena, who was driving, chuckled from the front seat.

"I could do that for my princess." Natasha assured with a wink.

And there you are sitting in silence—disassociating. Your mind was elsewhere as you stare at your wedding ring, replaying the events of the ceremony and the circumstances that had led to this moment. What if you didn't go to the groceries that night? Or what if you didn't ask your daughter to get the tub of your favorite yogurt? What if you came early that day so you could've gone to the market early as well? Then Aliah won't meet her mama, you wouldn't have to beg Natasha in court and look like the one desperate for you to marry her, but at the same time you wouldn't see Aliah this happy which you hadn't seen her since the day she was born.

The sound of Natasha's soft voice as she spoke to Aliah and the hum of the car's engine all faded into the background as you became lost in your own thoughts. You were physically present, but your mind was elsewhere entirely.

Your mind couldn't help but dwell on the memories of your past affair with Natasha, the woman who was now your wife. The irony wasn't lost on you as you sat beside them, listening as they laughed together.

Your daughter and your wife.

It was difficult to reconcile the idea that you were now married to her when just a few years ago back in college, you had always been averse to the idea. She had always wanted more from the relationship affair, she used to have plans for the both of you but you refused and always avoided it when she brought it up.

Gods, they both looked like each other.

"Okay, we're here." Yelena said as she pulled up the car. Your disassociation was cut through as you looked around—the imposing figure of the palatial mansion loomed in front of you, the soothing sound of the fountain in the entrance hall cutting through the fog in your mind.

In college, you had known about Natasha's family's generational wealth. Whenever you teased her about it, she would brush it off, saying her parents were the rich ones, not her. And for some reason, she never seemed comfortable talking about her parents, her father in particular. It was always a conversation that she tried to avoid.

Your daughter raced past Natasha, her little legs scurrying as she excitedly explored the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Aliah! Don't run!" You reminded your daughter, finally, there are words getting out of your mouth.

Once you get inside, there is already some extravagant meal prepared for you. And then after, Natasha took you and your daughter on a tour of the expansive home.

She knelt down to speak with your daughter. "This is going to be your room," she said warmly, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Do you like it?"

"This is mine, m-mama?" She whispered. Your daughter's eyes widened as she looked around the room, taking in the new surroundings. She walked over to the bed, her small hands reaching out to touch the soft blankets.

Natasha stood, watching the amusement of her daughter, "All yours, princess."

Your daughter turned to look at you as if waiting she's for your approval, when you finally nodded she let out a loud shout, her voice echoing through the room. "Mommy! Mommy! I have my own room!" she exclaimed, her face lit up with a huge smile. "Thank you, thank you, thank you Mama!"

A wide grin spread across her face as she plopped herself onto the bed, burying her face into the pillows.

"A' we all gon' sleep here?!" She turned to look at you again, but this time her eyes landed between you and Natasha, her excitement palpable but yours died down with her question.

Natasha walked towards your daughter. "No, baby, we'll be in our separate rooms," she spoke oh-so-gently. "But I suppose we can...sometimes? You know?"

Well, you really thought you would share the same bedroom as Natasha, guess you're not.

Your daughter is still too young to fully comprehend that and everything at all, she looked up with innocent eyes at her mama and to you who hasn't stepped inside her room just yet. But she eagerly nodded and turned to sprint around her new room.

"You have your room just across, Aliah." Natasha told you nonchalantly as she walked towards you. You were tempted to ask where hers is, but you held your tongue. Instead, you replied, "I think I'll stay with Liah for a few more nights, at least until she's adjusted. We share the same bed back in my apartment; this is her first time having her own room."

You couldn't help but feel impressed with yourself for maintaining a calm tone with her. It was a far cry from your unexpected reunion a week ago in the courtroom, where you had literally begged her on your knees for her not to take Aliah. Even when she kind of blackmailed you into marriage to keep your daughter with you which you had agreed with no hesitation. This was the first time in a long time that you had spoken to Natasha without letting your emotions take control.

But now, you couldn't help but hope that this marriage would mark a new beginning for you and Natasha. A chance to leave the past behind and start anew. Deep down, you knew it wouldn't be easy to make amends, but you were determined to do whatever it takes to make things right between the two of you.

Because you still love her. After all these years, it's still her.

⧗

Natasha informed you that she had enrolled Aliah in an international school and classes would start in a week to allow for adjustment. With your interactions limited to discussions about Aliah, you felt a growing desire to initiate conversations with her.

"Hey, Nat. I prepared breakfast." You greeted Natasha with a warm smile. It had been a week since you had moved into her home together, and it had been a week since the two of you had married. However, you had rarely seen Natasha during breakfast as she was always busy with work. Today, you woke up early and prepared breakfast for her, along with a packed lunch to take with her to her work. You packed her some teriyaki chicken, onigiri and some grapes. It was the go-to lunch you two always have in college.

You even pampered yourself, putting some make-up on early in the morning, so you'd look…beautiful? No, definitely not, presentable is the right word to put it…or is it not? You, yourself don't even know what you're trying to look like. You just want to look like the wife who prepares food for her partner, that's it, nothing more. You're definitely not trying to attract her.

Natasha's reaction to your offering was unexpected. She regarded you with a lingering stare from head to toes, but instead of accepting your gesture or at least noticing your…pampered self that's just for her? She simply walked away. She didn't say a word, leaving you standing there like a sales lady offering some products to a customer only to be ignored by them.

You tried to rationalize Natasha's behavior in your mind, not realizing the tears that started to fall down your cheeks. You told yourself that maybe she was tired from her demanding job which you have no idea what is, what you only know is she is now an owner of a big transportation company.

You were painfully aware that Natasha hadn't forgiven you yet, and you knew it was going to be a long and challenging journey to earn her forgiveness.

As for you daughter, there is not a single day went by without Natasha having a playdate with Aliah and sometimes you couldn't help but feel jealousy, unsure of who to be more envious of—Natasha or your own child. It was funny and heartwarming to watch the two of them spend time together. You couldn't help but notice how Aliah had picked up on some of Natasha's mannerisms, like the way she would pull her hair up just like her mother, or how Aliah had mimicked the little huff that Natasha does when she's upset. You also had noticed how Natasha and your daughter moved in sync, their movements mirroring each other's as if they were connected on a deeper level. Whether it was the way they walked, the way they gestured, or even the way they carried themselves, there was an uncanny similarity between the two of them.

"Teriyaki!" Your daughter shouted as she charged towards the table, you immediately wiped your tears carefully not to ruin your make-up and of course for your daughter not to see.

"You wook beautifuw, mommy." Aliah hugged your waist and you leaned to kiss her forehead.

"It's make-up baby." You giggled lightly as you put her down her chair. She probably noticed your make-up on.

"You stiw beautifuw. But I wike it more when you don' have 'em because a wot of guys wooks at you. Wike the man in the mawket yestewday." Your daughter muttered as she recalled the moment where a guy boldly went out and offered to help you reach a tray of eggs that is literally on your level to reach. At first, you thought the guy was just being kind but when you kind of flexed your wedding ring as you reached some seasonings with your left hand, you swear, the man almost bolted out of the market.

"So you're saying people just look at me when I have make-up on, young girl?" You asked playfully, trying to sound hurt and offended.

"No! Mommy is beautifuw even without cowors in her face!"

Natasha had been within earshot and overheard the exchange between you and Aliah. She had intended to give her daughter a quick kiss goodbye, but Aliah had already darted towards you and the teriyaki you originally prepared for her but she painfully ignored.

After she's done lingering like a creep staring at you, she finally gets going and shuffles her car key. As she walks towards the front door, Rick is there, the butler of her manor.

"Make sure she never has to go to the market again, especially alone."

⧗

Every single day, you would wake up early and put in the effort to prepare breakfast and pack a lunch for Natasha. But despite your earnest efforts, she would either not show up for breakfast or stealthily leave the house without a word, leaving you clueless and baffled. When you asked the housekeeper where she was, they would simply inform you that she had already left for work. It was a constant, frustrating cycle that left you feeling more and more confused and neglected each day—it was an endless loop. But no matter how frustrated and disheartened you felt, you still insisted on doing something for Natasha every day. It was as if a part of you held onto the hope that eventually, she would acknowledge, appreciate your efforts and forgive you. Every gesture, every attempt to connect with her, felt like a desperate plea to earn her attention and love.

Despite the continuous rejection from Natasha, you decided to take extra care of your appearance. You would make sure your hair was perfect, your makeup was flawless but simple. You told yourself that it was for your own self-confidence and not an attempt to grab her attention. You definitely didn't want her to notice you more, definitely not…

Do you get frustrated having to meet your own needs every night? Definitely not.

Natasha didn't outwardly soften her heart towards you, but she wanted to see how far you were willing to go, how much effort you were willing to exert to win back her favor. Of course, she secretly took notice of every gesture you did, every breakfast and packed lunch that she had painfully ignored just to look heartless and cold, and every time you put in extra effort to put into your appearance made it not easy for her. She definitely did not jerk herself off first thing in the morning at work after seeing you with just a huge shirt and dolphin shorts that did nothing to cover your legs. She felt like you were testing her…teasing her but she knew you were just trying to earn her forgiveness—that you would be on your feet to earn it.

She found a twisted sense of satisfaction in witnessing you trying to hide your disappointment and how your eyes become teary everytime she ignores you. Natasha was able to keep you on edge, constantly striving to earn an ounce of attention. This subtle form of control kept you unbalanced and unsure of where you stood with her, which only served to make you try even harder to win her back.

You were so amenable, submissive, and desperate. God, she wants to break you.

You had carefully planned a dinner for the three of you, and you decided to reach out to Natasha about it as soon as you woke up. You framed it as if it was your daughter's idea, even though it was really your own idea. Fortunately, Natasha agreed to it without much fuss, as she would do anything for her daughter. After the small talk she immediately excused herself once again ignoring the packed lunch you awkwardly handed her.

