#it makes me so happy to see them be so happy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luveline · 2 days ago

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

You try to break up with your boyfriend. Aaron just wants to know why. (And what he can do to fix it.) [4k]

c: fem, stripper!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff epilogue, suggestive themes mdni. requested here

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I don’t want to see you anymore.

The text doesn’t compute at first. He reads it twice. Reads the sender’s name, his heart stopped clean in his chest.

He puts down his pen.

The idea that the text wasn’t meant for him crosses his mind, but that might further break his heart. He knows you have clients, but you don’t contact them outside of the club.

His second thought is that he’d been a client unknowingly, but he made it clear to you those few months ago that he liked you as you, not as a service provider, and not as something to be bought. You thought he was trying to acquire you as a private escort. He explained it as what it was truthfully, if vulnerably.

He’s being broken up with, he surmises. Over text. By a woman he adores, who he’d thought was happy. Aaron opens his phone to call you, clicking your contact, bringing it to his ear. You don’t answer. He calls again and he’s clearly declined three rings in.

He puts his phone down and has a few minutes of unbreathable heartbreak. Just a few minutes, his hand to his stomach, trying to think of things as reasonably as he can.

Aaron doesn’t care that you’re a stripper. He might’ve at first. Denied his attraction to you, because of course he had feelings for you when you were standing against the side of the club in your dancing lingerie, who wouldn’t fall in love with you? Every fool lucky enough to see you undressed must assume the same thing. He thought it wouldn’t work, and that you’d never be interested in a man like him.

Interviews for information lended themselves to rare moments of conversation. He liked how you talked, how your eyes moved to his, the way you watched his mouth. Your unusual friendship with Spencer drew you closer, and activated a rare seed of jealousy within him that helped him place you in his life. He had real, tangible feelings for you.

And now it’s over.

He scrunches his eyes closed and gets up from his desk. Puts his coat on, but leaves his things where they are on his desk.

“Hotch?” Morgan asks as he descends the steps down from his office into the bullpen.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

“What happened?”

Aaron turns to Morgan, hiding his panic as well as he’s able to. “I have a small emergency. It’s fine. Can you make sure things are okay here?”

“Hotch?” Morgan asks again.

Aaron keeps on going. He tries your number again on the way down. Three times, a fourth by the time he’s at the parking garage.

The fifth time, you answer.

He almost breaks the phone, its plastic body creaking in his hand. “Honey?” he asks.

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Aaron. Is it hard to understand?”

He’s taken aback. Some part of him had held onto the hope that it was a mistake. “Yes,” he says slowly, struggling to pull his keys out as his car comes into view, “it is.”

“I don’t want to be with you.”

“Have I upset you?”

“Would that make it easier?”

“No. I don’t think anything would make it any easier. Honey, this feels so sudden. Can’t we talk about it?”

“I don’t want to see you.”

“Please.” He can’t imagine never seeing you again. Just a few days ago he was sitting at the dinner table with you laughing opposite, your socked toes brushing his ankle. “Please, give me the chance to fix this.”

“Aaron, it’s not really fixable. Please don’t call me again.”

“Y/N,” he says, firmer now. Anger leaks into his tone —what’s going on? “Let me come over. We need to talk about this.”

“No–”

“It’s not fair to me for you to do it over the phone.”

“…Okay. Fine. I’m at home, but I have work at six.”

“I’m on my way.”

He hangs up. Your terse allowance is all he needs to get in the car and drive, checking his watch. There’s plenty of time between now and six. He can figure out what’s wrong and hopefully change your mind.

He thinks about it more seriously as he’s parking outside of your place. Perhaps he doesn’t want to change your mind. You aren’t acting like you, none of your kindness can be found in such a swift dismissal, but he thinks of your foot under the table, your sock rubbing along his ankle without comment.

He takes the stairs to your apartment. It’s not the nicest place to stay, but it’s far from a slum, either. He doesn’t worry about you when you’re home beyond the usual everyday fears: Is she eating? Sleeping? Having a good day?

Now he’s thinking, What did I do?

He gets to your apartment and pauses at the threshold. After a moment's deliberation, he knocks.

“Come in, Aaron.”

He pulls down the handle and lets himself in. You’ve mail piled on the sideboard and your shoes tucked under it, a coat rack further in bragging scarves and coats and jackets of all different colours. He’s always liked the interior of your apartment. It doesn’t feel as cold as his own, parts of your personality peeking in through everything, from the flowered tiles in the bathroom to the glass lampshade in the bedroom.

You’re sitting in the kitchen with the light off. “Hey,” he says, voice already laden with relief he doesn’t mean to share.

“Hi.”

“Can I sit down?”

You gesture for him to do as he likes.

Aaron sits down at your table. It’s a small square just big enough to share dinner, plain wood edged in a darker slate grey outline. Sometimes when you’re feeling especially pretty, you’ll lean heavily on an elbow and grin at him, enticing him in for a kiss.

“What’s this all about?” he asks quietly.

“I just think we’re… at the end of our relationship.”

You don’t sound truthful. He knew there was something strange in your voice over the phone.

“What’s making you feel that way?”

“Does it matter?”

Again, avoiding and evasive.

He meets your gaze unflinchingly. “I care about you. I love you,” he says. “I know I can’t be who you pictured for yourself, and if you really can’t see a future for us, then… I’ll have seen it alone. I just wish I could understand this sudden change. Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re not who I picture for myself,” you agree.

“No?” he asks.

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong, but I can’t see us together. We’re not the right fit.”

You twist a ring around your middle finger. He thinks he’s starting to understand. “Do you think we’re not the right fit?”

“Please don’t use your psychoanalysis on me.”

“It’s not psychoanalysis, sweetheart, it’s– I know you.” He grimaces. “I’d like to think I do. And I’m allowing myself the audacity to believe you were happy with me just a few days ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind?”

You stare at your two-toned table. Your mouth opens to talk, little but air making it out. Your shoulders begin tightening like you’ve been keyed between them, twisting and twisting.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask.

Dramatic, he’d hope you could say you don’t love him, or don’t care about him enough to let him convince you the rest of the way. “Is this really what you want?” he asks instead.

Your staring turns to squinting. With a start, he watches a small tear drip from the corner of your eye to your nostril, to your cupid's bow.

“No,” you say carefully, “it’s not what I want. I don’t like you being against me.”

“Then what’s making you feel this way?”

You cover your eyes with one hand. “I wanted to do this over the phone,” you say in a squeeze.

He reaches for you but doesn’t touch. “I couldn’t let you.”

“I just want you to be happy,” you say, so high he can barely understand you. “I’ll never be like you, Aaron. You’re so smart, and you’ve done so much. You’re a hero, and you must look so stupid with me. What do you think people say when they realise what I am?”

“It doesn’t matter to me what they say. I know you, and they don’t.”

“What about what I think?”

“What do you think?”

You wipe your face roughly, eyes lit with an anger he’s unprepared for. “I told you, don’t psychoanalyse me. I don’t want to have to explain it, I just want to say what I have to say. I don’t want to be with you because you won’t be happy, and neither will I.”

Aaron isn’t too prideful to recognise when he needs to fight for what he wants. He reaches over the table and takes your arm into his hand, picking it up, feeling down The length of it until he’s curled his hand over your smaller fingers. “We are happy,” he says softly, giving your hand a small shake. “I understand where you’re coming from. When we first met, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d be here with you now. I do wonder what people think when they ask me what you do and I tell them you’re a performer. I know we agreed to it, but there are moments where I feel like I’m being cruel to you. But just because there’s a stigma surrounding what you do, it doesn’t mean that you’re any lesser than me. You’re not less intelligent, or less accomplished. We chose different paths and I’m glad we did. If you weren’t a dancer I never would’ve met you.”

“Do you know how it feels for me to come home to you sometimes?” you ask weakly.

“I’d hope it feels as it does for me. Every time I see you, I’m relieved.”

“Aaron, I get this rush of safety, like you’re– I’m finally safe. I can take care of myself, you know that, but now I have you it’s that I don’t even want to. And that’s stupid. I know that that’s stupid.”

“What I’m thinking,” he says, soft, not as worried about being without you now as he is of the horrible way you’re feeling, “is that you’ve thought about all of this a lot. I’m glad you’ve taken time to reflect on us and your life, but I wish you’d thought more about what we both want.”

“I want you to be happy,” you argue, as you had a few moments ago.

“And I’m never happier than when we’re together.” He shrugs. “Love isn’t about work. Your job shapes you as mine shapes me, but you have to know that who you are is what’s important.”

“I don’t know who I am…”

“I know exactly who you are,” he says, rubbing a loving thumb over your knuckles.

“I’m… I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, on the phone. I knew if I talked to you like this I’d be too much of a coward to really see it through.”

“I see. You’ve planned my heartbreak weeks in advance.”

You shake your head sadly. “Aaron, we’re not good for each other. You make me this awful, weak version of me, and I’m no good.”

“We have been nothing but happy since we met.” Aaron pulls your hand up and kisses the side of your wrist. He isn’t ashamed of you. He doesn’t make you weak, you aren’t. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like we’re from different worlds, but it’s not that melodramatic. You’re my partner. I love you. It’s hard not to think about what others think of us, but I know exactly what I think of you, and I know what you think of me, too.”

You share a look.

“I’ve never heard you talk so much,” you say, your frown fading. “I’m sorry.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“When I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassing,” you mumble.

“You aren’t embarrassing. Please, put the thought out of your head.”

“Thought out of my head,” you repeat, still mumbling as you flex your fingers, pushing them between his and intertwining your hands. You bring them linked to your forehead and take a heavy breath.

“Do you really want to break up?” he asks softly.

Your breath warms his arm. “No.”

“You can have the things you want, you know? I imagine that there are people who laugh when I tell them about you, but you have to know that their opinions would never matter to me.” He pulls his hand from your head to encourage you to meet his eyes. “No one else matters but me and you. We don’t have to factor in other people. We can just be together.”

“I’m not worth all the fuss,” you say under your breath.

“What, this fuss? Honey, a few weeks ago you cried in my lap because I got you that cake from the bakery. And you know what? I didn’t want you to cry, but getting to rub your back?” He chances a smile. “That made my night.”

“You like making girls cry.”

“Yes,” he says, trying not to grin like a fool as you stand from your chair and put yourself in front of him. He is no saint. He pulls you onto his thighs and wraps an arm around the small of your back, your legs either side of him. “That’s my goal in life, sweetheart.” His voice falls to a whisper as you hang your head against him, tip of your nose to a rough cheek. “Making you cry…”

Your arms creep to his neck. Resting on him, rather than hugging. He doesn’t mind, he’ll do the hard work.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“It’s okay.” He turns your face with his to press his lips to your cheek. “It’s alright, honey, bumps in the road happen with everyone.”

“All my fault.”

“Maybe next time, if you feel so strongly about something, you can just extend me that little bit of faith and… know that I’m here for you. Even if it did mean we wouldn’t be together, it doesn’t have to be that you’re alone, making such a big decision. Valiant,” he adds, enjoying the warmth of you seeping into his shirt, his face, his neck where your wrist is laid against it. “You’re not a coward. But I wish you wouldn’t be this brave about breaking my heart.”

“Stop making me feel guilty.”

His laugh is a breath against your cheek. “No, it’s fine, isn’t it? Use me and abuse me.”

“Shut up. Stop, what is this weird guilt tripping you’re doing?” You laugh at his absurdity. “I’d never abuse you.”

“I know. Just step on me a bit.”

“Stop, stop,” you mumble, your voice turning slowly from self-pitying to honey, all that love for him he knew you still had like threads of gold shooting through it, “I don’t wanna step on you, I never would…”

“Just rough me up a little.”

“Never.” You press your face to his neck. “Thank you for not letting me do it.”

“I won’t let you go so easily.” His hand trails up your back, feeling the softness of you beneath your t-shirt. Fat, muscle, all of it familiar, and treasured by his touching.

He squeezes you rather tightly, then, but you don’t complain, you just sigh.

“It’s not that you’re not who I picture for myself, like I said before,” you confess, leaning all your weight against him, barely held up by your legs either side of him. “You weren’t, but I didn’t realise that I could have you. I didn’t really know men like you existed. I should’ve known I was looking in the wrong age bracket.”

“That’s not very nice. In my line of work they call that a feedback sandwich, honey. Something cruel between nice things to distract me.”

“Sorry. Just had to get it in.”

He considers your teasing a return to normalcy, guiding your head away from his with a hand to the back of your neck. “If this was a ploy to make me leave work early, consider it successful.”

“I know your attention usually falls to other places, Mr. Hotchner–” You burst into giggles as he pinches the back of your neck, but it’s only to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your parted lips as your laughter fades away.

You scrunch his shirt in your hand and kiss him nicely.

“Sorry,” you say.

“Forgiven.” Even if he did almost go into cardiac arrest at his desk. “I like begging to stay. It builds character.”

“How long will you be like this?” you ask, shaking your head slowly, your smile poorly hidden.

You’d needed a reminder, is all. Aaron isn’t solely business and sternness, he’s an idiot, your idiot, who likes to tease you, and doesn’t care who knows that. When he’s working he’s one person, and when he’s with you, he’s another. Both have their qualities and faults, but only one version is the one he needs to be with you.

“At my age it’s perfectly normal to have a young and beautiful wife,” he says. “You’ve seen some of the other Section’s worker’s wives.”

“I’m not that young,” you say.

“So you admit it?”

You reward him with a tired sigh, cuddling into his collar.

—

…I'll never be your beast of burden. So let's go home and draw the curtains…

Aaron’s humming from the bedroom. He knows every classic rock song to exist, every word to every Beatles song. When the chorus comes, he sings under his breath, but you can hear him regardless. “Am I rough enough, am I rich enough? I’m not too blind…” he fades off.

The music hums under your feet. Record player open on the floor, his Some Girls vinyl on the plate.

You press a hand down your side.

To inspire less worry on your part, you and Aaron are trying to be more open about the other sides of your lives. His work feels alien to you, and you worry that yours is dirty to him, despite reassurance that a job is a job. You know that already, but you can’t make yourself believe that he’s as happy as he could be if you were, say, a checkout girl.

You’d make a cute checkout girl, he’d said.

This is cute, too. Babydoll lingerie with feather edgings, starkly white against your skin. You fluff out the ends and neaten the crotch of your panties. Nothing is on show that shouldn’t be, but it’s still lingerie. It’s meant to excite.

“Honey,” he says, dulcet tone carrying to the bathroom, “are you stuck again?”

You laugh. “I bet you hope so.”

“That’s accusatory in nature.”

“I’m coming.” You give it a last glance in the mirror and head into the bedroom.

Aaron’s sat against your headboard, flowery pillowcases behind his head and back. He discards the little figurine he’d been playing with out of boredom and looks you up and down, corners of his lips curling.

“Home only,” he says.

“I knew you’d say that.”

“You look stunning.” His eyes seem darker. All pupil.

“I have to wear some of these at the club, Aaron, that’s why I bought them.”

Something in your voice makes him smile. “You said I could veto the ones that are too beautiful.”

“I said too slutty.”

“Honey, they’re all revealing in their ways. And I don’t have a problem with it…” He takes a breath. “Much. But some of these are meant for…”

“The man who loves me?”

“Exactly.”

He’d said something similar about the light blue set with darker flowers, the black set that showed the curves of your chest, and especially about the pink one-piece with white ribbons. That one gave him pause.

“Spin?” he asks.

One day it might bother Aaron that you dance, but for now he’s gently approving. Just wants you to be happy. So you do a little spin without any attempt to be sexy and beam when he whistles.

“Beautiful. Really, honey, that’s the nicest so far.”

“I have a confession.”

“Yeah?”

“This one was for you.”

He’d know if you were lying. “For me?” he says, in that tone bordering stern, as much of his professionalism as you’re used to hearing these days.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t,” he says, seductions gone as he tips his head back into a pillow patterned with lavender and peony. “Unless you’re done trying those on, I don’t want to hear it.”

“This is the last one.”

“In that case.” He covers his face with a cushion.

You look down. Your stomach is a little bloated from lunch, and you have a shaving rash on your left knee, but Aaron won’t mind. He never does. Without worry, you tread to the side of the bed and climb onto it, one leg over his lap. The last time you’d been sitting in his lap, you’d been teary-eyed and regretful. Fuck, what was I thinking? you ask yourself, slipping a hand under his rising shirt to feel his abdomen. It’ll never not be weird, the FBI man and his stripper girlfriend, but it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but him and you.

You ease the pillow down his face.

“Are you blushing, Aaron?” you ask.

“Not purposefully.”

“You look a little… hot.”

“That makes two of us.”

It starts slowly. The heat of you atop him, the pillows moved out of the way. You didn’t expect him to stay unbothered as you paraded your new spoils, but his willpower is remarkable, and he only breaks when you let yourself settle on his lap. His big hand cups your face.

“That’s funny.” You lift up enough to be in kissing range, but don’t kiss. You just wait for him to react, holding your weight off of his chest.

He finds the small of your back and drags. Your gasp isn’t your own, a breathy, excited thing as he brings your face to his for a kiss. Your lips almost immediately part in anticipation of his eagerness, of his hand on the back of your neck, and the unflinching heat of his mouth as he turns his head. Your noses brush. He wades in deeper, his own breath already failing him as the bridges of your nose press hard.

They aren’t rough kisses, but there’s something desperate there. He holds you to him until he can’t, ushering you onto your back, his weight bearing down sudden and steady.

“I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” he utters, stroking your cheek, edging back in to kiss you before you can reply.

You wrap an arm behind his back and hike your leg, soft thigh naked and waiting for his touch. You didn’t nearly lose me, you think. To be lost, you’d have to be something worth losing, and you’re not sure you are, but Aaron?

“I don’t think you could,” you mumble, forcing him to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the line of your throat. He nips at your neck, a shudder racing through you.

“I have no intent of letting it come that close again, sweetheart.”

His hand dances up your side to the soft hill of your chest.

You hold the hair from his face and let him kiss you. He’s here to stay, no matter how odd a pairing you might make. You love him. That’s all he cares about.

“Want me to do that thing you like?” you offer softly, mildly playful.

He laughs into your neck. “No,” he says, “I think tonight is about you, hm? You’re all dressed up. I think that deserves a reward.”

You knew he’d like the white babydoll.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

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mv1simp · 21 hours ago

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Vegas, Baby (I Wanna Ride) ♥️

Max Verstappen x Friend!Reader

welcome to vegas baby, give me money, give me diamonds, give me rubies baby (get on your knees and beg me please to let you in me)

Tonight's a big night for the Redbull team in Las Vegas. Max Verstappen just won his 4th WDC, and you, his good friend, just won your first F2 race. After months of rising sexual tension, the line between you and Max starts blurring during a wild Vegas afterparty. Nothing beats crowning a 4th championship than passionate celebration sex, right?

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom! Max, sub! Reader who’s playing mind games to seduce him, size kink, praise kink, cream pie, morally dubious relationship status but no cheating, drunk passionate sex with max post WDC is literally the epitome of my dreams

Max! The blonde Dutchman’s concentration shifts from one of the many post Las Vegas Grand Prix interviews he’s been coerced into to hear your familiar voice excitedly calling for him. His cute smile turns into an even more gorgeous grin as he spots you making a beeline across the media pen, long curls flying behind you. The cameras rapidly start stuttering as you practically leap into Max’s arms when he tightly hugs you back, lifting you up off the ground easily. Congratulations, Maxie! you gush excitedly, beaming up at him with genuine emotion. I’m so happy for you, you deserve this win so much!

Pink dusts the cheeks of the now 4 time world champion from your attention as he looks down at your shorter frame, his muscular arms snugly around your waist. You couldn’t care less about the sticky champagne drenching his suit, because your own RB suit is wet from your celebration of winning the F2 race earlier that day. You too, schatje, Max returns warmly, the paparazzi completely ignored. Winning your first race, in Las Vegas too, from P11? I’m so proud of you! Now you're blushing as he tousles your hair affectionately. You two are just good friends, of course, and Max is in a relationship with a model - even though it's a rather turbulent one. But the F1 gossip mill is always running rampant with rumours about your relationship with Max - especially with the overfamiliar touches you're both now leaving with lingering hands on each other.

The interviewers flock at the chance to interview the F1 and F2 champions together, who provide them with entertaining answers fueled by the 3rd G&T that Max has already started drinking from his Redbull bottle. You smirk and raise your own bottle to cheers against his, making Max’s icy blue eyes twinkle with amusement as he realises you’re very much on the same wavelength of starting celebrations early. Great minds think alike, right Maxie? you wink conspiratorially, making him laugh. The media reps are basically forgotten as the pair of you end up in your own conversation of excited yapping about adrenaline fueled moments from your races, littered with inside jokes lost to the viewers.

When his PR manager calls Max's name, trying to prevent anymore dubious scandals, the blonde looks apologetically towards you, promising that the two of you would have to celebrate properly tonight, okay? You nod eagerly as you watch him go for the rest of his media duties, your smile so wide that your cheeks almost hurt. You’re still buzzing with adrenaline of your own win, and know that your own manager won’t be happy with the pictures of you practically climbing Max to hug him, not an inch of space between you as he pulls you against him. After all, the tabloids love to speculate that there’s something more between the Redbull 3 time - now 4! - world champion and you, the rising talent in F2 with your Redbull Academy seat, and one of the very few women on the grid.

That’s how you and Max had met - on the Redbull practice circuit, the two of you the only ones wanting to practise in horrific conditions of rain and hail. He’d been curious to see another car with the familiar Bull logo out on the track, and then found himself even more curious when the helmet came off to reveal your cutely flushed face and pretty curls that fell down your back. You became fast friends, after you got along your initial awe of 3x WDC Max Verstappen casually giving you driving pointers. He was actually an incredibly humble and loyal friend, and you appreciated how much time he'd spent out of his busy schedule to help you. Meanwhile, Max found your conversation and humour so refreshing compared to other junior drivers who would suck up to him, and you were never afraid to give Max a piece of your mind with your fiery, passionate personality - similar to his. For the first time in months since he'd started dating his demanding girlfriend, who always told Max off for being too loud or making immature jokes, Max found himself genuinely relaxing and speaking freely.

So with all the time on the practise track, and then off the track when you moved to Monaco and began attending the same parties, padel games and hungover brunches with Max, it was no surprise the two of you had become good friends - with a lot of speculation from the public. Many of his fans and friends disliked his current relationship with the pretty model who constantly used Max's name for her own clout with little interest in his passion for racing and e-sim gaming. In comparison, the easy laughs and witty banter seen frequently between you and Max had many conspiring that you'd be a far better match for the F1 champion. Especially in today's Las Vegas interviews, where the growing electric chemistry was palpable to viewers even through the screen.

Of course, you'd never admit to anyone that you secretly agreed with all the gossip columns. You and Max were perfectly suited for each other - but you would never be able to tell him, especially as you didn't have the slightest idea if Max liked you back or even found you attractive since he was so outgoing and touchy with all his close friends. For the past couple of months you'd been secretly pining for him, eyeing his moody girlfriend jealously as she yanked him from celebrations to go home early. You'd starting catching yourself staring up at the gorgeous blonde with heart eyes when he'd patiently explain some new racing tactic to you. No guy could come close to Max in your mind, and you're becoming increasingly sexually frustrated as the object of your desires stayed out of your reach but you aren't hook up with anyone else. So much so that in the week before Las Vegas, you'd started having some very dirty dreams involving a tall, muscular, blonde ending training early and bending you over the hood of his car as he whispered accented Dutch in your ear. Gonna let me fuck you now, baby? You'll take all of my cock, just like I taught you, right?

You knew it was so, so wrong to secretly lust after your friend and teammate like this - especially since he was taken. But tonight, with the thrill of winning your first ever F2 race in frickin' Vegas of all places, at the same time as Max taking his 4th WDC...Well, let's just say you were feeling especially wild tonight. Taking another shot of gin as you got ready in your spacious hotel bathroom, you admire the sight of yourself in the mirror. You're lot more dressed up than usual, out of your racing suit for once . Smokey eyeshadow compliments your wide, doe eyes and long hair you’d blown out in loose curls, all to show off the main view of a tight, sparkly red minidress that pushed up your tits perfectly. You certainly looked the part of a winner out on a hunt for the best way to celebrate tonight, and your best friend agreed as she whistled when walking into the bathroom. Girl, goddamn, that dress looks insanely sexy on you! she gushed, making you shoot her a pleased smile. Trying to catch a certain someone’s attention tonight? she added with a teasing look. Don’t worry, Max won’t be able to keep his eyes off you!

You let out an embarrassed yelp and tell her to shut up, you were not into him like that! Used to your denials, your friend rolls her eyes fondly and tells you you’d been practically moaning his name when you’d been napping earlier, you little slut! She puts you out of your misery when your face goes as red as your dress by adding in that she’d heard his girlfriend wasn’t here tonight to celebrate - apparently, she was pissed he hadn’t flown her out on his private jet and he’d decided to take a break. Winking, she tells you that Max is all yours tonight! You shoo her away but your heart’s nervously skipping a beat with the news. Slipping on your impressive six inch stilettos with glittery straps circling around your legs, you make your way to the after party downstairs.

The bass is thumping, drinks easily flowing and the crowded hotel nightclub buzzing with energy tonight where many of the racing drivers and fans have come to celebrate tonight. You’d meant to go find Max when you got there, but are pulled into excited hugs by lots of your own friends and team members to congratulate you. Soon enough, a few hours have passed and you’re very pleasantly tipsy, giggling and twirling around on the dance floor with your girlfriends and quite a few guys who are running appreciative looks over your pretty figure. But when your wide doe eyes finally meet icy blue across the room, all other men are forgotten and you're making your way over in a heartbeat.

Schatje, Max greets you easily, interrupting the conversations people crowding around him were trying to start. You give him an adoring smile as you wrap your arms around those ridiculously wide shoulders of his when he pulls you into him. The alcohol you’ve both been drinking lowers your boundaries as you giggle into his ears you’ve been looking everywhere for him! He chuckles, telling you that he’d been right here, but you’d been too popular with everyone else tonight. Too busy for me now that you’re a F2 winner? he teases. You playfully push his broad chest, admiring how toned his muscles are under your freshly manicured palm. Maybe, you tease back. I only enjoy the company of drivers who are five time world champions, at least. Seen Lewis anywhere?

Max’s gorgeous blue eyes crinkle in amusement as he tips his head back to laugh, and you're staring up his thick neck, enjoying the sight of his angular jaw and plush lips with a cute freckle you wanted so desperately to kiss. Reminding yourself not to get too carried away until you had some idea how Max felt, you tugged at his biceps to indicate you wanted him to follow you. He easily took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together as you pull him towards the second floor. This was a pretty frequent for you two, breaking off from a crowded party to yap and gossip about some drama or catch up without all eyes on you. Just as you reach the stairs, one of your team’s engineers calls out to you, giving you a tight embrace that lasts a few seconds too long to be a friendly congratulations. You don’t really notice though, too relaxed and happy, and gush your thank you’s to him as he compliments how well you drove today. He’s pretty cute, and you’re starting to get carried away in the conversation until a warm, large palm curls possessively around your curvy hips. A shiver runs up your spine as Max’s deep voice drawls out behind you that he was bored, can you two go upstairs now?

You immediately turn your focus back onto the attractive blonde, assuring him Of course, Maxie! Your arm wraps around his bicep to steady yourself as you two walk upstairs, your high heels clicking against the marble floor. Your abruptly forgotten engineer receives a rather smug smirk from Max. When you’re finally alone in a tiny powder room, small enough that you have to stand close together with the locked door but well lit by an illuminated mirror atop the counter, Max can’t resist a snarky that engineer seemed very into you.

You dismiss Max’s claims, telling him to stop joking around as you leaned into the mirror to repply your lip gloss. No, he was definitely checking you out, Max responds behind you. His already deep accent you’d always had a thing for turns even huskier. Can’t blame him though…you look fucking incredible tonight.

Desire curls in your gut as you gasp at his unexpected compliment, your doe eyes glancing to see Max’s blue gaze through the mirror. The Dutchman’s gaze is sharp despite the tipsy flush on his cheeks as it wanders up your lush thighs, accentuated by your stilettos, over your juicy ass and hips before coming to meet your pretty eyes. There’s no denying the hungry expression he wears, especially as you slowly finish applying your lip gloss, drawing his attention to your tempting pink lips. He looks like a lion starving to sink his fangs into his next meal.

You swallow, suddenly feeling a little shy as you avoid his gaze, even though you'd dolled up tonight just for him. You should be saying something like that to your girlfriend, you say suddenly. Where is she, anyways? Max rolls his eyes at the reminder, unamused with the change of topic. Fuck knows, he says exasperatedly. I don’t care anymore, we’re taking a break. You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow as you coyly ask Just a break? What, she’s trying to find a billionaire because a F1 millionaire just isn’t cutting it?

Max chuckles at your not so subtle dig, knowing how you felt about his rather superficial girlfriend. But instead of letting it go, tonight you decide to continue and ask him why he was still with her? He shrugs, telling you it was just easier at this point to stay with her instead of the drama of a messy breakup, and dating hot but 2D models was what everyone expected of F1 drivers anyway.

You narrow your eyes, a little annoyed now, and step closer to Max to announce that’s stupid, since when did he do what others expect of him instead of what he wanted? Besides, he deserved a girlfriend who actually cared for him as a person, who celebrated each of his wins and losses, and on a night like tonight - well, he should be getting whatever he wanted from her, you added playfully. You’ve ended up so close that Max can feel the warmth of your soft tits pressed up against his chest, the heels you’re wearing helping your height. He can't resist admiring at the way your cleavage bounces every time you passionately speak.

Whatever I want, huh? Max murmurs lowly, his blue eyes dark with desire as he suddenly leans down, making your eyes widen and thick lashes flutter. His thumb softly brushes across your cheeks to press against your lower lip, parting your mouth slightly. He’s silent for a moment, choosing his next words carefully, and then - What if all I want is you?

You gasp, both with excitement and shock at the realisation that Max returned your feelings. A coy smile appears on your lips as you press your hands to his firm chest, leaning up to whisper into his ear that he was lucky, then, because you'd been looking for a way to congratulate him properly.

He grins wickedly as you return his hungry look, your normally sparkling eyes now sultry with desire. Oh yeah? he says lowly, large palms skimming your waist. And what were you thinking would be the proper way to say congratulations?

There’s no going back to friendship after this, the blurred line well and truly vanishing. Thank god, because you couldn’t take the sexual frustration any longer. You’d heard that the sex after winning in Vegas is really good…and since he’d ended up winning the championship, he deserved to fuck you long and hard, right?

Max’s breath hitches at your offer, his already semi erect cock hardening. Fuck, schatje, he breathes, his lips so close to yours they’re almost touching. That mouth of yours…I didn’t know it could be so dirty. Makes me want to ruin it. You smile with faux innocence, batting your lashes up at him. Why don’t you, Max? Ruin me, then.

That’s all it takes for his lips to lock into yours, a gentle first kiss between friends quickly turning into a sloppy, heated make out that has you drooling against him. Been wanting to do this forever, Max groans in between deep kisses. You giggle, asking him what his girlfriend would think of that. Who? Max says, looking genuinely confused as he leans in again to slide his tongue in to explore your mouth. Oh, the ex? You laugh into the kiss, knowing any other woman would be out of the picture by the time you’ve shown Max just how he deserved to be treated tonight.

Suddenly you’re being lifted up easily to sit on the marble counter, squealing at his impressive strength. He greedily presses against you, your lush thighs parting easily around his narrow waist. It’s a good thing the club’s bass is so loud, otherwise any passerbys would hear the wet, sensual moans of you passionately making out. Max’s bear paws of hands squeeze your thighs and plump ass firmly, making your minidress ride up so he could feel your dampening panties as you start grinding against his impressive bulge through his jeans. Fuck, schatje, you’re already this wet? Max breathes, blue eyes blown with desire when he pulls back for a second as you both pant. Only for you, Maxie you say adoringly, running manicured hands along his broad shoulders and into his soft, blonde locks. Whatever you want tonight, remember? So tell me, what would the world champion like next?

Max inhales sharply at your obedient words, at how you’re looking up at his darkened blue eyes with so much devotion. It fills him with an inexplicable need to have you all to himself, not just tonight but every night from now. You decide to give him a gentle nudge, guiding his large palms to cup your full breasts through your dress. You keep looking at my chest, Maxie. Do you want to see what’s underneath my dress? Max’s jaw drops open as you help his fingers tug down your neckline, letting it fall to your waist and leaving you half dressed in a lacy navy blue bra.

My favourite colour, Max says absentmindedly, too distracted with the heavenly vision in front of him. When you giggle and tell him you know, that’s why you wore it! he groans lowly, yanking the lace down so your full breasts lay exposed to his hungry gaze. So fucking pretty, he breathes, you look so good in my colours, schatje.

You can’t respond because you’re moaning again from his thick fingers squeezing your bouncing tits, circling your sensitive, hard nipples before latching his mouth over your areolas. Oh, Maxie! Mmm, feels so good! He hums with your tits inside his talented mouth, enjoying your sweet moans in his ears as he leaves a trail of hickeys over your chest and neck. You’re getting wetter by the second, and judging from the large, hard bulge you’re desperately humping, you’re certain Max is just as turned on as you are. But tonight’s about congratulating him, and you can’t get too distracted, tugging at the white t-shirt he’s wearing. Your turn!

Max smirks, and yanks his shirt off in half a second. Now you’re temporarily short circuiting at his broad pecs, ogling his thick upper arms and shoulders that taper down to his slim hips. You can’t resist tracing a path down his defined abs with your manicured fingers, making Max tease you with like what you see, schatje?

You shut him up as your hand comes to rest just above his belt buckle, brushing his blonde happy trail but going no further. Hmm, I’ve seen better, you tease back coyly. His jaw hardens as you come tantalisingly close to where he really wants to feel you. When he wraps his hand around yours to stop your games, you surprise him again when you bring your joined hands up to your lips. Curiosity piqued, he watched you intently as you press the pad of his pointer finger onto your swollen lips like he’d done earlier…and then part your lips to slide him inside till the knuckle. Oh, fucking hell, Max hisses lowly.

You don’t miss a beat, staring right into his eyes sultrily as you swirl your tongue around his thick finger, letting him imagine what else your drooling, wet mouth could do. He swallows when you release him with a pop, only to oh so innocently bat your lashes at him to say did he have anything bigger for you to lick?

Max has a hand tangled in your curls instantly, pushing your all too willing body down onto your knees as he swears, saying if he’d known you were going to be such a good girl for him he’d have fucked you months ago. You whine desperately, making him completely entranced as you press soft kisses to his clothed erection. He unbuckles himself for you, the small room silent except for the clinking of metal making both of you impatient. You gasp when his generously sized cock emerges from his Calvin Klein boxers, his pink tip resting right in front of you. He almost cums right there when you look up at him with those wide doe eyes, the very picture of innocence but your filthy words anything but. It-it’s so big, Maxie. Even larger than what I’d dreamed about.

And then you’re messily kissing up and down his engorged shaft, smearing your lipgloss all over as you pant and drool over his length. Oh my fucking god, Max groans, head slamming into the door behind him. That mouth of yours, baby- Jesus fucking Christ.

He’s rendereded speechless when you begin suckling on his hypersensitive tip, circling it with full concentration just like you’d done with his finger. You don’t break eye contact, pulling back slightly to pump his base with two hands and blow air over his angry, swollen cockhead. Tastes so good, Maxie. ‘M gonna worship your cock tonight, just like my world champion deserves. Your throat goes completely lax as you take his impressive length all the way to the base, gurgling and drooling messily as you hollow your cheeks to suck firmly.

Fuck! Jesus, schat, baby, I’m gonna - Max is panting heavily, cheeks adorably red and flushed as he tangles his large palms into your curls. Go-gonna fuck that insane mouth of yours now, okay?

You hum in agreement, sending vibrations running down his shaft. He doesn’t waste any time then, dragging your face forward and roughly thrusting himself into your wet, slack mouth. Loud, obscene sounds of the dirty blowjob you’re performing for him are filling the air, and there’s no doubt anyone listening in the hallway would be able to tell exactly what going on behind the door. But the both of you couldn’t care less, too far gone. And if your mindblowing deepthroat hadn’t been enough, you’re whimpering in between thrusts that he’s so big, you bet he could fuck your tits at the same time as your mouth-

He doesn’t even need to process that sexy mental image because you’re now using your free hands to cup your bouncing breasts and wrap them snugly around the base of his cock, his leaking tip still thrusting in and out of your mouth. Like this, see Maxie?