To your surprise, during the dinner Yelena was present, a factor you hadn't initially factored in, but you ultimately decided not to pay it much mind since Aliah was really happy to see her auntie again. The three of you sat down to eat together for the first time in many weeks.

During dinner, Yelena took it upon herself to strike up a conversation. "Do you still work, Y/N?" she inquired.

"Oh yeah, I just took some work break…before the wedding." You nodded, trying not to sound so awkward. You actually took a break since you were summoned to court about the custody of your daughter. The shit had you stopping everything you're supposed to do.

Yelena turned her attention towards Aliah. "And you huh?" she scrunched her face on your daughter who cannot stop giggling whenever she sees Yelena, "Is your new school okay?"

"Yeah! I got new friends, tata!" She clapped her hands together, a broad smile on her face. You couldn't help but giggle faintly at her reply reaching over and gently ruffling her hair. "But mama I wan' you to come with mommy to pick me up next time because someone asked for mommy's phone."

"Oh that's…that's not. That's the school's—"

"Shit!" Natasha cursed under her breath when her wine glass suddenly hit the ground.

"I got it," you quickly spoke, your voice filled with eagerness to please…her.

"Natasha! What are you doing?!" Yelena whispered to her sister. Well, let's just say that she wanted to test your desperation and she enjoyed the thrill of having you so consumed by her, trying so hard to gain her approval. And she hated hearing that you were getting attention from others.

She watched you as you scrambled to stand up and circle your way to the table, you knelt down to her side.

Fuck, she cannot definitely have these thoughts during dinner with her daughter right in front of her.

As you continued to clean up the mess on the floor, Yelena spoke up, eyeing her sister intently as if she's trying to scold her using just her eyes. "Y/N, the housekeeper can do that," she said gently. "You might hurt yourself."

There was a brief moment of silence in the room after Yelena spoke up. Natasha simply said, "Yeah." Then, without waiting for a response, she rose from her seat and avoided your kneeling form on the floor and walked towards your daughter, she kissed her good night, and announced that she needs to retire early because she has an important meeting tomorrow.

You watched her disappear as you're still crouched down on the floor, the blood from your ring finger threatening to fall as well as the tears in your eyes.

⧗

You made sure to talk to her before she left for work so you woke up early and reheated the dinner you had last night. Just as she's about to head out the front door, you call out to her immediately. She was rushing as if she already knew you were waiting for her. Natasha rolled her eyes before turning around, her expression guarded as she looked back at you.

As always, she noticed you were wearing a little make-up on and a packed lunch in both of your hands.

"G-good morning, Nat." Of course, you're stuttering, this is the 8th time you will talk to her and once again, about your daughter. Before she could even get bored of you, which you noticed she was, you immediately flashed her a smile, "I-uh Aliah has a performance later and she wanted you to be there. I wasn't able to tell you last night b-because you left early. Also, I…I uh reheated dinner last night so you'll have lunch at work."

"Okay, time?" She asked flatly, noticing how you tried to hide your ring finger that is wrapped with a small patch of gauze.

"Uhm, 4 p.m." You nodded, awkwardly clutching the packed lunch on your right hand while you hid your left on your back.

She takes it with a heavy, almost reluctant sigh, her fingers barely brushing against yours. "You know you don't have to do all this right? Someone gets paid to do this."

"I just wanna do something nice," you smiled awkwardly at her. It's not too late for that right?

God, she hated that smile. She rolls her eyes skyward, the gesture hidden from your view as she quickly turns away. Not bothering to reply.

"Bye, take care, Natty."

Natasha's shoulders tense briefly, upon hearing the nickname. It was the one you coined during college and she hasn't heard it not until now. The temptation to whirl around and scream that you have lost the right to call her that burns like fire in her chest. She envisions the shock, the pain, the breaking in your eyes at her words and she would love every bit of it.

But she bit back as she continued her way to the door handing the lunch she took from you to one of the housekeepers.

"Throw that away."

⧗

The minutes tick by slowly as you wait for Natasha. You called her phone number, it was actually her work phone number that she gave you and strictly told you to only call or text if it's about Aliah. Your daughter who was backstage keeps on peeking through the curtains, looking at you with hopeful eyes, checking if her mama is already with her mommy. You can only give her a thumbs up and a big smile whenever you see her.

But the performance is wrapping up, still no sign of Natasha.

As soon as the final curtain falls, you rush to where Aliah is sitting, a bouquet of her favorite flowers in your hand.

"Hi baby, you did great!" you beamed but you found her sitting with her head down, her usual bright eyes dimmed. Aliah wraps her arms around you tightly as soon as you pull her into your embrace, burying her face in your chest.

"Are you sad because mama wasn't here?" Your daughter nodded, you are too, you were sad and disappointed. But you covered up for your wife. "Mama called me and she was busy because she said she is preparing a surprise for you."

Aliah pulls back slightly, her eyes wide with curiosity. "A suwpwise?" she repeats. You force a smile, you don't like lying to your daughter and this makes your heart heavy with disappointment but determined to shield your daughter from the truth that her mama didn't show up even though she said yes to it. "Yes, sweetheart. Mama's been really busy preparing something special just for you." You pinched her cheeks that made her finally smile and giggle, "Don't tell mama I told you okay?" You whispered to her, your point finger resting on your lips while your daughter mimicked the act nodding eagerly.

You carefully tuck Aliah into bed, making sure she's fast asleep before Natasha even has a chance to get home. You know your daughter will be bombarding her with questions if you two both waited, and you're not sure Natasha has an answer ready for her. Besides, Natasha has no idea about the surprise you told your daughter she prepared for her, unless she read the text messages you flooded her with.

So you waited alone.

Natasha was just steps away but you immediately catch a whiff of something other than her usual perfume you use to smell every morning when you wait for her—the distinct scent of alcohol. She's been out drinking instead of showing up to your daughter's performance? You sigh internally, knowing this is going to be a long night. But still, you gave her a benefit of the doubt.

"Hey," you say quietly.

She tries to avoid you by heading towards her office, but you follow closely behind her.

"Natty, I cooked dinner for you. If you're hungry, they're downstairs or I can bring them to you."

"I'm not hungry," she husked, as she entered her office she left the door slightly open. You hesitate for a moment before following her inside, closing the door behind you.

As you were inside you immediately noticed Natasha leaning against her desk, trying to steady herself. You reach out to support her, but Natasha suddenly straightens up, pushing your hand away with a harsh grunt. "Don't fucking touch me," she snarls. She stumbles slightly, almost falling, before managing to catch herself on the chair.

"I-I'm sorry…" came as your second nature of response and you don't even know if she heard it.

"Can you fucking…" Natasha closed her eyes as if to calm herself, then opened again. She looked at you with half-lidded eyes. "Just stop doing all this, stop playing house. Stop cooking stupid breakfast, lunch or dinner for me…just, just fucking stop. Stop playing like a caring wife 'cause you're not."

But you do. You care. You love her—you still do.

But you have been a fool to think that she asked you to marry her for the two of you to start over with your daughter. This marriage is just for Aliah and now it's clear to you.

You nodded slowly, biting your inner lip to suppress the tears that were threatening to fall. "I uh…I told Aliah that you were preparing a surprise for her since you didn't show up to her performance earlier. Just make sure you have it prepared first thing in the morning tomorrow. Good night, Natasha."

[whatdoidosatoru]

meddle about

sebastian/fem!farmer | ao3 you can't stare at him while he's on stage without expecting him to offer to take you back to his house and meddle about, right?

wc: 4224 cw: smut, cunnìlingus, unprotected sex, mean sebastian, bratty reader, creampìe inspired by: pajamakidz on tiktok | 18+ | minors do not interact |

the music was vibrating in my chest.

i repeatedly cursed myself for forgetting the damn earplugs, but they had said it would just be a little, quickly put-together gig. sam was so sweet, inviting me in person instead of relying on the posters he had put up around pelican town, making sure i knew when to get to the bus stop. 

“make sure you're there by 4,” he had said with an excited smile on his face, “or we'll leave without you.”

now, several hours after we'd all bumped along the long stretch of road to zuzu city (all of us apart from sebastian, who apparently insisted on taking his motorcycle), i stood in a crowd bigger than i’d expected, shoulders bare as i tied my shirt around my waist.

it got stuffier as the evening went on, band after band filled the stage with their energy and music, the goblin destroyer already having finished their set. sam found me in the crowd, already pumped with adrenaline after strumming the guitar and singing their first ever set. 

he excitedly shouted into my ear, something about the band currently playing on the stage, gesturing wildly with his hands, but i couldn’t follow. not fully, anyway. sebastian stood next to him with a somewhat bored expression on his face, taking the finished cigarette and dropping it to the ground where he stepped on it with the heel of his shoe. 

“...do you want one?” sam poked my bare shoulder, expecting me to answer, but i hadn’t even heard the question. 

“what?” i shouted back, getting on my tiptoes to reach his ear.

“getting a beer, you want one?”

i shook my head, waving as he did a thumbs-up with both his hands before turning and starting towards the bar. sebastian stayed. i looked around to locate abigail, but she was excitedly talking to some people from the neighbouring village. i got on my tiptoes again, getting closer to sebastian so i didn’t have to shout too much.

“your set was really good.” i was so close i could smell his cologne mixed with sweat. his head dipped lower, reaching my shoulder with his warm breath as he spoke.

“thanks, hope it wasn’t our last.”

just as i was about to chuckle and respond saying it was just the beginning, that the goblin destroyer were just beginning their ride to glory, i felt his hand snake around my waist. he held me, a little taken aback, but mostly just blushing with how forward it was for his usual self. different. kind of like the way he swayed me with him, kind of to the rhythm of the current song. 

“seb…” i didn’t say it loud enough for him to hear, too caught by surprise to be louder as my hips moved with his, slightly shifting so he stood behind me. his fingers were splayed over my hips and i swear i could feel the warmth of his hand even through my jeans.

sebastian’s chin rested against my temple and his other hand found its way to my other hip, now holding me against him a little firmer, with a little more confidence.

i cursed when the song ended, expecting him to release me, but his hands stayed put.

as the applause roared around us and the band on stage prepared to do another song, sebastian’s breath tickled my ear and i could hear him better.

“wanna come over later?”

“o-over?” i cursed at myself, realising what he had meant only after i’d already asked.

“yeah, to my place.”

my heart was beating through my throat, thumping relentlessly as i swallowed.“oh come on,” sebastian let out a chuckle against the side of my head, “did i imagine you eye-fucking me while i was on the stage?”

my heart sped up, i didn’t think i’d been that obvious, though i could hardly remember anything from their set that wasn’t the way sebastian had flicked his hair out of the way, the shape of his focused brows…

and the movement of his hands on the keyboard, the slender, deft digits caressing the keys with skill and passion–

“well?” his hands tightened on my hips, pulling me against him a liiittle tighter, it was almost embarrassing how much i enjoyed feeling him harden against my ass.

“when later?” my breath caught in my throat and i felt his chest move as he laughed.

“impatient?”

“let’s go now” i turned around, spinning out of his hold and facing him, my blushing face be damned.

i must have caught him off guard, being so eager, but damn it he was right. i had been staring at him the entire night. the entire season, actually. ever since i had first spoken to him.

without another word he pulled me towards the exit, where he’d parked the motorbike. before i’d thought it was a little pretentious of him to forgo taking the bus with the rest of us, but now i was grateful for it. i just hoped sam wouldn’t freak out when he discovered us gone…

the ride was quick and refreshing, after the stupid heat at the venue i welcomed the whipping wind with a grin on my face. i could hardly control my movements as sebastian parked and brought the bike into his garage, fumbling with the keys as he let us in. soon enough we were dashing down the stairs to his bedroom.

i wasn’t unfamiliar with his bedroom, having visited quite a few times now. I’d brought him random minerals i had found at the mines, i’d come over to play solarion chronicles, or just to hang out on the couch and read his comics while he worked. but now i saw it in a different light, or lack thereof.

in full, promising darkness, i could hardly make out the shape of his bed when he spun me around and pressed me against the door. his lips parted mine and i let him press me between the hardwood door and his warm body, the heat pulsing between us was made nearly unbearable.

so it was no surprise that sebastian reached down to the hem of my top, quickly sliding it up and off my body over my raised arms, barely breaking that searing kiss.

i’d have been perfectly happy staying against the door, had he not spun me around and dragged me to the bed. as i sat down on the edge, searching for a safe path blindly, he reached to the side and turned on the bedside lamp. it cast a gentle glow onto both our faces, helping me in the mission of getting him out of that hoodie. now topless, he crawled over me and i lay on my back on top of the slightly crumpled sheets. 

the pillow my head rested on smelled of him and i briefly imagined what it would be like waking up on that same pillow to the sight of his sleeping face. the face whose gaze was currently hungrily devouring my entire form, wondering where he was going to start unwrapping what was left of my clothes.

suddenly, those same deft fingers i had watched dance along the keys on stage were on my jeans, unbuttoning them and untying the flannel shirt that was tied around my waist. lifting my hips, i helped out by shimmying out of the offending clothes before i undid his jeans, tugging on them so he would hurry up.

i didn’t want to wait anymore, but his pace was teasing. it was building tension so high i could hardly fit more of it into my throat before having to let out an impatient huff. he caught the sound of it and smirked, yoba it was a sinful curve that made me tug on his jeans harder.

sebastian’s hand knocked my fingers off his jeans paired with a click of his tongue. he was dead set on doing it himself, torturing me with his slow movements. finally, he was left only in his boxers, having slid off his jeans along with his shoes and mine. there was a little wet patch on his boxers, right where his leaking tip pressed against them, achingly hard, constricted, and begging for air. 

he caught me looking down his chest, stomach, that little patch of dark hair trailing underneath the waistband of his boxers, and finally settling my gaze on the perfect outline of his cock. i smirked ever so slightly, entertained by the show of neediness in his boxers. sebastian only scoffed, grabbing my knee and moving it to the side to spread my legs wider.

“you’re no better, you know?” he teased, lowering his head to ghost his lips over mine while the hand not holding my leg trailed up my inner thigh, settling on the wet patch of my own. right on the sweet little panties i had innocently picked out after stepping out of the shower today, ready to go see my friends’ first ever gig.

poor past me had no idea those same panties would be rubbed in this way hours later, that they’d be pushed between my already wet folds by sebastian’s slender finger as he got them wetter, gliding up and down to collect my slick on them.

the way sebastian trailed that finger up and down my wet slit made for gently stimulation, coaxing slow, drawn out moans from my lips only to be caught in his mouth as he brought them down to kiss me again. he swallowed every single needy sound, fueling them more and more as he pressed a little firmer against my clothed clit.

i reached up into his hair, tangling my fingers into those strands that he had always flicked away from his eyes, always fussed with despite the fact that they were obviously covering his face on purpose. 

his hand tightened its grip on my leg when i tugged on his hair, his breath vibrated in my mouth. this is it, i thought, this is how i break you.

almost as if he sensed my feeling of victory over his composure, he pulled away from the kiss and stopped rubbing my pussy to wipe the string of saliva that connected our lips. his self-control didn’t last long, for he immediately continued kissing, only not my lips, leaving them to let out small gasps and huffs of pleasure while i was still holding onto his hair and making myself believe i was guiding him at all.

sebastian’s lips grazed my skin as he trailed them down to my breasts, slowly taking my bra off by sliding his hands under my back to unbuckle it surprisingly skillfully. one nipple soon found its way into his mouth, being warmed by his breath and toyed with his tongue, while the other was under gentle care of his thumb and index finger. 

the way he played my body like his damn instrument had me lifting my hips up, searching for any kind of friction, anything to help me relieve some of the pressure building in my abdomen. it was thrumming, loud and violent in my body, but he took his damn time. this is it, i thought, this is how you break me.

it seemed to amuse him greatly, my blatant want and inability to get satisfied quickly. he let out deep chuckles against my nipple, popping it out of his lips with a wet sound before he could continue down my body over the tingling skin, leaving fiery patches as he kissed and bit my flesh.

both his hands were finally on my body, holding my hips down and preventing me from bucking them upwards, though not for lack of trying. i struggled against his grip, desperate for more while he seemingly found immense enjoyment in watching me unravel on his bed.

i kept tugging on his hair, kept making him gasp against my warming skin while he made his way to where he would inevitably stop just to piss me off. those eyes lifted and stared right into my soul, looked at my pitiful expression, lips parted, eyes glossy, skin so flushed. leaving one last kiss right under my navel, he had some mercy on me.

his lips parted and pressed against my clothed pussy, his tongue ran up and down my already wet garment, slicking it with his saliva more, sucking against it and humming to vibrate my needy skin. still, he wouldn’t let me lift my hips, still he held me down against the bed, prolonging my efforts at grinding my cunt on his face.

“s-so meaaaan” i whined out, tugging on his hair to try and pull him closer against me, curling my toes in frustration.

“you haven’t seen mean yet,” he vibrated the air between his wet lips and my unfortunately clothed pussy, “i can be worse.”

the smirk he wore got me groaning in frustration, but it clearly wouldn’t help me get what i wanted. he wanted to play dirty, to have me on edge until i pleaded for him, to reduce me to a puddle that he could lap up with that warm tongue.

“but you’re right, it’s not fair.” sebastian’s fingers hooked under my panties and he slid them down. i was so damn relieved that my breathing got faster, i moaned at the very feeling of air on my wet folds that he dove right into.

parting them with his tongue, he pressed it flat against my clit, gently licking up and down and releasing my hips. as soon as his hands left my body i lifted myself off the bed, grinding up into his face, tugging his hair, whining, moaning, cursing. it was the sweet release that i’d been waiting for.

somehow, he let me use his mouth, he willingly went along with my movements, at the same time taking his boxers off. now he was matching the pace of my hips against his face with the movement of his own hips against the bed.

suddenly, just as my whimpers got louder, as my fingers pulled on his hair tighter, he closed his mouth around my pulsating clit and sucked harder. that simple action coaxed a pretty whine from my pouty lips as i came, thighs shaking around his head, pressing together dangerously as he let me squeeze his face with them. using his tongue, sebastian led me through the orgasm, lapping up all my juices carefully, making sure not to spill anything.

fuck, the wet noises of his mouth mixed with the moans from my mouth caused my head to spin. i could just lie there like that for the next few hours, had i not wanted to feel him inside of me. he was the same, for with another, almost gentle, kiss to my pussy he crawled over to kiss me on the mouth, slipping his tongue to glide against mine, letting me taste myself on his lips.

i pulled him closer, drinking in the mix of his saliva and my juices, pulling his entire body against mine and wrapping a leg around his waist, grinding up to feel his hardened cock grind against my sopping cunt.

“i’m feelin’ mean again” he whispered against my lips, breathing into them before once again kissing hungrily, “wasn’t done making you beg.”

in response i whined and pulled his body closer, desperately trying to grab onto him to not let him pull away and torture me again. sebastian chuckled, lifting his torso up despite the nails that i dragged down his back, and settled between my thighs once again. instead of keeping the distance from me, he spread my legs again, holding them apart as he got closer, resting his cock between my folds.

he started to move, grazing my clit with the underside of his shaft, making me lift my hips with every thrust, but in vain, as i got no friction from it. this time it wasn’t just my noises that filled the room.

despite his own initiative to keep the teasing up, to not actually give me any relief, he was moaning as well. he let out a little whimper, instantly scrunching his face in embarrassment, probably hoping i hadn’t heard it. oh, but i heard it.

and it spurred me on to lift my hips higher.