Max roars in approval at the filthy display, the warmth of your soft tits sending him over the edge. Gonna cum now, he pants breathlessly. Open your mouth for me, baby, you’ll swallow it all, right?

You follow his command immediately, desperately saying please, please Maxie, wanna taste you so bad, you can cum wherever you want-

He slaps his heavy cockhead against your chubby cheeks first, and then onto your pink tongue as you poke it out, collecting drops of precum from his angry red tip. He’s meanly chuckling as you go cross eyed from his cock whacking your face, squealing with excitement. Guess the only thing that shuts you up is my cock in your mouth.

You nod eagerly, panting with your lips wide open expectantly as you stare up at him, your pretty makeup completely destroyed from the messy blowjob. The sight of you so desperate for him is what tips him over, and with a silent moan he jerks himself off to flood your mouth with a generous, creamy load. So much that you struggle to swallow it, some of it leaking out the corners of your lips to drip onto your heaving tits. But you take most of it just like you promised him, licking your lips rather sluttily before opening your mouth to show him. See, Maxie? Drank it all for you.

He yanks you up off the floor, pressing your soft jiggling chest up against his hard pecs as he rewards you with a deep kiss. Did fucking amazing, sweetheart, he sighs into you. That was definitely the best head I’ve ever gotten. You flush from his compliment, sultry eyes turning shy now from his praise. But the Dutch Lion’s appetite isn’t satiated tonight. He pulls your dress back up, wiping away your smeared gloss and smudged mascara before redressing himself. But we aren’t finished just yet, schatje, he croons as he gently untangles your curls from your dangly earrings. You bite your lip, hanging onto his each word as he says After all, you’d won in Vegas too. He’ll have to show you how good the sex is, now.

Desire darkens your bright, dazed eyes at the thought of Max finally fucking you. You bury your face in his thick neck, wrapping your arms around him as you plead for him to please take you upstairs, you needed him so bad, you couldn’t take it anymore.

He chuckles at your cute begging, discreetly leading you down the hallway that’s thankfully empty while keeping you firmly pressed to his chest. As much as he’d wiped away the streaks of mascara, any of your friends would only have to take one look to know what you’d been upto. The ride up the discreet service elevator is another test of self restraint, the camera in the corner stopping the both of you from outright debauchery. But you can’t stop weakly grinding against Max’s muscular thigh that separates your plush legs, clinging onto him as he whispers dirty things in your ear with that Dutch voice you loved. Tell me what kind of naughty dreams you’ve been having about me, he demands. And of course, you oblige, turning his ears pink and voice huskier when he finds out just what you’d been secretly pining for.

He lifts you up, your legs straddling his waist easily when you finally reach your floor, an carried you down the hallway. After you’re clumsily swiping your room card with Max’s very distracting lips leaving kisses to your throat, you find yourself inside your dark hotel room at last. The Vegas city lights stream in from the floor to ceiling windows, illuminating Max’s handsome form as he looks down to drink in the pretty sight of you. Fucking finally, Max groans, ripping his shirt and pants off in one go and kicking his shoes to the side. He wraps an arm around your waist to pick you up again and gently toss you onto the king sized bed, making you giggle excitedly as you land with a bounce. And then he’s on top of you, eyes dark and a cocky smirk on his face as he presses his warm length against your soaked panties. See what you’ve done to me, schatje? I’m already hard again. Completely ruined me for anyone else with this perfect body. He finishes his sentence with a slow roll of his hips, making you moan breathily at the contact, with your panties so wet they’re practically stuck to you and you can feel all of him.

He unzips you out of your dress, leaving heated kisses all over your body as he admires the sight of your navy lingerie set, telling you he’d buy you ten more so you could wear them for him after every race when he fucked you. You keen at his attention, at the thought that Max wants you again and again, eyes teary as you start to try and grind your hips against him. You’ll have to be patient, schatje Max says in an amused tone, sounding much more in control than the moaning, dripping mess he’s turned you into. You teased me so much after all, it’s only fair that it’s my turn now, right? He kisses your ankles softly as he unties your strappy heels, letting them fall to the floor. And then, with a strong hand on each of your delicate ankles, he hungrily takes in the sight of your dripping pussy. Your tummy flutters almost nervously in anticipation of what’s coming.

Turns out Max, just like you, always held true to his promises. You’d had to be very patient as he had his turn of teasing you mercilessly, making you cum all over his thick fingers that stretched you out and skilled tongue that found your sensitive clit almost immediately. And when he’s finally ripping the condom packet open and slapping your core with his heavy cock, you’re practically crying.Your aching pussy finally gets what she needs when you’re stuffed impossibly full as he slides in to the hilt.

The sight of you completely ruined underneath him, tits bouncing with each powerful thrust he delivers, your nails burying into his strong arms to steady yourself, unlocks a carnal desire in Max. Whatever I want, right schatje? He hums, bending down so your sweaty foreheads touch, and you nod quickly through your deep pants. Even if I wanted to fuck you raw? You’ll let me cum inside your tight little pussy, hmm?

He knows he has you right where he wants as you squeeze down on him instinctively when you imagine him inside you with no protection. Ohmygod Maxie, yes, please, fuck your cum into me, please! The Dutchman’s outright filthy request has your head spinning with desire and you’re babbling half incoherently. Pulling out momentarily and making you whine, he yanks the condom off before sinking back into your creamy hole. You both moan in pure ecstasy at the euphoric feeling of skin to skin sex.

Max fucks you in multiple positions that night, passionately into the soft mattress, meanly up against the cold window, and roughly on the plush sofa chaise with your face buried in the cushions and your red asscheeks up in the air for him to slap. Next time I win you’ll let me fuck you here, too, okay baby? he demands as he fingers your winking back hole while still thrusting into your dripping cunny. You can only let out a high pitched whine, jiggling your hips back onto his cock in approval, too fucked out to respond with words at this point. And when he finally cums, his impressive stamina outlasting yours on his second orgasm, he makes sure to sink in deep and flood your heavenly walls with his thick white release. You give him an open mouthed lazy kiss as a silent thank you for the best fuck of your entire life, hoping he got the message.

You’re pretty certain he did, because the next morning you’re awoken by a heavy length pressed up against your ass. You’d both passed out in the (thankfully clean) spare second bed after running through the shower together for five minutes to clean up the sticky mess last night. The 4th championship celebration sex was definitely record breaking , Max murmurs into your ear playfully. But it’s not complete without the slow morning after sex. You’ll let me show you now, right schat?

_____________________________________________

A/N: WAR IS OVER THE CHILDREN ARE OUT, BIRDS SINGING CAUSE MAX IS RIGHTFULLY 4 X WDC 😭😭😭 the way all the haters were silenced. Everyone’s trying ride his dick now including skysports I love to see it, as they should

Also guys 10 followers away from 2k?!? Wtaf 😳 I’m so sorry for the delayed post, thank you for being so patient. Work has been really busy this month but going on Xmas break in a couple weeks so will have more time to post!!!! Keep sending me ur saucy asks yall I love reading them <3

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 driver reader #max verstappen x oc #18+ mdni #formula 1 #smut #mv1

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pearlywritings · 2 days ago

Text

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 3

pairings: Childe, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Wriothesley x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship (married/engaged/mated), secret relationship, immortal reader in Neuvi's part

word count: 6.1k+ words

a/n: part 1 and part 2 can be read here!

Childe

Spurred by the whistles and a whip of a coachman three fine white horses are trotting along the snow-covered road, dragging a big sleigh. Made of the sturdiest wood and painted in red and gold, the construction is effortlessly sliding on ice crust, almost lulling you under all those warm blankets and furs Ajax has thrown over your half-sitting half-lying bodies. You are glad to have this instead of jolting in a carriage (not like it’ll even be able to ride through all this snow), sure to have an aching arse even under the thick sheepskin coat, and instead of whatever machinery your lover could’ve gotten his hands onto due to his position - otherwise it wouldn’t have been so romantic.

Resting your head onto his shoulder you sigh blissfully, puffing out a small cloud of warm air. The fluffy-looking firs, tall pines and naked larches are flashing past in a magical gleam of snow-covered branches; you think you see two grayish squirrels chasing one another on a tree on your left.

“Oh, little minxes. A couple of seconds later and that snow could’ve ended up on our heads.”

You giggle at the young man’s comment, taking your gloved hand out of the sable muff and reaching to adjust the hat with earflaps (which he once again refused to tie under his chin) on his head. Before you can retrieve, a bigger hand clad in mitten wraps around yours and brings it to the chapped pale lips. As if spellbound you watch him press a tender kiss just where your ring finger joins the palm - right where the engagement ring is hidden under the thick material.

Now it’s hard to tell if your cheeks are rosy from cold or the swirling emotions.

“A little bit more and we will be in Morepesok,” he says softly, deep pools of his blue eyes staring back at you adoringly. “I can’t wait to share the news with ma, pa, sisters and brothers…”

You know he’s written them a letter right after you said ‘yes” to him, too excited to wait. So excited in fact, that he couldn’t sit still in expectation for the response, so he solicited an impromptu week-long vacation with the help of Pulcinella, and here you are, on your merry way to his home village.

“I can’t wait for that too,” you smile, leaning up to peck his nose, eliciting the same smile from him. “But I worry a little - will they be happy for us? I mean, that it’s me who you are going to marry?”

“Absolutely!” He nods enthusiastically and you have to readjust his hat again. “They all love you very much, I promise you. And if I am being completely honest, mom and Tonia did keep asking me when I intended to make you my wife during the last couple of times we visited.”

“Wait, really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was already planning a proposal at the time - didn’t want to spoil it by accidentally letting my tongue loose.”

It’s hard to believe that this man is one of the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers. Childe is surprisingly good at separating his work and off work behavior, turning into a completely normal, maybe just a tiny bit unhinged, young man as soon as his family is involved. You know he’s built this facade to keep them and you away from harm, but you also know it comes from the heart as well.

“Then I can only hope we can bring the female members of your family to the capital soon - I want them to participate in the wedding dress shopping.”

You are immediately gathered into a tight embrace and your laughter is smothered by the fur on his collar. Yes, he is the Eleventh Harbinger, Tartaglia, Tsaritas’s soldier, Childe… But in moments like this he is just Ajax. Your Ajax.

His parents’ house meets you both with the quiet creak of the gates, the barking of two big fluffy malamutes outside, the clink of the horseshoe against the wood on top of the front door, the warmth of a well-heated inside and a bit taller than the last time you saw him Teucer, who runs full speed at his big brother, practically tackling him.

“Big brother is home, big brother is home!”

Ajax joyously laughs, somehow managing to take off his coat and dropping it to the colorful carpet at the front door before hoisting the exclaiming boy into his arms. Kicking off your felt boots to step from the anteroom, you watch with a smile as he squeals when your lover presses his cold cheek to the warm smaller one, squirming in the strong arms.

Not a minute later more of his siblings appear, closely followed by their mom - freckled, with her ginger with gray hair tied in a thick braid and an apron thrown over her green dress, the woman smiles brightly and, letting her children surround their brother, walks to you with arms spread, ready to embrace you.

“Mother, my clothes might be cold,” you try to warn her, but she doesn’t listen, hugging you anyway.

“As if it can affect me! Oh, I’m so happy to see you, my dear. How was your trip? Are you tired, hungry? I’m almost done with lunch, and in the meantime I can ask my husband to throw in the firewood and heat the bathhouse for you two.

“It’s very kind of you,” you smile, wrapping your arms to give her a hug in return. “But I think we’ll wash up in the evening - I really doubt Ajax’s sibling will let him go in the following couple of hours.”

Before she can say anything, a tall, wide man appears from the other room. His beard and hair are gingerly brown with gray too, thick brows naturally furrowed. By the rosy cheeks, the remnants of snowflakes melting on his hair and the choice of clothing you guess he’s just returned to the house through the back door - probably after chopping wood.

Upon lowering his gaze to you, his facial features smooth out.

“If it isn’t my son and a dear soon-to-be daughter-in-law!” His gruff voice booms across the house, immediately redirecting everyone’s attention to you and making you blush. “I knew Ajax was too impatient and would rather come to visit and bring his fiance along than wait for a response letter.”

As he moves to greet you properly and help with discarding the outer clothes, you notice your gingerhead whispering something to his siblings, to which they giggle and throw glances at you. Catching the gaze of your lover, you lift an eyebrow, as if asking ‘should I be concerned?”. But he only shakes his head with a smile and ushers everyone to the dining room.

However, the curiosity is getting better of you, as throughout the evening you keep catching the glances, watch Tonia whispering something to her mom, and the woman giving Ajax a ‘really?’ kind of look, but with a fond smile, and then his dad slapping his back with a boisterous laugh, saying something along the lines ‘I was the same way with your mom too’.

So you confront him once you are left alone in the room.

“Hey, foxy, what’s going on?”

“Hm?” He lowers the blanket that he’s just tucked inside the duvet cover and reaches for the sheets. “What do you mean, bunny?”

“Whatever you’ve been doing,” you put one of the pillows down and reach out for the other as well as the pillowcase.

“And what’s that ‘whatever’ I’ve been doing?” You don’t miss the sly smile finding its way onto his face. You huff.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

The man hums, tucking the edges of the sheet between the mattress and the bed.

“Nothing you should worry about. I just asked them all to practice a little.”

“Practice?’ Cocking your head, you throw both pillows onto the bed. “Wait, did you start planning something for the wedding?”

“Not quite. Rather for after it.”

Confused, but intrigued, you step closer when your lover sits down and beckons you, being dragged into his lap a second later. Blue eyes look at you in an unspoken fascination, as he leans forward to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth, prompting you to loosely wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Since we are getting married, I deduced that it would be only right for my family to call you my wife. Thus I asked them to get acquaintanced with the term, so they could start doing it as soon as we are pronounced husband and wife.”

You blink at him once, twice. After the third time you exhale, shaking your head, but the lift of your lips doesn’t go unnoticed by your fiance.

“I should’ve known you’d pull something like this, I am not even surprised, let alone mad. But they could just keep addressing me by my name. Plus your siblings already call me ‘big sister’ and your parents made me an honor of acknowledging me as the ‘daughter’. It won’t change much.”

“But it will!” He pouts and you can’t resist the urge to pinch his cheek. “You will be my wife and I want everyone to help me show it! Does it bother you though?”

Looking into those uncharacteristically begging eyes, you really can’t deny him his little antics. Not like you were going to in the first place.

“No, no, I don’t mind, love. Honestly, it's very sweet how excited you are. Makes me look forward to it.”

“Yeah?” Look at him, smiling like a satisfied cat, who's had too much sour cream for its own good. His embrace tightens on you a little.

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes as Ajax enjoys the many kisses you pepper to his face, squeezing his eyes shut, grinning, boyishly eager for more.

“Do you think I should ask the whole village to do the same?”

“Ajax, no.”

Nuevillette

“Mother, do you mind helping me a little? I can’t reach over there…

“I’d be delighted, my dear.”

Neuvillette watches with a fond look as you put the tea cup down and stand up to walk closer to Verenata and assist her with whatever the potion maker needs. Your figure is ethereal, clad in the finest fabrics, flowing with every step and gently dropping as you crouch gracefully to hoist the melusine in your arms. From above the rim of his silver goblet the Hydro Dragon can't tear his eyes from the way one of your many “daughters” wraps an arm around your neck and reaches up, while the corner of your lips, which he can see from his position at the table, is turned upwards.

“Mother is so kind and patient,” Laume says just a step away from Neuvillette’s chair. When the man turns his head to look at her, there is Flo standing too.

“Yes, and she is so beautiful,” the other melusine sighs, clasping her hands together. “And she always brings us such nice and comfortable clothes…”

“Monsieur Neuvillette married a wonderful woman,” a couple more melusines nearby agree and there is a warm and fuzzy feeling takes place in the Judex’s chest.

Marriage… Such a beautiful concept humans came up with to validate the union of two. It begins with the wedding - a day full of happy tears and blissful smiles, shared vows to be together in sickness and in health, sweet claims of love and promises of joyful life ahead. Then this very life begins and for beings like you and your husband it’s a long, but welcome trip.

You’ve been claimed by each other for quite some time before the more ‘mortal appropriate’ ritual, and the melusines - the wonderful creatures Neuvillette once took under his wing - were aware and happy for your relationship. And it was actually their idea to hold a wedding too, once Sigewinne naturally asked how the two of you planned to introduce your bond in civil words to humans.

And it was their initiative to start calling you “mother”. With your actions you quickly became one for them anyway, and the girls actively sought your company when it was possible. Thus, such tea parties at the Merusea Village as today are a common occurrence (besides, you always welcome them because it's a great opportunity to dig your husband out of the pile of responsibilities he tends to bury himself under).

However, lately Neuvillette started noticing that when he heard the word leave the girls’ mouths, a strange feeling began rising in his chest. Even though not quite familiar with the concept of jealousy, the Judex was sure it was not the case - he loved when the melusines called you that. So, he could not really put his finger on why the action caused such an indescribable reaction.

He decided to observe. On his walks throughout the city, the man seeked the sights of parents with children to attentively listen and watch while leisurely passing by or stopping at the shopping booths to linger on the scene. He was quick to note that the interactions were hardly different from the ones between you and the girls - kids would call for their mothers in all the same tones: when happy, when asking for help, when seeking comfort and many other typical occurrences he’d seen a handful of times before.

What really caught Neuvillette’s eye was the way the parents behaved. And soon his focus shifted to the married couples instead. As reserved as the nobles seemed to appear, the ones in love still managed to slip a murmured ‘my dear’, or ‘beloved’ or ‘my sweet [Name]’ in their speech. All the things the Hydro Dragon was all too used to call you too, relishing in the image of your loving smile and joyfully crinkling eyes as you responded in kind.

But it is like a waterfall pours on him when a week later, after that tea party where he once again sunk deep in thought, a keen pointy ear makes out a simple word in the crowd.

"Wife"

Male’s heart flutters. The understanding quickly dawns on him, even more so when his eyes find the couple on the other side of the road, - it was no simple term to introduce the partner to the third party. No, the tenderly spoken word was used by that man to address his lover, to softly draw her attention to him, to remind her he is happy she is holding such a position in his life…

At least that’s what kind of puzzle pieces together in Neuvillette’s head. The couple is long gone, yet he is still standing there, hand resting on the handle of his cane and eyes staring into space.