“fuck, this wasn’t supposed t–”

“wha– what, your little p-plan not working, hm?” i teased him, finally donning a smirk on my face as he looked like it was getting harder keeping himself from just fucking me like he meant it.

“brat” he huffed out, releasing one of my legs to lead his hard cock to my entrance, gently poking into it.

sebastian hissed as his tip entered me, drawing a higher pitched moan out of me. instantly, the bastard pulled out, leaving me empty and wanting.

“looks like i’ve got a few more tricks, huh?” he was way too happy with himself, teasing my dripping cunt by only putting his damn pretty tip in and taking it out, smearing it with my wetness, spreading it down to his shaft.

“you’re sooo–”

“say please.” he interrupted me. cutting off my attempt at insulting him.

i closed my mouth, furrowing my brow as he pressed his tip against me again.

“say please and i’ll stop pulling out.”

it was a no-brainer, but my proud mind could hardly just accept the defeat. i wanted to make him fold, but here i was, spread out, teased, desperate for him to stuff me full and fuck me like i’d never felt it before.

“h-huh?” playing dumb only made him roll his eyes and bring his hand down onto my clit, gently tapping it as if making sure i was aware of my naked state.

“don’t you huh me, say please,” he rubbed my clit so slowly it was almost painful, “or the tip is all you get.”

i gritted my teeth and took a deep breath before swallowing my defiance and in my best, sweetest voice pleaded with him.

“pleeease?”

“please what?” damn bastard wanted me to beg and grovel, his smirk kept growing, kept getting more annoying, yet so damn attractive.

“please, sebastian, fuck me… properly, ‘wanna feel you all inside me, wanna… wanna cum on your dick, please.”

my pouting must have worked, because he leaned down to kiss my pout before spreading my thighs again, looking down at the needy blushed cunt spread open before him, and pushed inside me again.

he groaned and it was the most magnificent sound i’d heard. his hips bucked ever so slightly against me, but he didn’t go much further inside. barely more than the blasted tip again. once i started whining, he brought his hand down on my clit again.

“i said i wouldn’t pull out, didn’t i? damn impatient brat.” he clicked his tongue, though under all that bravado he was still trying to keep it together, his eyes betrayed it. “keep those legs open for me.”

i obeyed him, keeping my thighs comfortably open so he could keep moving between them.

once he stopped breathing so deeply, his hips moved slightly forward, giving me a little more, but not quite what i wanted. before i could let out a whine, he let a drop of saliva roll off his tongue and land on my clit. it made me hiss, but he ignored me, instead rolling my pulsating clit under his thumb.

he played me like his damn keyboard, making me sing exactly how he wanted, whimpering under his touch while he kept his tip inside me.

gently, slowly, he slid in a little deeper, making me curse and in turn getting my clit played with a little harder. sebastian let out a slow hum, as if savouring the feeling of my cunt contracting around him, squeezing him in to keep his cock inside, sucking it in, needing it.

“so damn…” he shook his head, finally meeting my eyes as he held my hips with those elegant fingers, “tight, fuck how…” with another hum he slightly pulled away, but still keeping his tip inside, as he promised.

doesn’t mean i was happy with it. my hand sought out his, so i gripped his wrist, keeping myself grounded in the moment. after a few moments he slid deeper inside again. yoba, i felt every damn vein on him, i felt it drag inside me, teasing me with that gorgeous texture. my back arched into the air. the sight excited him so much he had to slide in deeper and give me more. more, once again.

the bastard then pulled back, waited until i gave him a dissatisfied whine, and then slid fully into me.

i threw my head back on his pillow, moaning out into the dimly lit room, trying to get used to having all of him inside me. sebastian’s head dipped down low, he held me in shaky hands for a few moments until he could get enough of a grip to start moving. it was something almost sacred, the way his cock hit all my sweet spots so well. his balls slapped against my ass with light taps until he decided to speed up, his teasing be damned.

“a-ah l-like tha-at” i held onto his wrist with one hand, tightening the grip, and onto the headboard above me with the other. i sure hoped it was sturdy enough, because he kept going faster, harder. thrusting into me with heavy grunts and an occasional whimper as my body arched, getting the angle just right, getting it to make stars dance behind my closed eyelids. his voice behind my eyes looked like bright fireworks, moaning, grunting, whispering fuuck, so pretty, so sweet, filling the air with lewd noises.

“yoba, ‘m not gonna… not gonna last that lon– oh fuck…” with a voice like he was on the edge of an orgasm already, sebastian slipped nonsense between those parted lips.

only fuelling my moans further, he grabbed me tightly, wrapped his arms around my waist, and lifted my hips off the bed. oh, that was sending me into another dimension. he kept sliding in and out, so freely now as he let himself stop being so damn mean and stuffed me full, gliding in and out of my slippery cunt.

as sebastian’s thrusts lost their constant rhythm, the moans from his lips increased, now reducing him to a mess as he held me up, using me like his personal toy to ruin, using me to extinguish the fire in his abdomen and mine. i felt my thighs shake. the whines and curses from my mouth grew higher in pitch, so fucking needy for him, tightening around him, sucking him into myself.

“a-are you gonna…” i tried to enunciate, tried to speak in a normal tone, but it was pathetic.

“y-yeah i’m… are you?”

“m-mhmmmm”

feeling my lip quiver, i grabbed the sheets under me. sebastian lifted me a little higher, speeding up once again, building up a pace he could hold as he thrust inside me. but out of the blue, i cried out, gripping the sheets tightly to hold onto something solid as i tightened around him and came, shivering while he kept pumping in and out of me.

now he was cursing louder. whimpers came in between grunts, a few more rough thrusts before he groaned loudly, throwing his head back as he slowed down while emptying himself inside me. he rode out that high with his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly moving my body that was nearly limp in his hands, filling me up with his cum as it shot into me.

gently, sebastian lowered my hips back onto the bed, slowly pulling out of me. he looked at the spot where we had been connected just a minute ago, his release now slowly trickling out of it. the view must have been hypnotic, he kept looking for a few long minutes, catching his breath while my limp body lay there exhausted.

warmth was spreading into me again, from my core to my fingertips. i closed my eyes for a second. the second lasted longer than planned, since as i opened my eyes, sebastian was standing next to the bed with a wet cloth, reaching down to clean me up with gentle touches. i looked into his focused face, seeing none of that mean smirk he had worn before he let himself enjoy me. i guess in a way we broke each other.

i groaned as he moved my legs, feeling gummy under his touch. chuckling, he dropped the used cloth next to the bed and crawled carefully over me. his warm arm brought me closer, rolling me into his chest as he dragged the covers from under me and over both of us. my cheek gently rested against his chest as he turned the lamp off, once again sinking us into darkness. this time the dark felt softer, all tension from it seemed to have disappeared while his hand rubbed my back in slow circles.

“so…” i started, feeling a sly grin curling my lips, “round two?”

he snorted in laughter, coughing before sighing in disbelief.

“you’re outta your damn mind.” he paused before pressing an uncharacteristically tender kiss to the top of my head. “at least give me five minutes…”

[fluentmoviequoter]

All That Matters

Requested by anonymous: "Alright, could you write Luca with a younger reader (25-28 yes old). She's super sweet and bubbly, basically just a sunny disposition. People think she's too young for him/he's too old for her, like especially her family. She grew up really seeking their approval, like she has a problem trying to make other people happy even if it leaves her exhausted, sad, or uncomfortable. but she won't compromise her happiness this time for anyone because she really loves Luca. Sorry if that's too much. I really love your writing" AND a request that I lost about Luca meeting his shy/innocent girlfriend on the beach and keeping their relationship private

Pairing: Dominique Luca x younger!fem!reader

Summary: You're sweet, bubbly, and perfect for Luca. When people begin judging your relationship because of the age gap, you decide that you, Luca, and the love between you are all that matters.

Warnings: age gap, fluff, brief angst, parental judgement

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

A/N: Thanks for the kind words, anon! And sorry to the other anon whose ask I lost; I hope I remembered the gist of it. :)

“What’d you think of that one, sweetheart?”

Luca looks up from his surfboard when he hears the question. It sounds wrong like the man in the wetsuit is calling someone sweetheart when he shouldn’t be. The word is dripping in condescension, and Luca is prepared to stand up for the woman being addressed with the sarcastic and likely uninvited pet name.

“It was really good!” you reply, smiling brightly.

Immediately, Luca regrets turning his attention away from his board. He’s quickly convinced he can never get it back from you. You playfully shove the surfer, who grips his arm like he’s in incredible pain. At least she’s okay, Luca thinks as he tries to focus on prepping his board for his morning surf.

“Peters was looking at you again,” the man with you complains.

“Why?” you inquire, using your heel to trace a shape in the sand.

With a sigh, he replies, “Don’t worry about it. I’m going back in. Pay attention long enough to give me some honest feedback?”

“You’re always good,” you assure him. “But I’ll try.”

Luca stands and lifts his board while your friend runs into the surf again.

“Good morning,” you greet as he nears you.

“Morning,” Luca replies with a smile. “How’s the surf look today?”

Nodding, you look at the water and say, “Good. Offshore breeze should help, water’s glassier than it was yesterday, and the wave shapes have been nice.”

“You know your stuff.”

You look down at the sand, and Luca decides then he’d love to get to know you.

“I’m Luca,” he says, dropping the end of his board to shake your hand.

“Luca!” your friend calls as he returns from a wave you didn’t witness. “I thought I recognized that board.”

“And I should have recognized the hair,” Luca replies, fist-bumping him.

“How do you two know each other?” you inquire.

They both look pointedly at their boards, and you roll your eyes.

“Better question is, how do you two know each other?” Luca questions.

“He’s my neighbor,” you explain. “He’s trying to ‘get me out of my shell.’ His words.”

“It’s working!” he defends. “You wouldn’t have talked to a stranger on the beach six months ago.”

You lower your voice to confide in Luca, “That’s true.”

“Excuse me,” your neighbor asks, marching toward a surfer you recognize: Peters.

“He doesn’t like Peters looking at you?” Luca deduces.

“I don’t know why,” you say with a shrug. “Good luck surfing. Or have fun, whatever the right phrase is for non-competitive wave riding.”

“Either works. And between you and me, it’s because you deserve better than Peters.”

You look down again, but you’re smiling, so Luca decides to use this opportunity like a perfect wave and ride it for as long as possible.

“Would you like to get dinner with me?” he proposes.

Looking up, you answer, “I’d love to.”

That evening, Luca glances at his watch while Street and Tan argue about which restaurant makes better cheesecake. He needs to leave now, or he’ll be late to your first date, and while you seem incredibly sweet and would probably understand, that isn’t how he wants to start a relationship with you.

“Guys, I’m gonna head out!” he calls, pointing over his shoulder.

“What? Why?” Street inquires. “We’re going to your favorite place!”

“You don’t know what my favorite place is, Streeter. And the waves are going to be perfect in the morning, so I need some rest. Have fun!”

After he leaves his team, he meets you at an oceanside restaurant and takes your hand as you’re led to a table on the deck. The more you talk and open up, Luca realizes that you’re not only sweet, you’re downright bubbly, and possess a sunny disposition about everything in the world. Yes, you’re innocent and can be shy, but you open up to Luca. He knows he was right this morning, and he needs to know everything about you.

Four Months Later

“Pretty dress,” your mother compliments at family dinner.

“Thank you! Luca got it for me,” you reply, holding the skirt as you look down at the dainty details lining the top.

“You’re still with him?” your father inquires. “Sweetheart, I’m glad you’re happy but you are too young for him.”

Your mom lays her hand on his arm as she amends, “He’s quite a bit older than you.”

You swallow harshly, fighting the urge to do something that will regain their approval. You’ve been trying to make them happy your entire life, and when they continuously bring up the age difference between you and Luca, it makes you sad.

“Why don’t you go out with that neighbor of yours?” your mother suggests. “The surfer with the pretty hair?”

Because then you’d complain there’s too much sand in my house. Rather than voicing that opinion, you remind her, “He has a fiancé. And she’s one of my best friends.”

“Maybe I can set you up with a son of one of my buddies,” your father says.

You nod, picking at the appetizer on your plate with no trace of your usual smile. Being aware that you’re a people pleaser doesn’t make dealing with the emotions of disappointing someone any easier.

“I’m happy,” you say softly.

“For now,” your father grumbles.

You decide to change the topic, and as the night goes on, the heaviness in your stomach seems to weigh you down. When you return home, you’re inexplicably exhausted, sad with yourself and your parents, and uncomfortable. You never feel like this with Luca because he accepts you for who you are and doesn’t take advantage of your tendencies to do all you can and more for others. It’s one of the many reasons you love him.

As you lie awake in bed, you make a decision. Your happiness is the only thing that matters. And starting now, you will not compromise your happiness or relationship for anyone. You’ll do it for yourself and for Luca.

“How’d your dinner go?” Luca inquires, brushing a stray hair from your face.

You shrug, and Luca brushes his lips against your temple.

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” you admit. “But I don’t want to put us at risk to do that.”

“Do you care about the age gap?”

“Of course not!”

“Then that’s what’s important. Everything is up to you. I know it’s not easy to hear and even harder to put it into practice but doing what makes you happy is the only way you’ll get what you deserve. You’re sacrificing yourself for others.”

“I just don’t understand why they can’t accept that you make me happy. They don’t care that I love you.”

Luca’s brows raise as he smiles. You realize what you admitted but can’t ask if he’s okay with you saying it before Luca pulls you into a hug that makes all your worries and discomfort disappear.

Luca’s phone buzzes during a sparring match. When he remembers that you are one of the few people who can reach him while he’s at the station, he calls timeout. Ignoring Street’s protests, he lifts his phone and reads the message.

“I gotta go,” he tells his team. “Family thing.”

“You’ve been having a lot of family things,” Deacon says.

“Just tell us what’s going on, man,” Hondo invites. “You know we’re here for you. Don’t have to keep sneakin’ off if you let us help.”

“I…” Luca hesitates, then says, “I don’t know if you can help me get my future in-laws to like me.”

Deacon and Hondo’s jaws drop, and Street snatches Luca’s truck keys out of his hand.

“We’re meeting her right now,” he declares. “Wasn’t a question either, and I can beat you if you try to take these keys back.”

“She’s not feeling great right now,” Luca argues. “Next time.”

Tan pulls Luca’s phone from his hand and taps the message. Luca tries to get his phone back, but Hondo reaches it first. Lifting it to his ear, he raises his hand toward Luca and says, “It’s ringing.”

Luca stops. He’s almost sure you will hang up when you realize it isn’t him calling, but Hondo has a way of disarming people, and you already see the best in everyone you meet.

“Hi,” Hondo greets. “My name is Daniel Harrelson; I work with Luca.” He smiles and holds Luca’s gaze as he says, “Yes, I am Hondo. And Luca is fine. My team and I just wanted to ask if we can finally meet you. Luca hasn’t said a word about you.”

Hondo ends the call a moment later and returns Luca’s phone without a word.

“She said she’ll have coffee and desserts ready when we get there.”

“Watch him,” Deacon warns Luca.

“Alright,” Luca says. He chuckles and shakes his head before inviting his team to follow him to your house. He doesn’t mention that you’re young, sunny, or nearly perfect, but he’s sure they’ll realize quickly. If they disapprove of the relationship, Luca may have to make the hardest decision of his life.

Hondo, Deacon, Street, and Tan watch as you greet Luca at the door. They realize imediately that Luca is in love. Not like the love he’s claimed to be in before, but really, truly, madly in love. What makes Deacon smile is that you are, too. Three of the four men on your walkway don’t notice that you’re younger than Luca, at least not right away. The fourth notices, but only to make well-meaning jokes and take jabs at Luca while they bicker.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say after introductions. “Luca’s told me a lot about you.”

Luca cuts in before Hondo can remind you that they haven’t heard about the relationship.

“We kept the relationship private,” he explains.

“He means he decided to keep me from any possible judgement,” you explain. “I’m getting enough grief from my parents about the age gap without inviting more people to comment on it.”

“I mean I wasn’t going to say anything,” Street begins.

“Then don’t,” Deacon interjects. “He’s kidding.”

Tilting your head, you look at Street, then say, “You’re funny.”

“If you ever get tired of Luca or he throws his back out surfing or something, I’m right here.”

“And you said I’d have to worry about Hondo,” Luca murmurs to Deacon.

“What is that wonderful smell?” Hondo inquires.

“Maybe it’s both of them,” Deacon replies.

“I made some scones, chocolate chip muffins, and brownie bites this morning,” you remember excitedly. “There’s also fresh-brewed coffee. Follow me.”

Luca watches as his team gets to know you. They support the relationship - which they ensure they voice to Luca upon returning to the station - and clearly appreciate your sweet and bright personality. It’s a welcome light in their sometimes dim day-to-day lives.

“So, what are you doing about the parents?” Street inquires as he reaches for another brownie. “If you decide to cut them loose, Deacon and Annie would probably adopt you.”

You look to Deacon, smiling as you expect a deadpanned response that will make you laugh.

“Annie’s going to love you,” he begins. “So, I actually don’t have a response to that because it probably would happen.”

“I think you should just introduce Luca to your parents,” Hondo says, breaking a muffin into smaller pieces. “If we can see how happy the two of you are together, anyone can.”

You look to Luca and decide to do just that. It won’t be an overnight change, but if they see that you love him, they’ll grow to accept him. You and Luca are the only people that matter in your relationship, and you’re happy with him and him alone.

“When’s your birthday?” Tan asks. “We’ll add it to the calendar.”

“What calendar?” you ask.

“The family calendar,” Luca tells you. “I wasn’t kidding when I said if they like you you’re stuck with them.”

Smiling, you ask, “What else is on the calendar?”

“Not your parents’ birthdays!” Street exclaims from the living room, looking at your pictures.

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

I feel like. I feel like there's something about book!Amadeo being turned while he and Marius are in front of a reproduction of The Procession of the Magi, vs show!Armand telling Louis about his past while using The Adoration of the Shepherds as a reference point.

like obviously these are two different depictions of the same event--tying into the book/show themes of the way a story changes when viewed from different perspectives. the event in question of course being the birth of Christ, who Armand/Amadeo compares both himself and Marius to at different parts of TVA, linking his own vampiric "birth" to the infant Christ and mistaking Marius for an adult Christ. which reflects the themes of sacrifice, worship, and rebirth that have shaped Marius/Armand's story from the beginning: the father killing the son so he may be reborn a stronger version of himself, the father abandoning his son to his enemies (Marius playing dead in both canons so Armand is left to the Children of Darkness, show!Marius offering Amadeo up for the donations, etc).

also there's the switch from the focus on the Magi, a stream of wealthy and powerful figures (led by Lorenzo Medici) processing towards the idea of Christ, not visible on the canvas, to the lower-class shepherd paying homage to the reality of Him. although "reality" doesn't really mean much here, since we learn that the shepherd is meant to be a whitewashed, brutalized Amadeo. TVA!Armand compares himself to the Christ child whose birth the Magi attend, amc!armand is the worshipful shepherd, at once the centerpiece and a smaller player in a larger drama out of his control (also this metaphor sort of makes the younger kids in the palazzo the lambs, which. well). not to mention how the more up-close perspective of Adoration on Christ's birth, Armand's birth, provides a fitting lens for the show taking a more critical eye towards Marius and Armand's relationship than the books do--this is the first amc scene where their relationship is described in detail and it's framed as explicitly abusive, a continuation of the violence Armand experienced in the brothel, something that is upheld in the next ep by Louis calling Marius a groomer.

in the book the Procession is a backdrop to sacrifice, Amadeo's sacrifice as a necessary precursor to immortality; in the show the Adoration is the sacrifice, and the immortality achieved is artistic along with supernatural. instead of being a balm for the horrors of immortality the way Procession is, the way art in these books so often is, Procession explores the idea of art as another layer of horror. Procession and Adoration are both points on the same journey, the same story of trading vulnerable humanity for something Else, only Procession marks Armand/Amadeo's journey away from his humanity and Adoration marks the brief moment where Armand is forced to reconnect to it, to open himself up for Louis's observation so they can enter the next, doomed stage of their relationship, of Armand's journey into becoming the "vampire papa" father figure who sacrifices Louis and resurrects him, whose version of "worshipful mercy" is, as it has always been, another layer of hell in disguise.