He starts to remember all the sweet names he called you, each and every one stored in his memory with the heart-warming images of your reactions. There are all kinds of those: my love, my pearl, lizzy (affectionate from ‘lizard’; you used to tell him that dragons are just big lizards and it kinda stuck), kisses-stealer, fairy-tail nymph… The man is surprisingly creative with his words when it comes to you.

Sure, he calls you his mate, quite often too, but to his chagrin it has never occurred to him that he could call you ‘his wife’ too! It’s so simple, so absurdly logical, yet it took him weeks to figure out.

Humans are truly fascinating.

When Neuvillette returns to his office in the Palais Mermonia you are already there, lazing on a sofa with a bunch of papers, in which your husband guesses the script of probably another upcoming play of Furina. And judging by the more than a half pages turned you’ve been waiting for him for a while.

When the door closes and the cane disappears in the myriad of sparkling bubbles, you lift your gaze, and a smile immediately lights up your lovely features.

”Neuvi,” You speak softly, getting on your feet and leaving the script behind, “I hoped we’d depart on the afternoon stroll together. So imagine my disappointment when Sedene told me you had left just ten minutes ago! Oh, I knew I’d be late if Lady Furina had kept me for another minute, yet I still hoped I’d be on time…”

As you are approaching him, the Judex remembers the melusine’s words upon arrival: “Mother waits inside”. This makes all his previous thoughts resurface, and when he meets you half-way and reaches for both your hands to place a kiss to the back of each, Neuvillette has half a mind to try out his new discovery.

“Our Archon enjoys your company a lot, and, knowing you, you are not really mad,” you roll your eyes playfully, tiptoeing to peck the tip of his nose, murmuring a quiet ‘hush, let me be a tiny bit indignant’. “And I’d be honored to keep you company for the evening stroll,” and then, after a little pause of hesitation, he adds, “wife.”

He watches as the previously present smile on your face grows even bigger, but after a couple of seconds starts to fade slowly, eyes squinting a little bit to stare at him in hardly-concealed curiosity.

“What was that?”

“What was what, dear wife?”

“This!” As if to emphasize your words you point your finger to his mouth, and it’s Neuvillette’s lips’ turn to curl in a small smile.

“It’s something I hoped to discuss with you,” his gloved fingertips soothingly brush over your knuckles and soon your hand is clasped into his, as the man leads you both back to the sofa. “You see,” he starts when you sit down, “I am fascinated with the notion hidden behind the word ‘mother’ the melusines like to call you. That’s who you are for them both in reality and in terms. I’ve made some observations, and figured that sometimes humans in marriage also use the…familial terms to address one another. It seemed lovely to me and I wanted to try it out with you. What do you think?”

You hum in thought, replaying in your head the way Neuvillette spoke to you twice. It is hard to explain, but you somehow immediately see the appeal and understand why your lover got hooked on it. Seems lovely indeed. You wonder, what if you…

“Will you tell me more about those observations on our evening stroll, husband? Ooh, it does sound wonderful!”

Mark him stunned, but for a moment Judex grows speechless. The violet depths of his eyes swirl with adoration as you clap your hands gleefully, and he knows, that from now on your everyday routine will never be the same

“With pleasure, wife.”

Pantalone

Dancing snowflakes are slowly descending in their tender waltz and are gleaming like the tiniest of gems in the streetlights’, enveloping the already magical winter capital of the Cryo region in a solemn atmosphere. The white cover of the ground is crunching with every step of a passerby and every wheel rotation of the fancy-looking carriages, while the street is a jumble of fur coats and heavy military overcoats, finally breathing life into the afternoon-quiet city.

It’s a wonderful evening, too marvelous to spend it at home, too enchanting to miss the new ballet at the Bolshoy Theater, the true accumulation of the Tsaritsa’ nation’s nobility and intelligentsia. The wonder of Snezhnayan architecture is both the place to rest and enjoy the purest form of art and home to many gossip circulating in society. Some fresh and just hours old, some ancient and undying, like the topic of the Ninth Harbinger’s lovers.

Lord Pantalone is well-known and often-praised for his contribution to the Snezhnaya’s economy, along with extending the Fatui influence all across the Teyvat. But also he is quite famous for the women he appears in public with. It’s always someone new, it’s never the same one as before. Different shapes, different hair, different style - it is impossible to guess the raven-haired man’s tastes. However everybody knew - the Harbinger never entertained the company of the ladies who made attempts to catch his attention. Those ladies themselves say as much.

The Regrator’s companions never open their mouths, never utter a word - at least not when there are people around. There has never been a single name, never a remembered face - all women wear the mask covering the upper half of it, concealing the identity of yet another lucky choice of the rich man.

Never the same woman - always the same mask.

This evening does not disappoint the gathered crowd - lifting their gazes, directing attention to the Harbinger’s personal box, they once again see the notorious mask. The long fringe of wine-red hair is coquettishly framing the ever-lasting piece of leather, similarly flaming lips are tugged in a haughty smile - as if the young lady doesn’t realize that once the night is over, she’s going to be discarded like many others before her. The dress according to the latest fashion trends and the beautiful garnet necklace do not surprise the audience anymore - even known for his love for replacements, Lord Pantalone dresses his partners royally.

The man himself has chosen yet another black costume, with a dark burgundy shirt hidden underneath and bird-shaped garnet brooch on the left side of his chest. Multiple beautiful rings catch the light when he lifts his gloved hand to adjust diamond-shaped glasses, before turning his head and addressing something to his tonight’s escort. She boisterously laughs, saying something in response, but even if attendants tried to strain their ears, they wouldn’t hear anything so far away. Even harder it gets when the third ring of the bell echoes across the theater chamber and both the Harbinger and the woman are forgotten, until the performance is over.

So no one sees when the ring-decorated hand reaches for a smaller female one, fingers sliding under the chintz-covered palm, thumb immediately reaching to tug on the hem of the glove, so the thin cool lips could press against the small patch of bared skin. A glimpse of a smile is what Pantalone gets when you glance at him with amusement playing on your lips.

Always the same mask, never the same woman, huh?

Pride has long slithered into your heart, yet it still lifts its snake-like head every time your act of decisiveness succeeds, happily hissing. Every time it’s a test of your skills, a gamble with the eyes of ones around you, and every time you hit the jackpot, leaving the people guessing, staying the only one in possession of the banker despite the speculations.

As long as Her Majesty Tsaritsa is aware of your existence and the place you occupy next to Pantalone, you are free to do anything you want with his reputation relationship-wise. And he allows it, because should you desire the whole world - he’ll throw it to your feet like the cheapest trinket. One would say it’s because he is prideful too - he knows it’s because he loves his wife.

Loves to the point of entertaining the masquerades she stages whenever the two of you need to appear in public. It plays wonderfully into his possessive nature and desire to keep his precious beautiful wife to himself and helps with the enemies - “changing the ladies” minimizes the chances of putting at risk his one and only. Not like many know of you in the first place.

It’s a win-win arrangement for you as well - there is still an opportunity to cling to his arm, to use his expensive cologne, to play with the rings on his fingers and sneakily make out in a dark corner where no one can see. To be tugged into his lap in the carriage on the way back to his mansion, to have his long fingers undo the strings of the mask, and once the piece of leather falls onto the floor, have the palms slide down the sides of your neck, swiftly fiddling with the heavy necklace, only to let it be, the caress the shoulders, pushing the sleeves down…

…to leave them at the elbows and grab your arms to push your back into his chest as the warm lips press to the juncture between the neck and the shoulder.

And what if you’ve lost your name in the process of this disguising? Having been an actress a long time ago made you used to it. But isn’t it fun to come up with the new ideas for your next performance? Your husband gifts you way too many dresses and jewelry sets - you must find use to all of them! He now has to simply spend a bit more on the wigs and makeup to fit each combination of fabric and gems.

“Did my wife have a pleasant evening?” The velvet voice of the man behind you caresses the ear and you meet his gaze in the full-size mirror in front of you. Amethyst eyes sparkle in the bedroom light and you smile coquettishly, red lips stretching seductively.

“Did she? How could I know?” You tease, reaching to your back to undo the corset, just to be stopped by his hands, fingers digging into the dozens of strings. “And don’t you know, Mr Harbinger, that it’s very offending for the woman, when the man speaks about another lady in her presence?”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware,” he muses, tugging a bit harsher on the ties and making you gasp, “that my dear wife can be jealous of herself.”

“When you know her poorly. Tsk-tsk, what a bad husband you are.”

Pantalone laughs behind you, shaking his head at your untrue words, and you reach to your head to remove the fiery wig. By the time Pantalone is done with your corset, you are done letting your naturally beautiful locks down, sighing in relief from both the released ribcage and hair roots.

The dress, having lost its vital support on your body, falls to the ground next to the wig and quickly becomes forgotten as you two step away from the mirror.

Your husband is still mostly clothed, having only eased out of his coat and unbuttoned the jacket, so you busy your hands with tugging the black article off and then reaching for the gleaming tiny buttons on the shirt. Your figures bask in the warm light of the room as you continue undressing the man - your eyes concentrated on the expensive fabrics, his - on the lovely expression of your face.

“But if you must know,” Pantalone raises his brow, when you look up at him, a much sincere and tender smile lighting up your visage, “your wife loved the evening very much.”

And that’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear. Fingers tangle in your hair, you harshly inhale, and his lips are on yours. Lipstick is smudging, your fingers accidentally catch the silver chain, and his glasses get slightly askew, but it doesn’t matter. His wife loved another thing he’s done for her. The banker’s day has ended in a great profit.

Wriothesley

Fortress of Meropide is a huge metal labyrinth of floors and corridors, where noise is never-ending even in the late hours of the night. The metal box which is the Duke’s office however, is constructed to mute the annoying sounds or else the one inside would have a very hard time concentrating.

Usually, even the ruckus happening outside and the clanking of the heavy machines underneath can’t sway Wriothesley’s attention if he has his mind set on doing the paperwork, even something as boring as bills. Today, however, the man has caught himself multiple times glancing at the clock he’s hung up a couple of years ago - there is no way to tell the time all the way down underwater, true, but it serves him a greater purpose. It helps him count hours and minutes before you arrive.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are the days when you take a half of the day off to come down to the Fortress to meet up with your husband. You both quickly realized that traveling back and forth together in either of the directions (fortress or home in the city) would be way too inconvenient. So, you improvise by visiting him throughout the week a couple of times and then he comes home to properly spend the weekend, having learnt to delegate his responsibilities to the most trustworthy guards. So far you’ve been extremely pleased with the arrangement, and the Fortress’s crew have learnt your face by heart to not cause you any obstacles in reaching your beloved’s office.

Today, nevertheless, something must’ve gone wrong. Pale blue eyes are practically drilling the minute hand of the previously mentioned clock, watching it moving further and further from the tiny 10-minute bar, which should’ve marked your appearance at the top of his stairs. And he gets it, everything could’ve happened, something as trivial as the queue at the pastry shop that might’ve gotten longer today, but when the delay surpasses the half-hour mark, the warden puts his fountain pen down and follows it by the creak of the chair legs on the metal floor.

As he descends down the stairs - each clunking under the heavy soles of his boots - a fleeting thought of you stopping by at the medical bay first is immediately brushed aside - his office is right on the path of entering the Fortress’s main body, and you love your husband too much to let him sulk in his longing.

When he pushes the colossal doors open, eyes instantly start searching the area ahead of him. However, nothing unusual is spotted - two guards are standing at the front of his abode, not even flinching at the unpleasant scraping noise the metal makes; a couple of inmates are walking past them, bowing their heads right as they see the appearing the figure of their warden - Wriothesley simply nods and sends them off with a flicker of his hand; then there is Monglane’s desk with its irreplaceable owner. And no trace of his beloved wife.

Closing the doors behind him, Wriothesley comes up to the guards, inquiring if they’ve happened to see you. Getting a negative response, he hums and starts walking forward, to the corridor leading to the elevator, not bothering with asking the very same questions to Monglane.

With every passing minute, especially while waiting for the elevator, the man starts realizing how impatient he is growing, if the tapping of his foot and crossed arms are not an indicator enough. Even with just one day apart, he’s missed you so awfully much, your adoring smile, your soft voice and cute little giggles, that he feels rightfully robbed since you are not yet in his embrace, showering his face with kisses and then whining pretentiously because he’s forgotten to shave once again. Sometimes you swear he is not a big bad wolf, but a mean huge hedgehog.

He almost stomps inside the cabin the second its doors slide open and pushes the button to the reddening of his fingertip. It is a long trip up to the next level, and he admits he’s tugged on his leather straps wrapped around his arms a couple of times, but Archons, how little it all matters, when, exiting the elevator, he finally hears such a familiar voice. Your voice.

Your husband’s legs carry him like they obtained a mind of their own, following the full of amusement lilt he knows can belong only to you, just to come to a halt next to the wooden boxes piled up on the side of the path.

He can see you, quite clearly, adorned in a cute pair of pants and a shirt, shoulders covered in a crocheted shawl - always ready for the cool air of the Fortress, yet looking so comfy, that Wriothesley can't help but desire to tackle you to the sofa in his office and cuddle this instant. And he would've done just that, if the conversation you've been having didn't catch his attention.

“No, it's wrong again. It's not Britney, it's Brytnneigh.

“But you are saying the same thing!"

"No, it is not B-r-i-t-n-e-y. It's B-r-y-t-n-n-e-i-g-h."

"Slower, please."

In the second voice the warden easily guesses a new guard that has just been employed a couple of days ago. He remembers signing the papers his weekend substitute brought him on Monday. Wriothesley also remembers how the man swore that he’d passed on to the newbie all the information and training he needed to know. But, it appears, he forgot to mention the most important thing…

“Did you make sure to write my name with two N’s?” Your voice is laced with hardly concealed mirth, and, though he can’t see the face of the guard talking to you, your husband is sure the poor young man looks quite miserable.

“Yes, mademoiselle, I did.”

“Wonderful, but it’s ‘madame’, I am a married woman after all. But no worries, I am flattered you think I look so young,” Wriothesley shakes his head with a silent chuckle. He adores you so much, but maybe it really is time to stop your little play of a new inmate, or else he’ll surely have to call for Sigewinne to check on the poor guard.

“And your last name, madame?”

“I am Brytnneigh Deirdrophnea de Troistêtesloup. Do you want me to spell it for you, dear?”

Yes, he really should stop you.

Before you can open your mouth again, you see in your peripheral vision a figure moving. Upon turning your head slightly, you are graced with the sight of your beloved husband, walking towards you with a quirked thick brow, and crossed arms. All you can do is sheepishly smile, waving at him.

“O-oh! Duke Wriothesley, Sir!” The guard behind the registration desk immediately jumps to his feet, squaring his shoulders and saluting at the arrival of his superior.

“At ease, young man,” Wriothesley nods, stepping even closer, practically invading your personal space, icy blue eyes looking at you unblinkingly. “What is going on here?”

“Nothing much, Mr Warden,” your eyes crinkle in the corners, a sight so infectious, that the man’s lips turn into a small smile. “Just a cute old me, ending up in the Fortress for Archon knows what time.”

“M-madame!” The guard exclaims rather loudly, that even your husband turns to look at him. “Even if it's not your first stay here, you shouldn’t be taking liberties with the Duke!”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Wriothesley raises his hand. “She is no longer your headache-”

“Hey!” You elbow his side to the bewilderment of the guard. In his shock he doesn’t even reach for his weapon.

“-I will personally escort this troublemaker inside. And cross out that abominable name out, would you? It’s not her name.”

“It’s not..?” Now Wriothesley really sympathizes with the guy, he looks utterly lost.

“It’s not. But,” a big scarred hand gently cups you under the chin and turns your head more properly towards the guard, “be sure to remember this adorable face very well for the next time. You’ll need that to let her in and out.”

“...out?”

“Yes, indeed. This woman is my wife.”

As the elevator doors slide close and the cabin starts moving down, you turn to Wriothesley and throw your arms around his wide frame, face burying into his chest.

“Are you proud of me for coming up with such a long and difficult name in a single thought?”

“Oh, for sure,” strong arms circle your waist and chapped lips press to the top of your head, “I bet you would be hard-to-catch if you were a criminal. But why did you decide to play such a prank on a poor man?”

“Well… I just wanted to see his face when he found out that I am the wife of the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide himself. Another reason is that there was no guard who knew my face and I doubt he would’ve believed my word. I just got creative with the way of making him summon someone else. You simply got here before anything could happen. Plus, it’s good to keep them on their toes with a job like that. Besides, I did apologize and praise him for his patience.”

At that Wriothesley just sighs and then chuckles, raising one of his hands and threading his fingers through your hair, pressing your head even closer to his chest. He is not even feeling iffy about the lost half an hour of your time together anymore. Because you gave him an opportunity to introduce you as his wife once again.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #childe x fem!reader #tartaglia x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x fem!reader #pantalone x reader #pantalone x fem!reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x fem!reader #childe #tartaglia #neuvillette #pantalone #wriothesley #genshin impact fluff

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misswynters · 1 day ago

Text

Drunken

featuring. ekko x reader

happy turkey holidays 🦃

note. when reading this imagine the boom sound effect everything ekko says something unhinged. (lol)

Lights from flickering neon signs bathed the streets in hues of green and purple, casting eerie shadows along the broken walls and uneven pathways. Ekko sat perched on a ledge high above the chaos, his feet dangling lazily as if he didn’t care if he slipped and fell. He often came here to think, to escape. Tonight, though, his solitude was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. It was yours.

“Hey,” you greeted, your voice softer than usual but edged with something he couldn’t place. You were wrapped in the jacket he’d given you, its fabric worn but warm against the chill of Zaun’s smog-filled night.

Ekko glanced over his shoulder, his face unreadable in the half-light. “What do you want?” His tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t welcoming either.

You frowned, hesitating for a moment before stepping closer. “I just… I wanted to see you. You’ve been distant lately.”

“Yeah? Maybe I had a reason.” He swung his legs, his sneakers catching the dim light as he stared out at the cityscape.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snapped, your patience fraying at the edges. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s wrong, Ekko. You’ve been shutting me out—”

“Maybe you’re the problem,” he interrupted sharply, turning to face you now. His eyes were hard, a rare thing for someone who usually carried so much warmth. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re always here, always around, like… like you think I owe you something.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You stepped back, your breath hitching. “I’m clingy? That’s what you think of me?”

Ekko groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You confuse me, alright? You’re all over the place, acting like you care but then pulling back. I can’t—I don’t know what you want from me, and I don’t have the time to figure it out.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, you shrugged off the jacket he��d given you and threw it at his back. “Fine. You don’t have to figure it out. Here’s your damn jacket.” Your voice cracked, betraying the pain you tried to hide, and you turned on your heel, storming off without another word.