[voxofthevoid]

Yo, it's Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #16—first WIP Wednesday of the year, technically, since the last week ended up being excerpt games.

I still don't have any straight-up porn to post (only two such scenes left in the whole fic, and the next two chapters should cover those), but I did write two interlinked scenes featuring Yuuji, Gojou, and Tōji that should be entertaining on their own—and maybe tease some of the missing context 👀

“So he did come,” Satoru murmurs. “We have a guest, Yuuji.”

Yuuji drags his mind to the present—and the man lounging on Satoru’s front steps. “Tōji-san?”

A lazy wave. “Yo. Playing favorites, Six Eyes?”

“H-huh?”

“Not you, kid.”

“Nothing of the sort,” Satoru says pleasantly. “I’m perfectly willing to involve Megumi. Are you?”

Tōji continues to stare up at them, his eyes narrow slits despite the angle. When Yuuji looks at Satoru, he finds a bland smile that gives nothing away.

“Involve Fushiguro in what?” Yuuji asks. “Guys?”

“Training.” Satoru’s the one who replies, and it’s the same tone as before but…different somehow. “Tōji here would make a better teacher for you than for Megumi, but I’m far more versatile. There’s a lot I could teach your cute little son—isn’t that right, Papa-san?”

“Don’t push it, you little shit.”

Satoru’s grin widens unsettlingly. “Is that a no?”

“You know damn well you’re not touching that brat for three more years. Or did you get fucked so hard you forgot to count?”

Heat rushes to Yuuji’s face, but Satoru only laughs.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he says.

“What the hell is going on?” Yuuji grits out.

Two pairs of unfairly intense eyes snap to him. Yuuji holds Tōji’s gaze and ignores Satoru’s. Both these men are intimidating, but Yuuji’s been surviving Sukuna and his freakshow for fucking months.

“Heh.” Tōji stands up—and up and up, unfolding his entire immense bulk. He finishes it off with a leisurely stretch of his arms above his head; the fabric around his biceps cries for help. “At least you’ll be more fun than all this grunt work. Don’t disappoint me too much, pinkie.”

“Careful,” Satoru chimes in. His hand comes to rest on Yuuji’s shoulder, the touch light but the weight heavy. “You’re not allowed to break Yuuji.”

“How stupid do you think I am?”

“Stupid?” Satoru tilts his head, the movement oddly liquid. “Not at all. You do, however, have a track record of trying to kill hapless teenagers.”

Tōji snorts. “Hapless my ass. You and your dead boyfriend were monsters.”

Satoru’s hand flexes on Yuuji’s shoulder, tightening briefly before relaxing with a deliberation that makes Yuuji’s own knuckles ache. “Takes one to know one.”

“Sure does.” Tōji’s eyes sweep back to Yuuji. “Let’s see where you fall on the spectrum. Training wheels are off, kiddo. You’re playing with the big boys now.”

“Uh…” Yuuji looks between the two of them; Satoru’s smile tells him as much as Tōji’s sneer does—absolutely nothing. “I have no idea what you two are talking about.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll do fine. Tōji’s here to train your body. I’ll take over later to hone your spiritual senses. Ideally, I’d do both, but I have a demon to corral—and you two get along well enough. Still, don’t let him bully you, Yuuji.”

“You’re one to talk,” Tōji drawls. “The kid looks like he’d crawl out of his skin to get away from you.”

Yuuji freezes.

At his side, Satoru does too. Then the hand on Yuuji’s shoulder falls away.

Yuuji doesn’t miss it; he doesn’t.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Satoru says blandly, stepping back and out of Yuuji’s peripheral vision. “Yuuji has a key. I’ll be back before nightfall.”

There’s a soft, strange noise—displaced air, with an electric crackle. Yuuji’s heard it exactly once before, in that deserted road in front of Sukuna’s church a second before Satoru showed him it wasn’t so deserted after all.

When he turns around, Satoru’s gone.

“Idiot,” Tōji scoffs behind him. “Come on, pinkie. Let’s beat you into shape.”

-

The spar with Tōji ends very predictably.

There was a moment there at the start when Yuuji thought he might be able to put up a better fight. Sukuna is a lot more formidable than the high school bullies and yakuza wannabes who had been the extent of Yuuji’s fighting experience the last time he’d tangled with Tōji, and Yuuji’s never once won against Sukuna either, but he’s learned a lot.

He’s changed, in ways he can sometimes feel like stains in his soul.

But one second was all it took for Yuuji to realize just how much Tōji had been holding back the first and no-longer-only time they’d done this, and then he was getting real closely acquainted with the bark of a tree.

That first and no-longer-only fight feels like a joke now. It must have felt like one to Tōji. And it’s not like Yuuji had walked away from that either, but he’d felt all warm about Tōji’s appraisal afterward, and there’d been a fun thrill to the way Fushiguro had looked at him, his expression grudgingly impressed despite how he’d warned Yuuji away from his dad’s antics.

What just happened feels more like utter slaughter. Yuuji’s bones are unbroken and there are no holes in his body, but even the worst Sukuna had done to him hadn’t been so one-sided.

A pair of feet enter his peripheral vision.

Tōji’s dark eyes peer down at him. His expression is…no different than what he wears when he greets Yuuji at the door. Boredom, mostly, but with an edge to it that warrants straightened spines and ready hands.

He says, “You fight differently.”

Yuuji tries to ask a question, but all that comes out is a weak croak.

Tōji lets out an amused huff and raises a hand. It’s clutching a bottle of water. When did he—

“Ack—” Yuuji gasps and sputters as the water is poured onto his hot, swollen face, and some of it goes inside, soothing his throat almost by accident. It’s a miracle none of it ends up in his windpipe. “Tōji-san! Cut it out!”

“Look at that, you’re alive,” Tōji drawls, but the stream of water cuts off. “Just watering you. Hydration is important.”

Yuuji glares up at him. “I’m not a plant.”

“You’re about as useless as one right now.” Tōji crouches down, and Yuuji tries to brace himself, an instinct violently obtained in the last handful of minutes, but those hands don’t reach for him with the intent to hurt, just dangle between Tōji’s spread legs while he surveys Yuuji with unreadable eyes. “Eh, I guess you’ll do.”

“What did you mean?” Yuuji asks, blinking hard to make his eyes stop stinging from the water assault. The cuts all over his face and neck burn, but that’s easy enough to ignore. The rest of his body feels like one big bruise. “How am I fighting differently?”

“You’ve learned what real pain feels like.” Tōji’s voice is low, his eyes unblinking. “And it doesn’t bother you much. It shows. It always does.”

“…Oh.”

“Don’t let it get to your head. You’ve still got a ways to go.” Tōji cracks his neck, veins bulging along the thick column of it. “At least training you won’t be a total waste.”

Yuuji bites his lip, reminded of something he’d thought of in scattered bursts in the couple of minutes between Satoru leaving and Tōji laying into him. “Tōji-san, is it really alright to leave Fushiguro out of this?”

“Out of what? This ain’t some super cool club, pinkie. You’re here to get beaten up till you’re a little less likely to shit yourself and die if one of those fuckers that go bump in the night looks at you wrong. What, you want company in your misery?”

“No, that’s not—” Yuuji takes a deep breath, trying to figure out what he does want to say. “It’s nothing like that. I’m just worried. Sukuna knows him, he’s—sorry, it’s my fault, I should’ve—”

“Can it.” Tōji pulls a face, blowing out an explosive breath. “Kids these days. You didn’t do shit. This is just the ugly, festering face of reality. Most people just can’t see it. Sometimes, they’re lucky for it. Sometimes, they’re just dumb cattle. That’s the way it is.”

Yuuji can’t help thinking of what Satoru said yesterday about monsters and people—about food and feasting.

“Won’t he be safer,” he asks quietly, “if he can protect himself better?”

Tōji blinks, a languid motion that leaves his eyes heavy-lidded. “Is that what you think he’s doing with you?”

“H-huh?”

“Gojou,” Tōji clarifies, except it doesn’t explain anything at all.

“I don’t—”

“Make no mistake, kid—this is a farce. I don’t know why he’s bothering. I can guess, but I don’t really give a fuck. Just take what you’re given and hope you’ll live long enough to use it. It won’t be here. It won’t even be this year. I know too well what it takes to make a hunter worth the air they waste.” The base of the plastic bottle, still heavy with water, is brought to rest against Yuuji’s stomach. It taps idly, once. Then it presses unerringly into a bruise, and Yuuji’s left breathing slow and soft past the burst of pain. “At least you’ve got a good body. You even know how to use it. It’s still not enough. Megumi? He’d need to eat the thing in the church to even taste his own damn power. Now call that a fucking birthright.”

Yuuji swallows, tasting blood, and that’s just the cut inside his mouth from when a punch shoved his flesh against his own canine, but the undertone of rot is something else, isn’t it?

“Tōji-san…”

“You’re just brats who’d be useless in this fight.” Tōji rises to his feet in one fluid motion, turning away from Yuuji. “So stay brats.”

Yuuji breathlessly watches him take a few steps toward the open back door of Gojou’s house.