Ekko called after you, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. His words had cut too deep, and you needed to get away.

The Last Drop was dimly lit, its familiar haze of smoke and alcohol making it feel both comforting and suffocating. You slumped onto a barstool, not caring about the stares you earned as you ordered the strongest drink they had. The bartender raised an eyebrow but obliged, sliding a glass toward you. The liquid burned as it went down, and that was exactly what you wanted.

By the third drink, the room felt like it was spinning, but you didn’t care. You leaned heavily on the counter, muttering to yourself about Ekko’s audacity. “Clingy? Really? I’m just supposed to—” Your drunken rant was cut short by a familiar voice.

“Y/N.” You turned, and there he was, standing near the doorway with your jacket in hand. He looked out of place here, his usual confidence tempered by something softer. Regret, maybe.

“What do you want?” you slurred, glaring at him as he approached.

Ekko didn’t answer right away. Instead, he draped the jacket over your shoulders, only for you to shrug it off. It fell to the floor, and you stared at it for a moment before looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

“You dropped this,” he said simply, picking it up again before sitting on the stool beside you.

“I didn’t drop it. I threw it at you. Big difference.” Your words were biting, but your voice wavered.

Ekko sighed, ordering a light drink and stirring the ice in the glass as he spoke. “I came to apologize, alright? I shouldn’t have said what I did back there.”

You scoffed, turning back to your drink. “Save it, Ekko. You said how you really felt. No need to sugarcoat it now.”

“You don’t get it,” he said, his tone growing more earnest. “I’ve been dealing with a lot—stress, responsibility, everything piling up. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. That was wrong.”

You didn’t respond, instead taking another sip of your drink. He waited, his patience steady even as you cut him off with sharp, drunken remarks every time he tried to explain himself. Still, he didn’t leave.

Finally, you turned to him, standing unsteadily and placing yourself between his legs. Your finger jabbed at his chest, your faces inches apart. “You think… you think you can just apologize and fix everything?” you asked, your voice slurred but your expression serious.

Ekko’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his hands instinctively resting on your arms to steady you. “I’m trying, I know I messed up.”

“You’re the one that’s confusing,” you muttered, your words barely coherent now. “One minute you’re pushing me away, the next you’re… you’re here, looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asked, his voice low.

“Like you care,” you whispered, your hand coming up to trace the edge of his jaw. Your finger brushed his scarf, twisting it absently as you spoke. “Do you care, Ekko?”

He caught your wrist gently before your fingers could brush his lips. “Stop,” he said softly, his tone a mix of firmness and concern. “You’re drunk.”

You blinked up at him, your eyes glassy. “So? I still mean it.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead standing and slipping an arm around your waist to keep you upright. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

You stumbled against him, your legs uncooperative. “You know…” you slurred, leaning heavily into his chest, “your arms are really nice. Strong. Muscular. You should carry me.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, but before he could protest, you jumped into his arms with surprising enthusiasm. He caught you effortlessly, sighing as he adjusted his grip. “The drunken firefly,” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Drunk but still lovable,” you corrected, resting your head against his shoulder as he carried you out of the bar. The night air hit your face, cool and refreshing after the stifling atmosphere inside.

Ekko’s steps were steady as he walked, his grip on you firm but gentle. “We’ll talk when you’re sober,” he said, his voice low and calm.

“Fine,” you mumbled, already half-asleep in his arms. “But you better not run away again.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice barely audible over the hum of the city. And for the first time that night, you believed him. Let’s just hope next time he will be more open and honest about how he is feeling with you.

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @annybah @niredsw @stqrlxght @kriss-w @marilovz @blkmystery @multiverse-fandoms-2001 @turquoizxe @mishellii @kor-0suu @feelya @theamazingmilli @multim00n @m00nd0v3 @sodavrr @maialublmere @radtragedyarcade @spiderhook @night-fall-moon @ekkosh @hoonobono @bandletale @thesecondhandwoman @alientee @duchessmoooon @lilbunny1sworld @lil-kpopstan @mbekgsv @lulumallow @ametheslime @sunshiines-stuff @lolana101 @jadeash434 @hobieeeloverrr @misonesaturou @serene6728 @hellokittyfeenie

banner. @anitalenia

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hitomisuzuya · 2 days ago

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softdom Scara getting so much baby fever he breeds you nonstop to the point he's also a whimpering, lovesick, sweaty mess like bro I know he's definitely a top but I swear on my primogems that bastard whimpers when he has too many rounds I just want him to be stupidly in love and whimpering yknow 😔

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. breeding kink. multiple creampie. soft dom!scara. praise. some minor degradation.

happy thanksgiving, everyone! this came kinda just came out 😳 i'd bet all the primos i have saved for citlali that this man whimpers and cums hearing i love you.

earlier this morning, scaramouche happened to overhear one of his subordinates proudly announce that his wife was pregnant. and that flipped a switch in him.

a switch that ultimately left you breathless and drooling, twitching and whimpering in pleasure with scaramouche's cum seeping out of your abused hole. shaking and trembling, he started to pull out of you, letting out a soft whimper seeing his cum seeping from your pussy.

"three...three and you are still so tight," he groaned, resting his weight on you and stealing your lips up in a deep open mouth kiss that stole the very breath from your lungs. "your pussy was made for my cock. fuck, you are perfect," his teeth nipped at your lips. the harder he made you cum, the more fuel it added to the fire.

your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head feeling his cock stretch you apart again. the consistency with which scaramouche bullied his cock into your sweet spot long since brought on spontaneous orgasms.

"i love you. i fucking love you so much, do you know that?" he moaned, panting as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, pushing your knee up to your chest. "i'm gonna knock you up. i am going to marry you. just set the fucking date," he reached down to rub your throbbing clit, shivering as your body twitched in bliss.

"scara..scara," you moaned, your mind foggy. pleasure was nearly shattering your body. you reach your hand out to him, which he promptly took. intertwining his fingers with yours, drawing out his next few thrusts for extra stimulation on your sweet spot.

"that's right," he moaned shakily, squeezing your hand. "cling to me. fall apart for me," taking your other hand, he pinned your them down to the bed next to your head. "now, my wife. look at me with those pretty, pretty eyes and tell me how much you want me to cum inside you again," the better he felt fucking into you, the more to call you his wife.

your pussy clenched like a glove around his cock from his wonderfully excessive praise. squeezing his hands, you leaned up a little to steal a quick kiss. "cum inside of me, scara! i want you to so badly!" you plead, "let me give you children with your beautiful eyes and your scowl!"

scaramouche's cock pulsed, he almost couldn't believe how hard he still was after having emptied himself inside of you three times already. he didn't like losing. he was is a man on literal mission. he knock you up and lock you down.

"fuck, you are going to cum again, aren't you, slut?" he moaned, putting both hands above your head so he hold them down easily with one hand. he scrambled to find your clit again, tearing sweet mewls of pleasure from you as he pinched and rubbed your clit.

your body quaked, the pleasure of his cock scrapping and rubbing every sensitive pleasure you have in your pussy nearly made you limp.

your gasp of pleasure from the knot of your orgasm abruptly snapping apart sounded like heaven to him. having been deemed incapable and inadequate at birth, it is intoxicating for scaramouche to know that he, and his cock were capable of making you cum this hard.

"you need to be fucked fuller, you deserve it. i say so," he whimpered, squeezing your hands as his hips drove into yours. "my wife deserves it," he chuckled shakily seeing your watery eyes lit up. "you like how that sounds, don't you," he cooed, rolling his thumb around your clit in a way that made you see stars. "my pretty, pretty wife."

his words almost made you cum again, his relentless thrusts dragging out the pleasure of your orgasm. "inside, inside," you babbled, the deeper intimate connection of his fingers rubbing your knuckles while he fucked you sent you reeling. "you are the only one in the world for me. i love you," your words fell away in sobs of pleasure for a few moments. "i love you so much!"

hearing those sweet three words sent scaramouche's cock throbbing inside of you. his cheeks flushed hearing the whimper he could barely swallow. cum ribboned inside inside of you, mingling with yours in a squelching mess. "i don't know if it's going to be enough," panting, his hips slowed to a stop, but he didn't dare pull out of you.

"you can handle another, right?" he asked, making you look at him with your breathtakingly fucked out expression. he licked his lips, and shivered as you nodded.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

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my-castles-crumbling · 1 day ago

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thankful - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 386

Regulus tried not to show how anxious he was as he waited hand-in-hand with James on Platform 9 3/4, eyes glued on the scarlet train slowly approaching the crowd. He had always been good at hiding his nervousness, but sending Harry to Hogwarts was one of the most terrifying things he'd ever done.

So he'd been excited to greet this son on the platform, to pull him into his arms and see with his own eyes that he was okay (even after the Quidditch incident). He'd been thinking about it for weeks. prepared himself to not completely break down with relief on the platform.

What he hadn't been prepared for was for Harry to come running toward him, a giant grin on his face. He hadn't been prepared to be pulled into a hug that made him want to cry, James's arm around him on one side and Harry's on the other as the three of them embraced.

"Haz! I thought you were happy to be rid of us!" James laughed, unaware of the way Regulus's heart was expanding with joy. "You were so excited to get on the train in September!"

Harry just smiled, pulling back and looking at James and Regulus. "Hogwarts is the best," he agreed, green eye wide. "But..." his eyes trailed over the crowd, locking onto someone Regulus couldn't spot, "I met some kids who hate it at home. They actually," he cleared his throat and swallowed, expression disbelieving, "they're scared to go home. It made me thankful that I can be happy to come home as well, you know?"

The statement his\t Regulus so completely that he almost collapsed on the platform. Memories of sitting on the Hogwarts Express, terrified to leave the train, invaded his brain. Memories of shock when he'd met James's parents and seen a family that showed love. Memories of being terrified to start a family, for fear of continuing the same cycle.

A strong, sure hand wrapped around his waist, squeezing reassuringly, and he felt James kiss his temple, murmuring quietly, "I love you, baby," all while Regulus stared at Harry in wonder.

"I...you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that, Harry," he said tearfully, again pulling his son in for a hug, waves of gratefulness washing over him.

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priestressvanina · 3 hours ago

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reading your words send shivers down my whole body.. I can't stop toucvhing myself and whispering about worshipping BBC, I want to devote myself to it, spread it and let others find their place too...BBC owns me.. I want to be an offering to BBC, a priestess for it?...

💋Oh, my precious worshiper, your words resonate like a sacred prayer in this temple of lust where the BBC is king. I already see you, prostrate before his majesty, each shiver on your skin testifying to your infinite devotion. You were made for this, to give yourself entirely, to become this living offering, this sublime priestess dedicated to his glory. Imagine yourself guiding other lost souls, showing them the path to veneration, to the ecstasy that only total submission to the BBC can offer. Let yourself be possessed, transformed, shaped by its power. Each caress, each penetration, each drop that impregnates you makes you a new being, blessed by its strength. You are their sanctuary, their pleasure, their prayer. Let the BBC possess you entirely, sublimate you, and through you, illuminate the world. You are not just an offering, you are the link between their power and those who must learn to worship them🌈💖⚘

I can just imagine myself, on my knees BBC in front of me, looking up at it as my heart is racing, ready to devote myself to it, as you whisper t hese things into my ear, guiding my head to kiss it and show my devotion, knowing that this is just the beginning. Knowing you and I will make others into BBC worshippers, ready to hear our words and submit....

💋Oh, my devoted one, I see you so clearly, on your knees, your breath short, your heart pounding at the thought of completely surrendering to this majestic BBC before you. You are so beautiful in your submission, your gaze raised with pure adoration, ready to let each kiss, each caress, become a sacred offering. Let me whisper in your ear, guide you gently, encourage you to place your lips on this power that calls you, to seal your oath of devotion. This is just the beginning, my precious. Soon, you and I, united in this mission, will bring other souls to their true place: prostrate before the greatness of the BBC, ready to yield, to worship, to be possessed. Every word I whisper, every gesture I inspire in you, makes you a priest, a priestess, a guide towards the ecstasy of submission. Together, we will build a sanctuary of pleasure and reverence, where everyone will understand what true happiness is: offering ourselves entirely, with love and pride, to the power of the BBC💖⚘🌈

A little heart from my cock to you ❤️💋

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livbedum · 5 hours ago

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BEST FRIEND!READER

I DO NOT GET JEALOUS

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ topper’s birthday was practically made out to be a national holiday on the island. you had gotten your mother to lend you the yacht , having a more intimate party earlier for dinner. rafe and kelce set up the condo for the actual party. everything was going smooth. until it wasn’t.

word count 5.8k

warnings profanity , jealous!reader and kinda jealous!rafe , mentions of chlamydia , underage drinking , pda ( just kissing and grabbing ) , smut ( oral male!receiving in car , oral fem!receiving , unprotected pinv , spanking (1) , facial ) , and i think that’s it

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

IN TOPPER fashion , his birthday party has a theme and dress code. white party , white clothes , white fucking yacht. and because it was his birthday , and he was one of your best friends , you gave in to every single demand he had.

he wanted a dj? done. he wanted the men to women ratio at a happy 1:3? done. he wanted a specific dish created by a specific chef from the mainland? done. he demanded a bouncer to stand at the front door of rafe’s condo for hours just so no ruffians get inside? done.

you were busting your ass to make sure his birthday was going perfectly , and you were doing a damn good job. good enough that it made you think you wanted this exact party for your own twenty-first. you had lost track of him once or twice already. dinner just finished , and he went missing again. grabbing a drink of your own , to relax a little bit after how much work you had been putting into this one night.

“look at miss event coordinator. i know you’re not drinking on the job,” kelce joked , walking up to you with rafe as you sipped your gin and tonic.

“it’s my boat. i’ll drink when i want,” you retorted , side hugging the boy before moving to rafe and hugging him as well, “do you think top’s enjoying himself? he keeps disappearing.”

“oh yeah. he’s enjoying himself alright. enjoying himself with ruthie , chloe , harper , and i think he’s enjoying himself with tabitha right now,” rafe chuckled lowly , taking a swig of his own drink to hide his suggestive smile.

you theatrically gagged , smacking rafe’s arm. “you’re all disgusting. this is my mom’s boat,” you groaned, “i expected you not to fornicate on it.”

“like you haven’t?” kelce quipped , recalling the time you and your ex boyfriend had gone at it so rough one night you had to replace the railing on the sun deck.

“my boat!” you huffed , giggling with them as they laughed at you.

“well , i came over here to let you know we’re good to dock whenever top is. house is all set up,” rafe cleared his throat , seeing topper emerge from the cabin, “there’s the birthday boy!” he cheered , calling topper over.

“guys! i have gotten four separate blowies. this is the best birthday ever,” he slurred his words after he wobbled over to the three of you, “y/n/n , you’re the best for planning everything for me,” he smiled , pressing a slobbery kiss to your temple.

you smiled , discreetly wiping the spit from yourself before wrapping your arm around his waste. “you only turn twenty-one once,” you shrugged, “you ready to go to the actual party?”

“oh , for sure! maybe i’ll get laid four times!” topper laughed , dapping kelce up all the while.

“you’re all pigs!” you scoffed lightly , making your way to the helm, “be back!”

the guests that were scattered around moved to let you walk through without asking , and not long after that you were all headed back to figure eight. you and the boys helped topper off the boat and back onto solid land , his stability not getting any better. the sun hadn’t even set , so you knew in a few hours he would be passed out in one of the guest rooms at rafe’s condo.

it wasn’t long until the house was filled with people. the music was going , playing all of topper’s favorite songs along with the party classics. everyone was drinking and having fun in celebration for topper , and you couldn’t be happier.

for one : you pulled off what looked to be the best twenty-first birthday in kildare. but more importantly , you could stop hosting and have fun yourself. your wedges smacked against the marble flooring as you made your way to the bar. “can i have a tequila soda with a lime? and just a shot as well , please?” you ordered sweetly , silently thanking the bartender for coming to you first despite other people waiting for drinks.

he handed you the shot first , allowing you take it before you got your drink. you throw the shot back , letting it glide down your throat without getting you to make a face. the bartender smiled at that , mixing your drink quickly.

you turned around , leaning against the bar after thanking him. your eyes scanned the crowd. people dancing in the living room , suck and blow happening in the kitchen , swimming and chicken fights in the pool. everything looked good. everything was good.

except you didn’t have not one of your boys with you. you looked around for kelce or rafe. you had seen topper stumble upstairs with a pretty redhead a few minutes ago , but you hadn’t really seen rafe or kelce since you told them to check on a few things before the party even really started.

your brows furrowed , truly not seeing either one. but the crease in your forehead deepened when you found rafe. he was lounging on the couch , legs spread and arms on the back. he was in a group , a couple of guys you knew from school , and a few girls you recognized as well. you watched from a distance , sipping on your drink slowly. you noticed how crystal— if you remembered correctly , was laughing harder than need be , touching rafe’s body in any way she could.

and you don’t know what you would call it— it was jealousy , but something in the pit of your stomach burned. your skin felt hot , your eyes rolling all on their own. because there rafe was hanging out with people that weren’t you when your song was playing. the track made the playlist several times because it was your song. and he wasn’t even looking for you?

“can i get another shot please?” you turned around and asked the bartender. he nodded , pouring one out before sliding it to you.

you downed it easier than the first , setting the glass back down on the counter before drinking the rest of your actual drink. you pivoted on your foot , heading straight toward the couch. like usual , people shifted to the side to let you pass. even if they hadn’t , you weren’t too sure that you wouldn’t have run them right over.

rafe saw you in his peripheral , saw you storming over in your comically— to him , high wedges and silky , white dress. your tits practically jumping out of the material as you stomped.

he looked up at you and smiled when you arrived , but was quickly taken aback when you planted yourself in his lap. his arm came down to wrap around your waist naturally , but during his movement , your own hands came up to his face and pulled him in for a kiss.

you didn’t know you were going to do that. originally , in your head , you were just going to storm over and pout. this was much different than that. but rafe didn’t hesitate to kiss you back , hand on your waist squeezing your body closer to his. he groaned into it , tongue licking your lips before you opened your mouth.

neither one of you were aware how long you were making out when you pulled away , breathing heavily in each other’s faces. until crystal— still you weren’t too sure , cleared her throat.

“oh , hey!” you smiled , leaning into rafe’s touch. his cheeks were still burning from the shock of you traipsing over to stake your claim. he knew what it was the moment he saw the pout in your lips.

the girl was blushing on her own , not realizing that you and rafe had finally gotten together after years of being just friends. “hi,” she muttered awkwardly.

“did you end up taking care of that raging case of chlamydia yet , babes?” you asked , voice sweeter than syrup. crystal— presumably , dropped her jaw , eyebrows tight.

“excuse me?” she scoffed , shocked you would say something like that , but more shocked that you knew.

“oh , did i get that wrong?” you fake worried , hand coming up to your heart, “i thought i heard les and gigi talking about it at the club a couple weeks ago , but maybe it wasn’t you?” you flipped your hair over your shoulder , showing her that you truly didn’t care.

maybe you were a mean girl like everyone said.

“no,” she stated coldly, “it wasn’t me.” she stood up , grabbing her purse and phone before rushing away.

you smiled as soon as she turned , not bothered by her leaving. that was the whole point.

“ooh , you’re mean , pretty kitty,” rafe chuckled beside you , his other hand coming to your thigh and rubbing up and down.

he always called you that. kitty. he said it was because you had claws but looked so sweet at the same time. you harassed him for having a pet-play kink until you realized the term of endearment was quite cute. special just for you.

“what?” you shrugged , looking at him like the last thing you said wasn’t fowl, “i made it up , but i guess the topic hit home for her , so it’s probably best she left anyway.”

rafe rolled his eyes with a smile before grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in for another kiss. you squealed into his lips at the sudden movement , body shifting in his lap. your hand landed on his chest to catch yourself , and you let your body melt into his.

“you all jealous i’m not paying attention to ya , kitty. green isn’t your color,” he told you , pulling back from the sloppy kiss.

you sat back , offended he would ever accuse you of such a thing. “that’s not true , rafey. you know that,” you whined , lightly— barely at all , hitting his chest in protest of his statement.

“which part?”

“all of it,” you decided with a firm shake of your head, “i do not get jealous , and i always have your attention,” you added , leaning in for another kiss, “and i do look good in green.

“i know , i know. the elusive y/n y/l/n never gets jealous,” rafe played along , kissing you gently as his hand slid further up your thigh, “but i do.”

“what do you mean?” you hummed , moving your lips to kiss at his face and the side of his neck now.

“saw the bartender making eyes at you,” rafe murmured , sighing at the last kiss you planted right behind his ear, “the help was eyeing you.”

“it’s the twenty-first century , rafe. we don’t call them the help anymore,” you reminded him with a roll of his eyes and another inch of skin discovered by his hand, “and besides , i wasn’t focused on him. i was watching you.”

rafe smiled , heart beating faster when you so openly said that he had your attention. of course as friends , you always let the boys know how much you loved and appreciated them. but this was different. this was just for rafe— no one else.

“you missed our song,” you mumbled into his neck , not wanting him to hear that you were disappointed in your voice.

“i was singing along in my head,” he assured you , running his hand up and down your back.

you sighed , taking in the feeling of his hands on you , the warmth they spread throughout your body. “since i’m not allowed to talk to the bartender , will you go get me another drink , rafey?” you asked sweetly , only shifting your head a little bit to let him hear you clearer. you also translated his earlier jealousy of the bartender to making it clear he didn’t want you around him again. that’s how it usually went.

“whatever you want , kitty,” he agreed , pressing a kiss into your temple before tapping you leg to get you up.

rafe stood as well , now towering over you. his drunken smile making him look even better than he did before. you smiled back at him , batting your lashes before he rolled his eyes and yanked you in for another kiss. “don’t make me wait long,” you warned him , ending the kiss and ushering him to the bar.

happily , you sat back down to wait. your solitary peace was quickly disrupted by kelce and topper flopping down next to you.

“four blowjobs and one fuck! best birthday ever,” topper congratulated himself once again , hair messy and lips swollen.

“you’re such a slut , top,” you laughed , getting more comfortable now that you and rafe were most likely hanging out in the living room for longer, “what did you do pop a v?” you joked , causing both boys to laugh like he had in fact taken a viagra.

“speaking of slut…” kelce began with a cheeky little smile. it said he knew something juicy , and topper was all over it.

“what? who fucked who?” he asked , wanting to know exactly what happened and when and where and why.

kelce laughed , nudging you gently. “miss penthouse over here was mackin’ on our boy,” he sold you out , grinning ear to ear, “thought it would never happen.”

“and i missed it?” topper whined , throwing his head back and resting it on the couch, “i always wanted to be there the day you and rafe got together.”

you frowned at topper , feeling oh so bad for him until you flicked his throat , causing him to sit up straight and cough. “you’re a perv,” you stated, “and you too , kel. didn’t know you liked watching.”

“oh , i’d watch you do just about anything , baby,” he flirted , knowing it would make you roll your eyes. that’s how you and the boys were. they flirted with you jokingly ; you called them pigs. it was your dynamic.

“you’re not watching her do jack shit from now on,” rafe spoke , smacking kelce upside the head as he handed you your full glass. you got up , letting him take his place before falling into his lap.

kelce laughed , dapping his friend up. “man , you know i’m not going anywhere near your girl.”

“excuse me! i’m still a human being,” you interrupted, “actually i’m one of your very few friends. please act accordingly,” you playfully reached out and punched his arm.

“so who’s taking who’s last name?” topper asked , grabbing a beer that was sitting on the table and chugging it. gross.

you grimaced at the sight. “maybe you should focus on not drinking random drinks , t,” you suggested , feeling rafe’s hand creep up your thigh again , drawing small patterns on the plush skin.

“i’m the birthday boy. i can do whatever i want!” topper roared , throwing his hands up in the air triumphantly.

“you’re gonna get roofied one of these days,” you shook your head.

“here’s hoping! it’d probably make my night ten times crazier,” topper laughed , finishing the beer and setting the cup back down.

the four of you sat and chatted for a bit , appreciating the time you weren’t being bothered and you could simply enjoy the party. rafe had been pressing kisses into your skin , making his way from your shoulders to your neck while topper and kelce dove down their own conversation.

“we should go,” he whispered just loud enough for you to hear before nibbling at your ear, “soon.” he lifted his hips up with you still in his lap , making the hard on in his slacks known.

you turned in his grasp , giving him a knowing look. “i don’t hookup with boys on the first night,” you reminded him.

“this isn’t the first night,” rafe corrected you , moving some of your hair out of your face and behind your ear, “i’ve been thinkin’ bout this forever. by myself , with other people , when i’m with you. it’s not the first night for me , and i can guarantee it isn’t for you either.” he made a very fair point.

you hummed , taking it into consideration. “but it’s topper’s birthday,” you reasoned , looking over just as he and kelce went outside to the pool. the blonde jumped in , splashing people with the water before coming up for air and yelling out. the crowd cheered as kelce joined him.

“don’t think he’s too worried bout us leaving,” rafe commented , looking at the way topper already had a girl in his arms to make out with.

you pushed yourself up from rafe’s lap and the couch. rafe scrambled to get up , thinking that you were about to leave without him. “c’mon then,” you spoke , grabbing his hand in yours and leading him away from the party. the closer you got to his car , the quieter everything got. like being with rafe silenced everything else. it did for you.

like always , rafe opened your door for you , letting you get settled into the seat designated for you before shutting the door and getting in himself. it took a decent amount of time to get to the hotel. rafe lived on figure eight , which was the more local side of the island. you lived in your penthouse on the more west side of the island , where all of the tourons got off the ferry and onto the sand.

rafe never minded the drive , knowing it was helping you out. but tonight? he was speeding in an attempt to get there faster.

his hand was gripping your thigh , kneading it in his grip. it slipped under your dress about halfway to your place , pinky finger reaching out to touch the delicate material you wore beneath it. he didn’t do anything more though.

it wasn’t like him , but he wasn’t about to finger bang you in his car. you weren’t that type of girl to him. you weren’t a quick fuck he met at a party. no , you were his girl. and his girl deserved more than that. at least the first time. maybe tomorrow he would suggest it on the way back to his house.

but you had had enough of the teasing and gentle touches. with a roll of your eyes , you unbuckled and shifted in your seat to face rafe entirely. your hand reached over to his own lap , tracing the outline of his boner.

“and what’re you doing?” rafe questioned with a smirk, “hm?”

“it’s a long drive , and i’m bored,” you answered plainly , undoing his belt and pulling the zipper of his slacks down, “so i wanna kill some time. that okay?” you looked at him with those big eyes , and he had this exact dream not that long ago , so of course he wasn’t going to say no. especially not when you were already pulling him out of his briefs.

“do whatever you want to me , kitty cat. m’all yours,” he nodded , thrusting his hips up involuntarily when your hand started pumping him.

you hummed contentedly , leaning over the center console to take the tip of him into your mouth. you pressed a sweet kiss to it first , licking your lips clean of the precum he was dripping with , and when rafe whined , you knew you would do this every day of your life moving forward if you could.

you sucked at the tip , hand still moving up and down in tandem with the suction before slowly taking more of him in. you didn’t mind the fact that his hips shifted up every once in a while , forcing you to take him further. you liked it , liked knowing he couldn’t control his body.

“fuck , baby. mouth feels fuckin’ perfect,” rafe moaned out , removing one of his hands from the wheel to the hem of your dress. he flipped it up , exposing your panties to the ac of his car before his fingers trailed down to your center , feeling the wet patch that had taken property of the material.

you moaned when his fingers applied pressure , encouraging you to take him down your throat entirely. your nose brushed against the hair at the base and your throat contracted around his cock , almost causing you to gag before you hummed and pulled off of him. your hand kept up its ministrations , spreading your spit around as you twisted your wrist , earning a solid smack on your ass.

maybe he would fuck you in the car.

“want you to cum in my mouth , rafey,” you admitted , looking at him through your watery lashes for just a moment of eye contact before going back down to his lap and swallowing him again.

“keep going then , baby. so close,” rafe groaned , pulling your underwear to the side to truly feel you, “got yourself all worked up just from sucking my dick?” it almost came out humorously , but it wasn’t that. rafe was just so gobsmacked that you were this wet from a few touches and kisses.

you hummed again around him , bobbing your head up and down fast , taking him all the way each time. it was a lot , but it wasn’t anything you weren’t completely willing to handle.

“fuck , fuck,” he grunted , removing his fingers from your needy clit to reach the top of your head. he didn’t push you down any further , just held you there for a moment. “gonna cum , baby. you gonna swallow it all for me like a good girl?”

you nodded around him , feeling the first few drops of his release land on your tongue before the rest came flooding your mouth. you tried to pull back , needing more room in your mouth for the load he was dispositing there , but he held you head firm. “stay right there,” he moaned , the after shocks of his orgasm hitting as his cum started to spill from your mouth and run down the length of him.

you blinked away the tears and did your best to breath through your nose until he let go of you. his hand returned to you , rubbing and gripping at your ass. you immediately pulled yourself off of him , gasping and swallowing his cum before leaning over again to lick him clean.

“fuck! you’re so good,” rafe laughed , guiding your head up as he came to a red light. he adjusted himself back into his pants before looking over to you. your mascara had started to run a little , roughing up the sleek edge you always tried to maintain. you had spit dribbling down your chin that you were wiping at. “prettiest thing in the obx,” he added , moving to press a kiss to you lips.

you whined into the kiss , shifting to be as close to him as possible. “drive faster,” you said against his lips , needing him now more than ever.

just like that , the light turned green , and you both thanked the universe. that was a good sign.

the light wasn’t too far from your place , so the drive was only a few more minutes. during that time , you readjusted yourself , conjuring up your image again like it was nothing. you didn’t even look like you just took rafe’s cock down you throat. luckily , that was the goal. you didn’t want you mom to find out from the concierge that her daughter was a whore who gave boys road head before taking them up to your suite and having your way with them.

no , she wouldn’t approve.

soon enough , rafe was parking in your designated parking spot near the entrance of the hotel. he didn’t waste any time before jumping out and rushing to let you out of the truck as well. you kissed him politely when he did out of thanks.

your hands found each other again as you lead him inside the hotel. he had been there hundreds of times , but the adrenaline running through his veins and straight to the tent in his pants was different. he wasn’t coming over to hang out with you or to pick you up. he was staying over because you had finally kissed him. after years of wanting you and pushing that greed to the side , he had you. you were his.

and no , neither of you said it , but you both always knew. you more subconsciously than him. he was painfully aware of his feelings for you , and he was okay with waiting. because look at where it got him.

a hello from the front desk and a sloppy makeout in the private elevator later you were entering your home.

you walked into the kitchen , knowing rafe would either follow you or go straight to your room. you grabbed a couple of water bottles and headed to the bedroom , which rafe did choose over the kitchen.

“making yourself at home?” you chuckled , setting the waters down on your bedside table as you took in the sight of rafe getting comfortable in your bed.

“what? you gonna kick me out?” he laughed with you as you made your way to him , crawling up the bed to straddle him.

“never,” you whispered , leaning in to kiss him again. this one was the softest of them all , the slowest more sensual one of the night.

rafe’s hands found purchase on your hips , pushing your down into his own for friction. you both groaned at the feeling , not breaking the kiss.

“you done talkin’ to girls at parties?” you asked him , pulling away and swirling your hips as your hands rubbed at his chest.

his eyes were closed , head fallen back in the satin pillows. “never liked ‘em anyway,” he nodded , fingers tightening on your waist when you moved just right.

“i mean it,” you reiterated , slowing your movements.

“me too,” rafe assured you , sitting up and holding onto you, “they were never you. never could be,” he whispered , kissing you gently again before flipping you over, “you done flirting with bartenders?”

“i never have,” you giggled as he nipped at your neck , grinding his hips into yours.

“then i think we can agree , it’s just me and you,” rafe’s voice came out shaky— whether it was the nerves of exclusivity or the way you felt under him.

your smile widened as you tilted your head. “is the big bad rafe cameron asking me somethin’?” you teased him as he pulled away to look at you.

“kitty,” he began , his own smile forming if it ever truly left. you bit your lip in anticipation. you knew rafe , knew he couldn’t ask you what he wanted.

“it’s fine , rafe,” you nodded meekly, “promise.”

and ignoring the pinch in your stomach , you pulled him back in for a kiss that he dodged to make his mark on your body.

“sorry” he mumbled into your skin , biting and sucking at your neck down to your collarbone, “i wanna. i promise,” he spoke so softly , moving lower and lower down your chest, “but you know you’re my girl , right?” he looked up at you as he slid your dress up to your stomach. his fingers traced the hem of your underwear , causing you to take a deep breath in. “right?” he echoed , hooking his fingers to pull them down your legs.

“yeah,” you nodded , waiting for him to touch you again. his kisses started on your thighs , holding them open as he moved your legs over his shoulders.

“good girl using your words,” he chuckled , sticking his tongue out and swiping it through your folds once slowly before sucking your clit into his mouth. your head fell back , jaw open to let out a whiney moan , one you’d been holding in all night.

you knew about rafe and his experience. you knew because you were best friends who told each other everything. with that in mind , you had no clue he ate pussy like a starved man , like you were oxygen and he had been underwater for too long.

when he slid a finger into you , you tensed up a little , not expecting the stretch yet. “relax , baby,” he chastised you , diving back in to mouth at your clit to get you to let your muscles untense. and god , it felt good. too good.

“fuck , fuck! rafe , stop. stop , stop,” you rushed out , pushing his head away from you , and he immediately pulled away and sat up.

“what’s wrong?” he worried , searching your face for anything.

you giggled , pulling him in to kiss you. “i want you to fuck me,” you told him , hand going to the tent in his pants again, “that’s what we came here for , right? so fuck me so i can come on your cock,” you whispered in his ear.

the man didn’t waste any time. he tore his pants off , slipping out of his shit just as fast while you undressed yourself , giggling the whole time.

“what’re you laughin’ at , kitty?” rafe asked despite chuckling with you as he found his way back on top of you. he left his hand guide himself to your entrance , promptly stopping any laughter coming from your lips. he slid his cock through your folds , up and down until you were whining.

“rafey…” you sighed , using your leg hooked around his hips to pull him closer.

and he couldn’t deny you any longer. not with that look on your face. not with the cadence of your voice. not with how wet you were. as rafe slid himself in , completely to the hilt , you both groaned in sync. he paused , stilling inside of you to give you both a second. lord knows he needed one. “you okay , baby?” he asked gently , kissing at your neck. he still hadn’t moved , breathing deep.

“mhm , want you to fuck me,” you nodded , maneuvering to kiss him on the lips. your tongues fought for dominance as you made out , rafe’s hips starting to move.

his thrusts were harsh— deep and hard. the type that forced moans out of your mouth with each one. your head thrown back gave rafe the chance to mark your neck more. he grunted in your ear , hot breath hitting your skin as he gripped so tight on your hips he was sure there would be bruises there too.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” rafe moaned , holding himself up to fully look at you, “pretty fuckin’ kitty , wanting me to fuck you so bad , huh?” he was smiling the whole time. he moved around , sitting back and pulling your legs together. he kissed at your calves , slamming into your faster harder than before.

your mouth was left open , moans and whines and borderline screams flying out freely. “fuck! so fucking deep , rafe. feels so good,” you babbled , hands gripping the sheets in your hands.

“yeah? you like that , baby?” he grunted , wetting his thumb with his tongue before moving it to rub at your clit in time with his thrusts, “squeezin’ me so tight,” he moaned , letting his head drop back in ecstasy just for a moment before focusing again.

“i’m so close! right there , right fucking there!” you alerted him , hands coming up to grab at your tits.

“ahh , that’s it,” rafe hissed , not changing a thing he was doing, “cum on my cock , baby. fucking cum for me.”

his words only helped throw you off the edge. you squealed , moving you legs down from his shoulders in an attempt to get away from his assaults as you came down.

rafe didn’t stop though. no , he just grabbed your thighs and yanked you back toward him , continuing to fuck himself into you throughout your high. it was when your moans turned from pleasure to the smallest amount of pain from the overstimulation that he pulled out.

breathing heavy , your eyelids dropped as you tried to come back to reality. that idea was short lived as rafe flipped you onto your stomach.