Then— “Satoru said you tried to kill him.”

Tōji pauses, doesn’t look back. “Sure did.”

And Yuuji’s not surprised, not really. He heard what these two said. But it was a lot, and he still doesn’t know what to feel about hapless teenagers and dead boyfriends and monsters.

He can still see the shape of a story; it’s not a good one.

“Was he my age then?”

“Who knows.”

“He was still young.”

“He was a brat too, if that’s what you’re getting at. Should’ve been an easy kill. Would’ve saved us all some trouble if I’d finished the damn job.” Tōji sticks a finger in his ear, giving it a violent shake. “Whatever. This pays better.”

[kathlare]

slim pickins

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In a late-night haze, Amelie confronts the emptiness of her fleeting connections and her own unresolved emotions. Through music, she channels her heartache, exposing her longing for something genuine.

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Warnings: angst, mention of anxiety, use of alcohol.

full masterlist // request over here!

September 18th, 2023 - New York City, NY

Amelie stood by the door, her fingers gently brushing Jack’s shoulder as he pulled his jacket on, preparing to leave. His eyes were still heavy with the afterglow of their latest encounter, but the expression on his face was entirely indifferent—exactly the way they both liked it.

—Goodnight,— Amelie said softly, leaning in to give him a quick, perfunctory kiss on the lips. He kissed her back lazily, as though he didn’t even care that they’d just slept together. He had already mentally checked out.

—Yeah, good night,— Jack muttered, giving her a once-over, but his eyes weren’t really seeing her. He turned on his heel, stepping out of her apartment without another word.

Amelie didn’t feel anything as she watched him walk away. No regret. No longing. No bitterness. Just a heavy emptiness that had become too familiar. She closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment, her eyes closed.

She needed something else. Something that didn’t make her feel like she was existing in a void. But everything she wanted seemed out of reach, like a dream fading in the morning light.

The soft click of the door locking broke her trance. She glanced down at the mess scattered around the floor—clothes strewn about like they had no purpose, like they weren’t even hers. She bent down, collecting the remnants of the night: a discarded heel here, a wrinkled shirt there. The room was a mirror to her mind—chaotic, fleeting, and empty.

Once she was dressed, Amelie sat down at the piano, her fingers tapping against the ivory keys. She didn’t even think about it; the melody came naturally, rising from the quiet ache inside her chest. The need to write. To scream her frustration into the only medium that ever made sense.

She closed her eyes, letting her fingers find the keys, the notes growing more urgent as her thoughts took shape. The words tumbled out before she could stop them, raw and desperate, slipping from her lips as the piano supported her.

—"Guess I'll end this life alone,"— she hummed under her breath, her fingers gliding over the keys in a gentle rhythm. The melancholy of the music seemed to match the weight on her heart, the feeling that no matter what she did, she'd always end up right back where she started. Alone. Empty.

—"I am not dramatic, these are just the thoughts that pass right through me,"— she sang softly, her voice low and almost breathless, catching on the sadness that lingered in every note. The song was forming itself, pouring out of her like an untold story, one she'd been too afraid to admit to herself for a long time.

Amelie’s fingers danced across the piano keys, a slow, deliberate pace matching the heaviness in her chest. The melody had taken on a life of its own, tugging at the rawness she could never quite bury, no matter how much she tried to keep it hidden beneath the distractions. She couldn’t escape the feeling—the ache, the longing—for something real, something that wasn’t tainted by shallow encounters or fleeting moments of distraction.

Her mind kept drifting back to Lando. She couldn’t help it. It was like a magnetic pull, drawing her thoughts back to him even though she’d tried so hard to push him out of her life. But no matter how many men like Jack she kissed or how many times she distracted herself with someone who didn’t matter, the truth was inescapable: she couldn’t have him.

—"A boy who's jacked and kind, can't find his ass to save my life,"— she sang softly, the words flowing naturally. The line made her snicker under her breath, the bitterness mingling with her grief. The men she met, like Jack, were just placeholders, people to pass the time when what she truly wanted was out of reach. And Lando… well, Lando was still out of reach. Always out of reach.

Her fingers faltered on the keys for a moment, a flash of something too painful sweeping through her. She blinked away the sting in her eyes and continued, pushing herself forward,

but she couldn't finish the line. Not yet. The weight of it all—the unspoken words, the unresolved feelings—had gathered too quickly, drowning her in a wave of emotion she wasn’t ready to confront. Her throat tightened, and her fingers came to an abrupt halt on the keys.

Amelie took a deep breath, pushing the chair back from the piano, feeling the sting of her own inadequacy. She wasn’t ready. The song was too raw, too honest. And she wasn’t sure she could expose that part of herself to the world, especially not in a song that so perfectly captured the messy, tangled emotions she couldn’t make sense of.

Her eyes flickered over to the window, the lights of New York shimmering against the dark night sky. There was something beautiful about the city in moments like this. She felt small here—insignificant even—but in the best way possible. It was like everything she wanted to forget was swallowed by the vastness of it all.

But the pain didn’t go away. It never did.

She grabbed her phone, checking the time. 2:43 a.m. Another night wasted, another evening spent in someone else’s arms to drown out the memories of Lando. She tried to push the thought away, but it lingered, like a shadow she couldn’t outrun.

Amelie tossed her phone aside, frustrated by the constant loop of her thoughts. She stood, pacing around the apartment, feeling the tension knotting her shoulders. It had been months since she’d seen Lando. And not just seen him, but spoken to him.

He was gone. He had moved on, and yet, she couldn’t seem to let go.

—Fucking idiot,— she muttered under her breath, sitting down on the couch. Her head lolled back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. What was it that made him so hard to forget?

The truth was simple, and it hurt like hell: she loved him. And that was why it hurt. That’s why she kept falling back into this cycle of numbing herself with other distractions—other people like Jack, who were easy, uncomplicated, and most of all, fleeting. None of it was real. Not like what she had wanted with Lando.

She stood and walked to the window, pulling back the blinds. The city was alive with the hum of late-night traffic, the occasional honk of a car horn carrying in the distance. But there was no sense of peace in the view, not for her.

She rubbed her temples and walked back to the piano. It was time to finish the song. She didn’t have much left in her, but she knew the ending was there—just a few more lines to get out.

She sat down and placed her fingers on the keys once more, letting the sorrow in her heart guide her hands. The words started to pour out again, but this time, they were heavier. More honest.

—"Jesus, what's a girl to do?"— she sang softly, her voice trembling with the weight of it all.

The line caught in her throat, and she paused. It had been too much, too damn much. She wasn’t just singing about the lack of good men or the endless cycle of disappointment. She was singing about herself. About how tired she was of playing these games. Of pretending she didn’t care.

She pressed her lips together and tried again.

—"This boy doesn't even know the difference between there, their, and they are."— The line was sharp, biting. But it was true. She wasn’t talking about Jack anymore. She was talking about all of them. All the men who didn’t understand, who couldn’t see her for what she was. All the ones who couldn’t measure up to the one she wanted.

Her fingers hovered over the keys, a sudden heaviness gripping her chest. She had spent so long pretending she didn’t care. Pretending that her feelings for Lando were something she could ignore. But the truth was—God, the truth was that Lando had always been it for her. And she couldn’t have him.

Not now. Not after everything that had happened. After he’d moved on to someone else, and after she had pushed him away when he needed her the most. She was the one who had shut him out, and now, it was too late.

—"A boy who's nice that breathes..."— her voice faltered as she reached the next line, but this time, it didn’t come out. The ache in her chest rose, unbearable, and she slammed her hand down onto the keys in frustration, the discordant sound filling the empty apartment.

Her eyes stung with the beginnings of tears. She wiped them away angrily, trying to push through the overwhelming emotions. But it wasn’t working. The song, the words, the music—it was too much. It was all too much.

Amelie stood abruptly, shaking her head as if she could physically shake off the weight of it all. Her legs carried her into the kitchen, and she opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine. She didn’t even bother with a glass, just drank straight from the bottle. The alcohol burned down her throat, but it didn’t numb the ache inside her. Nothing did.

She leaned against the counter, staring at her reflection in the window, the city lights flickering behind her.

—Why do I keep doing this to myself?— she asked aloud, her voice low. She hated the fact that she had so many questions with no answers, and the most infuriating one of all was why she couldn't stop thinking about Lando. Why she couldn’t stop wanting him.

She wasn’t going to let herself break down. Not now. Not again.

She tossed the wine bottle into the recycling bin and wiped her face, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t keep wallowing in this. She had to keep going. There was no other option. The world didn’t stop for her sadness.

But as she walked back into the living room, the song still hanging in the air like an unfinished thought, the answer to her internal question lingered.

Because she loved him.

No matter what she did, Lando was always going to be the one she couldn’t forget. The one she couldn’t walk away from.

And that’s when she realized—there was no fixing her. Not anymore.

Not when her heart still beat for the boy who didn’t fight for her.

[tacitusk1llwhore]

Ok but Arthur Morgan as a girl dad. I’m a firm believer in any of my Arthur lives AUs that eventually he does have children, and when he does…they’re all girls. I feel like he would completely embody this song as a parent.

Anyway here are some HCs for girl dad Arthur.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

⋆˚✿˖°When he first found out his partner was pregnant he was obviously a nervous wreck, but also cautiously optimistic. This was his second chance and he intended to go all in. Then he found himself with a baby girl and he was stumped all over again. He never saw himself as a soft man, not a man to raise a little girl but the second he laid eyes on that little face he was besotted, and nothing could change that.

⋆˚✿˖° Puts his babies footprints, name and date of birth in his journal, sketches them constantly—I don’t make the rules.

⋆˚✿˖° Learns how to braid very quickly. Sure he could braid a horse’s mane or tail but being gentle for a tender headed squirming toddler?? That’s an entirely different beast. Many times did he have to listen to “ow!” A million times over as he worked only for the braid to come out a mess with pieces left out all over the place in his pursuit of being as gentle as he could be. Now he’s a pro and when he sees any of his little ones brushing their hair out of their eyes he’s quick to move over and get it fixed for them.

⋆˚✿˖°He’s a HUGE softie. He can’t bring himself to scold his girls, ever, even if they deserve it. He’s terrified of turning out like his father, an angry, violent man. He wants his girls to trust him, to see him as a source of comfort and stability, not a dictator or someone to fear. With his first he got frustrated after a fit that seemed to never end and gave her a swat on the bottom, he felt so guilty he cried that night and hasn’t laid a hand on any of his girls since, cycle breaking takes time, and usually comes with a few bumps.

⋆˚✿˖°HATES the “I bet you’re wishin’ for a boy!” Comments. He’s always quick to shut it down, especially if he’s with his daughters “Nah, reckon my girls are just fine…Ain’t wishin’ for nothin’.” He never wants his girls to feel less than, and is very adamant to them that he doesn’t need a son to be happy, he’s just happy to have them.

⋆˚✿˖°His daughters would 100% have unique, nature themed names, Aurora, Willow, Aspen, Lily—or on the flip side they’d be named after women in his life that had passed on at some point: Beatrice (after his mother), Bessie, Susan, even Eliza.

⋆˚✿˖°Is absolutely not above playing with his girls, though I feel like rough housing and wrestling is definitely on the table he’s attended more than a few tea parties in his time, as well as being locked out of rooms in his own house with the claim that it was “girls only.”

⋆˚✿˖°his journal is filled with not only milestones, and little stories but also toddler scribbles and drawings. Blobs of shape and color that they would affectionately say was a drawing of him or some animals around their farm. He’d always make sure to write what they said it was under the drawings for when they’re older.

Extra: Arthur is 100% the dad that throws his kids way too high in the air to give his partner a heart attack, when finally they say something his girls are so used to being rough and tumble they’re the one to negotiate one more time with their worried parent.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

This is probably bad but I think I might do more head canons both SFW like this and NSFW. Asks are open for requests! :)

[itsnesss]

Could you do an Axel fan fick were the reader is Sam up until the kiss but she kisses him back and they go toger to his room .if you want or you could do some soft fluff after the kiss

𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬 | axel kovacevik × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | smut, slow burn, explicit content, p in v, protected sex, oral sex

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You had gone for a walk on the beach, looking for a moment to breathe after everything that had happened during the day. The sea breeze was cool, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore had an almost hypnotic effect. As you walked, you stopped, noticing a familiar figure in the distance. It was Axel, moving with precision and focus as he practiced a kata.

You exchanged a few words about the tournament before he asked to join you on your walk back to the hotel.

"Has anything stood out to you so far?" he asked after a while, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.

You smiled, this time with more enthusiasm.

"La Sagrada Familia left me speechless. And the tapas… I think I’ve eaten more these days than in my entire life," you said.

Axel chuckled softly, his laughter so natural that it made you feel lighter.

"Yeah, the food here is dangerous. It makes you forget you need to stay in shape for the tournament."

"Definitely. Though I think walking through all those narrow streets and climbing stairs has balanced it out a bit."

The conversation flowed effortlessly between the two of you, but as you crossed a narrow alley, a pair of familiar figures blocked your way. Kwon and Yoon stood there, their expressions full of mockery and challenge.

"How interesting—spending time with someone from the rival team," Kwon said, crossing his arms and stepping forward.

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the day pressing harder on your shoulders.

"Move aside, Kwon."

"How do you say it?" he teased.

"Move."

"I’ll ask one more time—how do you say it?"

"Move," you repeated firmly.

What followed happened quickly: the tension rose, Yoon attempted to attack Axel, and you had to step in to stop the fight. The sound of distant sirens ended the confrontation, and Kwon and Yoon disappeared with promises that this wasn’t over.

Axel grabbed your arm, concerned, and the two of you left the scene before the police arrived.

When you finally reached the beach again, you both collapsed onto the sand, trying to catch your breath.

"Thanks for defending me," you said after a moment. There was sincerity in your voice, but also a hint of guilt.

Axel, lying back with his hands behind his head, turned to look at you. His eyes reflected a mix of worry and something deeper you couldn’t quite define.

"No one should talk to you like that. I don’t care who they are."

That intensity in his gaze left you speechless. When you gently touched his arm to thank him again, Axel didn’t hesitate. He leaned toward you, and his lips met yours in a kiss that was soft at first, almost hesitant, but soon filled with emotion and longing.

When you pulled away, both of you were breathing heavily, as if the moment had stolen all the air around you.

"Well… that was unexpected," you said, trying to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks.

Axel smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"I guess it was. But I don’t regret it."

You lowered your gaze, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"Me neither," you admitted.

Axel looked at you for a moment longer, and before you could say anything else, he kissed you again, this time with more urgency, as if he wanted to make sure you understood how he felt.

"We should get back to the hotel," he murmured against your lips, but he didn’t make any effort to move, and neither did you.

When you crossed the hotel lobby, you barely exchanged a glance with the receptionist. Everything seemed like a blur until you finally stood in front of his room. Axel quickly unlocked the door, not letting go of your hand, and once inside, he shut the door behind him.

"I can’t help myself," he muttered, his voice low as his hands cupped your face, and his lips found yours with urgency.

The kiss was intense, a mix of everything you had both been holding back. It left you breathless, but you didn’t want it to stop. His hands moved down your arms, finding your waist and pulling you even closer. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, and your heart was racing so fast you wondered if he could hear it too.

"Axel…" you managed to say between kisses, your voice barely a whisper.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he said, pausing just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was intense but filled with tenderness.

You shook your head, taking his face in your hands.

"I don’t want you to stop," you said softly.

It was honest, and Axel seemed to feel it. He kissed you again, this time with even more passion.

His hands moved to the lower part of your back, pressing you against his body. You felt his erection pressing against your pelvis, and a delicious fear coursed through your entire body.

"Axel" you said again, trying to control yourself, but it was difficult, especially when his fingers found the hem of your blouse and began to rise.

He moved just enough for you to take off your top, and then he took off his shirt himself. The sight of his strong muscles took your breath away. With his dark eyes shining with desire, he was even more attractive.

"Damn," you whispered when his hands found your breasts.

Axel kissed your neck, the curve of your shoulder, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You let out a soft moan, surprised, but your body seemed to know what to do. Your fingers buried themselves in his dark hair as Axel licked your nipple, giving you a pleasure you didn't know existed.

"Ah" you let out a scream when he moved to the other breast. You could feel your legs weak, and you knew you wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked, releasing the nipple to look at you with concern. He was adorable, that mix of tenderness and lust.

You nodded your head. "Yes. Much better than I've been in a long time".

Axel smiled against your skin before moving down to your ribs, kissing every curve and every indentation. He reached your waistband and, after a few seconds of hesitation, he took them off.

Your body tensed with surprise, but Axel seemed to understand that it was just that: surprise. He stopped, caressing you gently.

"If you don't want to continue, I can stop" he whispered against your thighs.

But you didn't want it to stop. You wanted to know what it felt like to be with him like that, with his skin against yours, his fingers exploring you, and his lips kissing every part of you.

"Don't stop" you asked, and your words seemed to be enough.

Axel moved upwards, kissing your belly button, your sides, climbing back up to your breasts. His fingers moved to your underwear, and he removed it gently, kissing the parts he uncovered along the way.

"Axel" you whispered, when his lips found your sex.

"What's going on?" he asked without stepping back, his eyes shining with lust and curiosity.

"Nothing. It's just that I feel so..."

"Sexy?"

You laughed a little.

"I think that word doesn't come close enough".

Axel moved down, kissing your thighs, and then his tongue found your sex. Your body arched in surprise, the pleasure more intense than you had ever felt.

"Oh..."

The pressure inside you grew rapidly, your breathing became irregular, and before you knew it, you were screaming with pleasure.

Axel didn't stop, his mouth continued to lick you gently as you relaxed. Then, he moved up and gently kissed your lips.

"How do you feel?" he asked. His breath smelled like you.

"Incredible" you smiled.

Axel nodded, before kissing you again. His erection pressed against your leg, and you knew he still hadn't found pleasure. "What can I do for you?" you asked, not knowing what to expect.

"Just let me kiss you" he said, his voice still deep. And that's what he did, kissing your neck, your shoulders, your breasts. He caressed you gently until you felt relaxed again.

"Say it," he murmured after a while.

"What to say?"

Axel kissed your lips softly before responding.

"Let me do it".

You understood and felt your face burning. "It's fine" you said.

"Are you sure?"

You nodded your head.

"I am".

Axel moved to take off his clothes and settled between your legs. "Tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable".

You needed a moment to talk.

"It's fine".

Axel said it, kissing your neck softly as he moved against you. His erection brushed against your sex, but it didn't enter yet. I was waiting, and when he started to move, it was slow, as if he wasn't sure what would happen.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

"Mmmh" he replied.

"Do you want more?"

The question seemed to confuse him, but then, understanding shone in his eyes.

"Yes".

You caressed his shoulders gently, and Axel moved faster, his hips pushing against yours. His breathing became rapid, and you felt his erection harden even more inside him.

"Axel!" you shouted, feeling the pleasure grow inside you.

And then, it was him who screamed, his body shaking as he reached orgasm. He collapsed onto you, kissing your cheek.

"Oh, gods..." he said, his breathing irregular.

"Mmm" you smiled. Your whole body was a delicious pain, and you knew it would hurt the next day, but it was worth it.

After a while, Axel got up and returned with a towel and some water. He helped you clean up, and then lay down beside you.

"Do you know what I loved most about this?" he asked while hugging you.

"What?"

"That you said my name".

You laughed a little.

"Why?"

"Because ever since I saw you, I've wanted to hear you say it while I was fucking you".

[marciaillust]

I added some colours to her :)