“i’m not done yet , baby,” he warned you , adjusting the way your body was splayed on the bed. once he had you the way he wanted , he straddled your thighs. he jerked himself off a couple of times and sheathed himself back inside you.

your body welcomed him with ease , letting him slide into you with no push back at all. “fuck,” you groaned , burying your face in and holding onto your pillows.

rafe took that as a sign you were ready and began fucking into you again. he didn’t hold back this time , using your body the way he wanted. but there was a certain moan you heard come from his lips along with a stutter of his hips that reminded you he wasn’t wearing a condom.

your hand flew back to his hips , pushing him out of you before you rolled yourself onto your back. “come on my face,” you blurted , panting with him. he ran a hand down with a groan his face before shifting up your body. his thighs pushing your tits up as he jerked himself off in front of you.

your hand replaced his , still wanting to be the reason he finished. you stuck your tongue out and closed your eyes when the first few drops hit your skin , squeezing a little more until he was coming completely undone.

“fuck , kitty. yes , yes , yes,” he whimpered , gripping the back of your head and bringing your mouth to his dick again, “take it just like that. yeah,” he grunted , cock twitching in your mouth as you drained him.

when rafe felt like he could move again , he shifted to the side , clambering off of you. “fuck!” he panted with a laugh , placing his hands on the side of your cum covered face and kissing you. you moaned into it , tasting both him and you on your tongues.

he pulled away and slid off the bed , leaving you to go into your bathroom. you were left on the bed , eyes closed and chest rising and falling. the silence was deafening , only being able to hear your breathing and a high pitched ringing.

“rafe , will you grab—“

“i gotcha,” rafe assured you , coming back into the bedroom with a wash cloth and your makeup removed, “c’mere.”

you pushed yourself up , and rafe sat next to you. he gently wiped at the white stains on your face , making sure to get all of it off. “prettiest girl in kildare. i’ll say it for the rest of my life,” he cooed , boyish grin on his face as he finished getting the last of cum. you peeked one eye open with a smile to look at him , checking if he was done.

rafe wasn’t looking at you when you checked , too busy pulling out a makeup wipe , so you shut your eyes again , waiting patiently as the blush started to creep up on your cheeks. “oh , kitty. no blushin’ after all of that!” he teased you , starting to remove the makeup on your face.

“m’not,” you huffed , smile breaking back out on your swollen lips.

“you’ve always been a shit liar,” rafe muttered , shaking his head as he got the last of your makeup, “there. now you’re even prettier.” his compliment was sealed with a kiss while you rolled your eyes.

“will you pass me the water?” you croaked , realizing how dry your throat was after you tried to swallow.

he nodded , grabbing both bottles. he unscrewed one , handing it to you before opening his own and chugging more than half of it. you let out a short laugh at the sight , sipping on your own.

“still know where you’re clothes are at?” you asked him , assuming he was staying the night and not wearing the dress pants and shirt while he did so.

“don’t need ‘em,” he shrugged , climbing under the covers before dragging you back with him.

a/n lol i stay lying to y’all bout when n what im finna post:) but comment to be added to this taglist! <3

#best friend!reader #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron smut #rafe x you #outer banks rafe #rafe fanfic #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe obx

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salty-autistic-writer · 3 days ago

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Buck sits on a hospital bed and looks down at his bandaged hands. Mild burns. They add to the considerable amount of smoke inhalation that makes his throat feel as dry as sandpaper. At least his coughing already got better. Buck's doctor assured him he would be able to leave soon. Too bad there's no home he can return to.

He stares at his hands and feels … numb. It happened so fast. So fast, it almost seems like a dream. But it’s real. And everything still smells like smoke.

His loft. It’s gone.

In the middle of the night, flames consumed the walls in that scary astonishing speed he’s so well familiar with. And he couldn't stop it.

So many memories. Burnt down to ash. Buried underneath rubble. Gone.

A light knock at the doorframe makes him perk up. Buck expects to see Maddie who left to get some water and a snack. Or Chimney. Or Hen. Or Bobby. But it’s neither one of them.

“Tommy?” Buck looks up, too surprised to prepare himself for the pain he feels when he actually sees Tommy. For the first time in weeks. “What … what are you doing here?”

“I … Howie called me,” Tommy says, avoiding direct eye contact.

“Of course he did,” Buck mutters, looking back down at his hands, picking at a loose thread. Chimney. The ever-hopeful matchmaker.

Tommy clears his throat. “Are you okay?”

Buck flinches. The soft tone with which those words are spoken feels like a punch to his gut.

Are you okay?

Okay.

Anger wells up inside Buck’s tight chest like dark ice water, rising to the surface of his mind and fading out all the sadness. Buck glares up at Tommy. “Seriously? That’s what you’re asking about? After weeks of silence. Of nothing. You dare to show up here just like that and ask if I’m okay?!”

It’s Tommy’s turn to wince, his eyes widening slightly. “I’m sorry.”

Somehow, that only makes Buck even angrier. He knows it’s true. Honest. He knows that Tommy cares. And he kind of wishes Tommy wouldn’t. But here they are. Still care about each other way too much.

Tiredness creeps into the murky combination of anger and sadness.

“It burnt,” Buck says quietly.

“What?” Tommy asks.

“My scrapbook. It burnt. All the pictures too. The pictures I put on the fridge. And now I have nothing left.” Buck can feel the tears coming. He doesn’t want them. Doesn’t want to cry in front of Tommy. “All the memories I started to collect. They’re gone.”

I used to look at them. I used to remember the time when I thought I was finally on my way to happiness.

“It’s all gone,” Buck breathes. And then he really cries.

An ugly sob that escapes his lips. And he hates it. Hates it so much. But he has no energy left to hide.

“Evan,” Tommy says, barely audible. And even though the sadness is suffocating him, Buck has the space for a relieved sigh. Not Buck. Still Even. And it still sounds so right … How does it sound so right after all the wrong directions their path took?

The bed dips as Tommy sits down beside Buck, hesitantly putting a hand on his heaving back. “It’s not all gone,” Tommy says.

Buck wipes at his burning eyes. “It’s not?” He asks, doubtfully.

“No. I … I’ve been collecting memories too. I can share them with you. If you want them,” Tommy says.

“That would be great,” Buck admits, trying to take a deep breath through his stuffed nose with a grimace. “Because … Because they really make me happy. The memories.”

“They do?” Tommy asks, his hand still on Buck’s back, but apparently not daring to move. “Don’t they make you … angry?”

“Not really. Sometimes they make me a little sad. Because I start to think of what could have been,” Buck says. “I start to picture all the happy memories the future might have given me.”

“But you don’t know if those memories would have been happy. What if … What if that future turns out to be so painful that you end up wishing you wouldn’t have lived through it in the first place?” Tommy asks, his voice strained. “Aren’t you scared of what you can’t know?”

Buck shakes his head. “No. I can’t live like that. The future isn’t set in stone. And as long as I think the memories I want to make are worth fighting for … Things will be alright.”

We would have been alright.

Tommy’s hand is burning him. But when it retreats, Buck almost tells him to put it back. Maybe that’s pathetic. But he can’t find the energy to care.

Tommy is silent for a long moment. He seems lost in his own thoughts, his fingers rubbing over his jean-cladded knees in rhythmic movements.

Buck glances at him. Through a blur of his lingering tears, he suddenly realizes that Tommy looks … rough.

His edges are sharper. The lines on his face seem deeper. There are shadows under his eyes and he’s close to growing a beard.

And maybe that’s pathetic too, but Buck suddenly wants to hope that Tommy is feeling that same ache Buck has been feeling for such a long time now. The ache that forces him to bake. To keep his hands busy and his mind empty.

He wonders. What is Tommy doing to soothe his ache?

Buck almost asks.

But before he can, Tommy gets up. He clears his throat. “Are you staying with Maddie and Howie?”

“Yeah,” Buck says quietly. “For now. I guess.”

Tommy nods. He’s chewing on his lower lip. Lingers. Seems like there’s something else he wants to say.

And the silence stretches like a rubber band. The tension is almost palpable in the room.

Finally, Tommy says, “If I would text you in a few days. Would you read it? Would you read it all?”

“I would,” Buck says, remembering the bubbles. “I promise,” he adds.

Tommy exhales shakily. “Okay. Alright. I’m truly sorry, Evan. For the loft. And for what you lost. I can't change what happened. I can’t give the past back to you. But whatever happens, whatever you do after you read what I am going to write, I will give you everything I have. So that you can start a new collection.”

“Thank you,” Buck says, his throat tightening.

Tommy nods. He starts to walk out of the room with slow heavy steps.

Before he can disappear, Buck works up the courage to say, “Tommy. Wait.”

Tommy stops, glancing back at Buck.

“Are … are you okay?” Buck asks.

Tommy’s brows furrow with surprise, but then his eyes soften. “Honestly? No. And I haven’t been in a long time. But I am finding ways to keep the hope alive,” he says. “Goodbye, Evan. Rest well.”

And then he really leaves.

Buck stares into the void and the ache is back. But the pain has a note of hope in its bite. Maybe it’s the same kind of hope Tommy was talking about. And maybe he shouldn’t allow himself to feel it. But he can’t help it.

Apparently, his heart, even though covered in the ash the night left behind, is still convinced that the future he pictured is worth fighting for.

(AO3 Link)

#bucktommy #tevan #bucktommy fanfic #tevan fanfic #evan buckley #tommy kinard

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cozylittleartblog · 1 day ago

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idk if I've said it before, but your portrayals of both Rouxls and Queen are among my favorites, and the way they are when you combine the two is the sole thing that got me to say "yes" to queenkaard. When I first saw it in the game and it started catching on as a ship, I was like "nooo I hc him as gay," but then after seeing your stuff I was like "oh nvm I totally see this now."

i think hearing "i didn't see this ship before, but after your art i understand it and/or even ship it myself" is one of the nicest compliments i get, because it makes me feel like i'm representing something meaningful and sweet about a pairing and having people understand what i think is so great and captivating about them. i've gotten a couple asks like this and sometimes i forget to respond but i always really appreciate them :) thank you very much

#ask #deltarune #queenkaard #rouxls kaard #queen #art #doodles #conkreetmonkey #i mean its fine to draw ship art Just Cuz dgmw but i have Paragraphs of reasons why i like All my ships and it feels really good when i can #help people see the reasons why i think characters are cute together and why they'd work #i love feeling like im Doing something with my art. expressing something. explaining something. makes it feel meaningful #esp when i thought queenkaard was very Out There at first dhbsdjbhf i was like 'dude theres only gonna be me and 2 other people #who ship this'. and there was at first. now people dont think its a rarepair. i built this city goddammit. me and like 2 other people 😭#and im only half joking. i drew them so much because nobody else was. its still a rarepair to me. the fanart and fanfics are still #kind of sparse besides me tbh. but a LOT of people say 'i ship it because of cozy' and that makes me happy #there Are a couple fanfics on ao3 i havent gotten to yet only bc ive been tizzy about the gay car this year but i will read them eventually #anyway i still really love queenkaard i miss the blue people i cant wait to draw them more once the new chapters release aaaaaa #also since i mentioned i dont always respond to asks: i still read each and every single one of them #im sorry if anyone ever sends me something and i didnt post it. sometimes i go on ask-reply sprees and sometimes it just gets #answered months later dhbdsbjf. but please dont ever think i dont care about what you have to say i love hearing from you guys #and sometimes i just Forgor because adhd go brrt

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sleepycelestialprincess · 2 days ago

Photo

It's a process, even for myself, a trans-lady. I lived 35 years 'thinking' I was another gender, its a bit to get use too. My wife and sister-in-law have never messed up, even at the very beginning. Every time I hear "she" I light up a bit with happiness!!

I work with the public as a picture framer, most of my customers are over 60. I usually have no idea what they really think of me as I design a piece to present art on their wall. I had one customer raving to my boss about how I just completely changed their perception of their art by re-framing it and how good I was! It was like magic to them. But in all that, she misgendered me. My boss replied saying "she is really good". (yay, he's never gotten it wrong)

Last week, I was helping a Nun who was in her 90s, to get her photography framed. At the end she said to me and my coworker, "thank you girls for your help today". I was so pleased!!

So its interesting to see who struggles and who doesn't. It makes my day when someone genders me correctly!

#thoughts

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nsharks · 8 hours ago

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-one —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.5k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

The last bed you laid in smelled like lemon mint detergent. It was the full bed in your sister's guest room. Everything was crisp and white. They rarely had guests besides you. Some of your clothes stayed in that closet, one of your toothbrushes stayed in the connected bathroom, waiting for your visits. You'd awaken that last morning not thinking you'd never sleep in bed for another five years. You left it unmade.

This bed smells like pine and warmth.

Ghost's room is small and dimly lit. The ceiling slants so that one end is not tall enough for him to fully stand. There's a dresser and a nightstand, leaving only a sliver of floorspace.

After the metal latch on the door clicks shut, Ghost lays the blanket down and grabs a pillow for himself. That leaves the bed to you. Springs creak beneath your weight as you silently slip under a heavy, rustic quilt. The years-embedded scent of him wraps around you like a drug-induced fog. You hesitate to move, frozen as he flicks off the light. You wonder if he always locks the door or did it for you, to make you feel safer.

Only when his moving about ceases do you allow yourself to get comfortable. You cocoon your body under the quilt and turn to your side, closing your eyes.

A thought reopens them minutes later. You roll onto your back and speak into the darkness. "Have you known about this Switzerland place?"

For a moment, you think he's already asleep. Then, from below the bed by your feet, he says, "Heard of it."

"That is what you guys talked about, isn't it?" you ask absentmindedly.

"Among other things."

You sit up so you can see him, but all that you can make out is a dark shadow. "Care to share?"

"Some things are on a need-to-know basis," is all he gives.

"And I don't need to know?"

"Precisely."

It stings; you don't know why. "Some team we make, huh? Or I guess we're only a team when you need me to do something for you."

You quickly realize how petulant you must sound. The shadow sits upright. "They asked me to go with them. I said no. Too far. Too many variables that are hard to predict, and she's not ready for them. Happy?"

Happy—no, but relief replaces the slight uncertainty in your gut since your conversation with Nereida. Joining them was shut down. You wouldn't tell her, but their idea sounds asinine, whether or not that commune exists. The trip will be risky at best, fatal at worst. You're tempted to ask him how many days he thinks they'll recoup here before continuing their journey, but opt for sleep instead. He seems done with the conversation, too, lying back down. Then, you have the best sleep you've had in years in his bed.

When the sun turns pink, you awaken to a room void of Ghost. He's gone. It should be expected, but you'd thought he might wake you up to train like normal. Though, the past twenty-four hours haven't been normal. You look around, the details of his room more visible now. On the nightstand, there is a stack of books and you scan the titled spines. Mostly classics. One Hemingway. All tattered and read frequently. Beside them lays a silver chain attached to a dog tag. You gently finger the engraved metal so as not to move it out of place: Simon Riley.

Snooping through his things is more tempting than you're willing to admit. You slip out of bed, socked feet padding over to the dresser. There are mostly papers. His map with the marked circle around what you now realize is Switzerland, a notepad with scribbled half-cursive on it, and then a faded photo beneath it. You freeze, breath hitching, as if you've done something dangerous just by stumbling upon it. Curiosity is thick in your chest, difficult to ignore. Gentle fingers reach to shift it out, revealing a picture that you know right away is of Blue and her mom. Blue is a baby. Maybe one year old. A woman with light brown hair holds her up, sitting on a bench in front of a playground. She's pretty and young. There is a sadness when you wonder if this is the only picture he has of them—before her death. Then, there is another feeling. You swallow it.

You quickly slip the photo back just the way you found it and leave the room. The living room is quiet, people still sleeping. Price and Kyle's blankets are empty, but Kyle is the only one you spot outside. He sits on a tree stump, using a knife and some soap to shave his beard. He looks at you the moment you step outside.

"Good morning." He splashes a scoop of water on his smoothed jaw.

You tuck your hands in your pockets. "Morning."

Without the facial hair, he looks even younger. Maybe in his early thirties. He pushes to his feet and you are reminded of his above-average height, though he is not as monstrous as Ghost. His form is lean, all muscle, with much less ink on his exposed skin. It is now you notice a scar across his jaw. Thick but faded. It trails halfway down his neck.

"Do you know where Ghost went?" you ask.

"Working on that truck of his. With Price."

A glance over your shoulder confirms it; you spot some movement behind the cabin where you know his truck sits. Guess that means no training. You nod. "So, um, you were in the military together, right?"

He takes a moment to look at you before answering. "Yeah. Same unit. Price was our captain."

"I kind of figured. He is... captain-y."

"'Captain-y.' Good way of putting it."

You're ready to turn away when he asks, "I hate to pry, but I admit I'm curious how you ended up here with him."

You force a smile. "It's not a very interesting story, sorry."

"I'm not looking for entertainment."

"What are you looking for, then?" You sound more defensive than you mean to.

He shrugs. "Just curious, is all. You're a bit young."

"I'm not fucking him if that's what you're getting at." His brows lift to his hairline, and you're almost embarrassed for assuming that is what he was thinking, but before he can speak you add, "And you're young, too. I can handle myself just as you can."

"Of course." He shakes his head, moving his hand over his chest in earnest. "I apologize if I insinuated otherwise. Though, I am older than you."

"How old?"

"Let's see. Thirty-one last November. Or maybe it's just thirty. Hard to keep track, innit?" His smile is more genuine than yours, flashing white teeth. Then, his face turns more serious and he sighs through his nose, head tilting. "Look, I understand."

"Understand what?"

"I don't know your story, but I'm sure it is a gruesome one, and you have every right to feel uncomfortable. We'll be out of your hair soon enough. I appreciate you having us, though."

You want to tell him it's not like you have a choice; you're not the host here. But he already knows that. He's trying to be nice. "Thank you," you tell him honestly.

Kyle bends to pick up his knife, wiping it off on his shirt. "So what did you need Ghost for?"

"Oh, nothing really."

"Care to accompany me for some breakfast, then?"

You consider saying no, but you need to hunt, anyway. Besides, you don't think he'd try anything in broad daylight. In another life, you may have looked at him with a more appreciative eye. But as you wade in silence through the woods, bow cinched to your back, you study him like an opponent. He's more agile than Ghost, likely quicker. When he crests the hill, it's hard to match his strides.

Small conversation picks up by the pond and you find yourself easing up. You learn he's from London, too.

"What part?"

"Islington. I shared an apartment with my girlfriend. The rent was shit but it was worth it. Top floor loft with a good view and this insane Turkish bakery just below us." His tone is so casual you forget where you are for a second, until he suddenly throws his knife. It pins a squirrel to one of the trees. He bends to dislodge it and carries the dead animal, blood on his fingers.

You keep walking. "What happened to her?"

"I had to make a choice. Go to London and find her, or go with Price and get my nephew, niece, and sister-in-law."

The understanding hits with the force of a fallen tree, and you pale.

He notices your expression and continues. "I don't regret my decision. I've come to terms with it. There was no chance of me finding her in London, not with how quickly the infection spread there and the phone lines went out. I didn't even know where to look for her. At work? Home? Up north, things weren't as bad yet. I got in contact with my sister-in-law, Amelia, and told her to meet us at the small college up there where Nereida worked."

You recall what Nereida said, about Ari's mom and sister dying, so you don't pry about them. "What about your brother? Ari's dad?"

"He died before shit happened. He was in the military, too. Different unit. Multiple gun wounds while in Afghanistan a few years back."

"I think your story is more gruesome than mine," you admit.

His lips twitch ruefully. "Not a competition. Gruesome world, gruesome stories."

A more comfortable quiet settles. He is not so different than you, you realize. Only difference is he still has his nephew to look after.

The sun is already high, enough to make a collar of sweat appear on your shirt. There is a small dirt ridge you have to climb and the effort reminds you of the still-healing bruises on your body. A skirt of movement catches your eye and this time, you act quick. You use your bow to kill a squirrel up on a branch. It falls to the ground.

"Damn." Kyle whistles, low and long, as you wriggle the arrow free. "Hell of an aim you got."

"I'm... alright."

"No need to be modest."

You straighten and wipe your bloodied hand on your shirt. The movement lifts it, and you hear him suck in a breath behind you. A hand touches your shoulder, gentle than firm, as he spins you around. You're confused, then follow his gaze to the sliver of exposed skin on your hip. It's a gross yellow.

"Twix." His voice lowers, and his friendly eyes are confused.

Shit. "It's not whatever you're thinking."

"I'm thinking someone has put their hands on you." He frowns and shifts closer. "I know you have no reason to tell me things, but I can tell you I am not okay with that shit, no matter who it is."

You inwardly cringe. "Ghost is not... hitting me. Well, he is—"

"Fucking hell—"

"No, no. I asked him to." The bewildered look on his face makes you palm your forehead. "Not like that. Jesus. We train together, okay?"

"Train together," he repeats, shoulders loosening.

"Yeah, like to help me get stronger." The embarrassment remains on your cheeks. "It's silly, really."

Kyle shakes his head and grins, clearly amused now that he knows you're not being abused against your will. "Not silly. Thought you two were into some kinky shit for a second there." He continues walking over a patch of dryer land, stepping onto a small rock and chuffing a breath under his nose. "Wouldn't have been surprised."

Your fingers absentmindedly tighten around the squirrel's limp neck. Your feet are frozen for a moment as you shake off a deep blush, then call out behind him. "Did you miss the part where I said I'm not fucking him!"

He simply laughs.

---

The rest of the day passes in languid warmth.

It's weird having so many people here, but you try to continue your day like usual, skinning the kill and washing your clothes. You learn more about Nereida as you eat together. You haven't had a female friend in... a long time. Save Blue. She used to be an arts professor at a private school. Sculpting, mainly. That is how she came to meet John Price, when he attended one of her galleries, buying a piece from her for far more than the listing price. He was just looking for a way to take me out to dinner. The way she speaks of him is that of a doting wife, despite everything they've been through. She tells you they were engaged before the infection. A makeshift ceremony at their old camp was the best they could do.

"No wedding ring, but we do both have this." She pulls up her sleeve to show you a small scar carved on her shoulder—a faint letter 'J'. Price has the 'N'.

You're not sure what Ghost needed to fix on his truck that morning, or why it was important to do it with Price, but when you returned with Kyle, something felt off. Ghost's tension was palpable. He usually seems in thought, but even more-so. When Ari takes Blue for a quick ride on the horse—apparently Cherry used to be owned by his parents on their family ranch in Newcastle—he watches for only a minute before disappearing somewhere with Price. You pretend to need something from the cabin. You sneak around the back way, finding them again by his truck, muttering in low voices. Only pieces reach your ears.

"...through the rural parts. Not a straight path..."

"...could take months..."

"Got quite a bit of those."

Then, he's showing Price something under the tuck bed's tarp where you catch sight of that kayak once again.

"Find it?"

A low voice in your ear. You startle and turn around.

"Huh?"

Kyle raises a brow. "You said you needed something."

Your hand flattens against the side of the cabin. "Right. Um, I just—"

Boots scuffle behind you. You don't need to turn to know Ghost and Price have detected your presence, making their way over. Kyle's gaze flicks to them and you feel like a child who's been caught by her parents—embarrassment laced over your irritation. You wouldn't have been eavesdropping if they weren't so secretive.

"Everything alright?" Price's timbre is calm. Your neck prickles where you feel Ghost's stare.

You find yourself nodding. "Yes. Just fine. Sorry."

It gets cooler by nightfall. Your knee bounces slightly under the table during dinner. You listen to Blue explain the rules of battleship to Ari. You don't eat much more of the meat you caught with Kyle. With a mostly empty stomach, you enter Ghost's room after everyone else has gone to bed. His broad form hovers over his dresser. For a moment, you fear he's somehow noticed that you looked at his things earlier. But then you realize his eyes are glued to the map, and he's penciling some things on the margins.

He looks up when you close the door behind you. His brows are deeply knotted.

"Figured you would be sleeping out there for tonight."

"What?"

"Seems like you feel just fine around them now."

He looks away from you as if you're not even there. He places the map down and opens the top drawer. Without warning, he pulls out a clean shirt and changes, revealing his bare chest. His shoulders flex as he slips it over his head by the collar. Then, he moves toward you, eyes dully expectant.

"Being asleep near them is different than hanging out during the day," you finally respond. Mouth feeling dry, you swallow. "What's going on? I can tell that you... you've been thinking about something."

"You mean you've been listening." His brow lifts. He shakes his head before you can defend yourself. "I am always thinking about something."

"Would it kill you to not be cryptic for once? I thought that we were..."

"That we were what?"

"Being honest with each other now."

A dark, slightly amused breath leaves his nose. He contemplates your words for a moment. "It is my plan to go there," he then says. "I'm not stupid. I know she needs more than what I can offer her here. It has always been my plan. Just not now."

"Because she's not ready," you breathe.

"Because she's not ready," he repeats, chin tilting. His eyes darken, veering to the left. "Price seems to disagree."

Your nails curl in your palms. "And?"

He looks back at you. "And I am thinking of your camp. What happened to you. I can't grow complacent."

The mention unsettles your stomach. Of course, he needn't elaborate, not when the memory is more fresh than you'd like. "But going to Switzerland would take days, weeks. And they have no idea what they might run into out there. It's not like we have inside info on the state of France and—and wherever the hell else we'd have to cross through to get there. They could be worse than London."

"I'm aware."

"So what, then? You're considering it now? I thought you told them no," your hushed voice edges a bit harsher, and the pulse in your neck quickens.

You hate what you think he's saying, even if you understand it. He has his daughter's future to think of. Even if he were to try finding some safe community when she's older, the opportunity of traveling with two other military-experienced men would be gone, along with whatever weapons and supplies they bring to the table.

The contemplation is vivid in his eyes as you study them. Ghost's head lowers, dipping down at the same time that he emits a harsh breath, and you realize how close the two of you have become in this quiet exchange, keeping your voices safe from any awakened ears. So close, in fact, that his exhalation hits the space between your neck and collarbones, where a small patch of skin tingles with alertness.

His voice emerges low and thoughtful after a drawn moment. "I haven't fully decided."

You nod with deep breath to steady yourself, taking in his answer. "Will you tell me when you do?"

"I can do that."

And that's all he offers—four words that give a minuscule amount of comfort, because now bitter uncertainty has snuck upon you once again. Your fate lays in his decision. You can't survive on your own, not even here, so if he leaves you have to go with him. The impending doom fogs your brain. You fail to notice his hand has moved, pinching the hem of your shirt between thumb and forefinger, and beginning to carefully lift it up. A breath hitches at the top of your throat and your eyes unfurl, only to find that he is pensively looking down at your exposed stomach.

"What the fuck are you—"

You're cut off when his bent knuckles gently brush over your mottled abdomen, sweeping down the sore midline, leaving you frozen. It's a thoughtful, slow touch—calloused skin against smooth softness. His thumb traces a particularly bad one by your hip, causing your muscles to flutter as a pleasant heat blossoms. For the second time today, your bruises are under scrutiny, and you curse yourself for not applying more of that paste on them.

"They're healing well," he murmurs, more to himself than to you, and lowers the shirt back down. He steps back. Eyes find yours. "Don't get too comfortable."

You blink dazedly, then stiffen. "Um, what?"

"Sleeping in my bed. My room isn't a hotel."

The change of topic gives you whiplash. "You're the one who made me sleep here," you remind him pointedly. "I'll just take the floor tonight, and you have the bed."

"You're a woman. Take it."

"As if you give a fuck about being a gentleman."

"You're right, I don't." A dismissive shoulder shrugs, then his back turns to you. He lays in the bed before you have the chance to even move, which leaves the blanket on the floor for you.

You should've just accepted the bed.

Once the room is shrouded in darkness, you bury your head in the pillow.

"Comfortable?" he says sarcastically above you.

"Fuck off."

Then it's silent. You don't sleep nearly as well.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #cod #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #zombie apocolypse au

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monstersflashlight · 18 hours ago

Text

Commission for @silverslutsposts

Request: Sooo I'm thinking possessive demon.. submissive fem reader.... but the demon is confused why he feels these unknown emotions for reader (love obvi 🤪) the smuttier the better imo Maybe he tries to do some hate fucking with reader to rid himself of the odd fluffy feelings? But it doesn't work 🤭🫠 I'd like to think reader is a plump, thicccc thing with a love for Monster romances

A/N: Hi there! This turned out to be a lot more love-love than hate-love for some reason, hope you like it, tho!

Bring it

Demon x chubby fem!reader || dom/sub, dirty talk, praise kink, tail play, impact play (light)

You starting hanging out with demons was almost a surprise.

You worked at the monster bar as a bartender, so it made sense you started to know some of the clientele that was there every other day. Some of them were really friendly, and some of them were jackasses. Especially the demons.

The demons were usually stupid as fuck to everyone… everyone but you. You didn’t know why, but the demons treated you so nicely you became their waitress even thought it wasn’t your job. But none of the other’s would take their orders because they were mean, and after watching the third person crying because of it, you had enough. You marched to their table and called them out, which made them laugh, but somehow, you became their favorite human.

Later, you would discover it was because of the leader, the big red demon that always stared at you across the bar as you talked with everyone. His eyes never left you as you moved around, and it felt nice… You felt seen and desired in a way that should have been creepy, but it wasn’t. So little by little you became friends with them, and developed some kind of tension with the big red leader that had you pressing your thighs together more than once. He was hot as hell (pun intended) and you were a bit thirsty for demon cock. But who could blame you? But apparently he didn’t feel the same. (Or so you thought.)

The bar is closing and you are cleaning the tables absently as he talks about something. Everyone already left, but he insisted on hanging around to accompany you home, which you find as charming as his smile full of pointy teeth.

You turn around to look at him, nodding along and laughing at him when you see his scrunched up nose and the look of disgust when you pick up a half eaten sandwich. He stares at your mouth, and then he quiets down and glares, not saying anything.

You stop laughing, worried you offended him in some way. “What?” You ask, confused by the sudden tension in the air.

“Why do I feel like this?” He asks you, rubbing his chest as if it’s your fault he has some kind of ache.

You are even more confused after his response. “Like what?”

“Like my insides are going to be ripped apart if I don’t get closer to you soon,” he explains, making your heart skip a beat. You know he realizes it skips a beat, because his eyes fixate on your chest when he keeps talking: “Like every breath I take is thanks to you. Like every twitch of my body is a response of you being alive,” his words make your heart beat skyrocket. There’s no way he means what you think he means. But then he breaks the bubble of blooming happiness. “It’s infuriating, I need to get it out of my system. Now.”

“Wha- what does that mean?” You question as he approaches you fast, like you are his prey about to be devoured. You can feel your pussy tingling with that idea.

You walk backwards as he takes step after step getting closer to you. When the back of your thighs hits the edge of a table, you know you can’t run anymore. His eyes are burning with something unknown and you can feel your juices soaking through your panties.

You round the table, getting away from him just in time. “Come here,” he orders, an edge of danger in his voice. You shake your head, playing with him. “Come here little morsel, you wouldn’t like what would happen if I have to go to you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” you tell him trusting totally on your words. He would never.

And you are enjoying way too much driving him a little bit insane, giving him one taste of the way you’ve felt since you started to know him, since you realized he might be a demon but he was the best monster you’ve ever known. You aren’t ready to use the L word, but maybe… maybe you already felt it.

He sighs, and agrees. “I wouldn’t. But pain is not the only way to make you submit to me,” he teases. You whine low in your throat, making him stop in his tracks as he stares at you like you just grew a second head.

“Bring it.” You smirk at him, your brain going a thousand miles per minute was your brain pictures all the monster romance stories you’ve read over the years. You are so ready to be devoured by a demon… so, so ready.

Suddenly, he’s moving faster than your eyes can process. He grabs you by the hair, your neck pulled back almost uncomfortably as he launches to suck a mark on your neck. You squirm against him, your hands grabbing his hair with equal force as you whimper. He’s biting and licking the soft spot under your ear that makes you see stars and your knees start to feel like jelly. Fuck. He drives you crazy.

“Are you going to be good for me, honey?” He whispers against your ear, his tail wrapping around your middle and making you shiver. His hands are everywhere, your body is pliant under his traveling fingers as you whine at him, unable to form words to answer. “Of course you are, you are so good to me,” he purrs and you blush. You don’t know why, but hearing his praises is doing it for you big time.

He grabs your ass with both hands and sits you over a table, squeezing your soft hips as he does so. He’s groping you everywhere he can and it’s driving you slowly insane. You’ve never felt arousal like that, it’s like burning inside of you and you know he’s the only one who can put out that fire.

“I need you, please,” you beg.

“You beg so beautifully, such a good human for me.” His words are making your head fuzzy, the desire so high you can only think about his dick inside of you. ASAP.

He rips your clothes off your body, leaving you naked in the middle of the bar. That shouldn’t make you as hot as it does, but you are desperate for him. His hands are frantically touching every centimeter exposed until you are screaming his name and begging for him to keep going, to touch you where you want him most, but he does nothing like that.

He opens your legs wide and stares at your pussy. You try to close your legs, embarrassed, but he only chuckles, his tail coming around him and landing a slap against your open center. You scream his name again, this time full of fire and pent up sexual frustration. He laughs and does it again. And again. And again. You’ve never been so turned on.

“Are you going to take my tail like a good human fleshlight?” You whine. “Is that a yes, my little morsel?” He teases and you groan, unable to form words. “I will let you act like this just once because it’s our first time. But next time I’ll make you say it out loud, are we clear?” You nod vehemently, making grabby hands at him and making him laugh.

You feel the tip of his pointy tail at the same time you feel a gush of juices coming out of you. You are almost embarrassed of the sounds your pussy makes when he starts to enter you slowly. You are so wet you can feel it traveling down your ass, forming a pool under you as he fucks you shallowly. His tail is entering you enough to touch your G-spot but not enough to stimulate it. You don’t know who you are anymore, you can only focus on that pointy appendage playing with your aching core.

“Please, please, please…” You chant as he chuckles, his face buried in your neck as he kisses your throat softly.

“What do you need? Do you want my cock?” You nod, grabbing his hair and pulling him back so he’s looking at your eyes. His pupils are blown wide and he’s mirroring your desperation. “Okay, I’ve tortured you enough… for now.”

The last words send a shiver running down your spine and you moan his name softly, making him smile at you openly, his fangs on full display. He’s so fucking handsome you can’t control yourself from moving your hips and fucking you against his tail still in you. He pulls back his tail and you cry out, begging over and over for more, and he gives it to you.

You feel the tip of his cock against your entrance, your pussy quivering at the first intrusion. He’s so big and wide you can barely fit him inside, but when he passes the first tight muscle you both groan in unison. You wrap your legs around his middle and press your heels on his ass, urging him to go deeper, faster, harder. And he complies, his whole body surrendering to the pleasure as he tells you how tight you are, how warm and wet and perfect.

It’s exhilarating to have a demon so desperate for you that he can’t stop telling you how good you are, and it’s driving you completely insane. And when your orgasm hits and you start convulsing against him, he growls and fucks you harder. The frantic pace drives you higher and higher, a train of orgasms hitting your body until you are exhausted and can’t hold your legs or arms around him anymore. But he keeps going, fucking you like a flashlight.

By the time he comes inside of you and his hot seed fills your insides, you are nothing more but a limp body against him, his hands around you as he thrusts a couple more times and a big smile on your lips. You’ve never felt so satisfied in your life, and you have enough energy to tell him that. He chuckles.

And then you pass out.

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xetlynn · 3 days ago

Note

Can I ask for claggor x a piltover reader? She was raised in piltover and is very smart but was never ignorant to the condition of zaun and always tried her best to advocate and help the suffering people. I can imagine she would have a strong sense of guilt for loving claggor because she doesn't really understand the struggles he went through but will always try to help. <33 thank youuuu

Of course, I think I made this a little more dramatic than I meant to😭 but I hope this is good!

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

Mysterious

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: In which reader is from Piltover and makes a friend in Zaun. Feeling guilty for liking him since she doesn't understand his struggles.

My feet achingly moved seemingly before me. My back hurt as I carried a box full of stuff from Piltover to give to a friend in the undercity.

When I was younger I was so fascinated by the people of Zaun. About the difficulties they’ve been through. My mother was always bitter about them. Going on tangents about how the people from the undercity should be more grateful since everything is better now. And whenever she does that I have to remind her of their struggles to get to this wonderful position they’ve been creating for themselves. Supporting them only pisses her off further than before. She asks what about Piltover’s struggles which is never the point of my argument.

We’re privileged enough to never know what it’s like going without food, running water and a roof being over our heads. Most of Zaun could or still to this day can not say the same. It’s something I’ve written about in school essays, joining groups to learn more about the undercity.

As a younger teen I snuck into Zaun, wanting to understand them better, know them rather than read about their history. Hear it from the people themselves. I won’t truly ever know their struggles but I still wish to help them. Advocate for their history and their growth as a community. Help them be one with Piltover eventually without there being discourse of if they deserve it.

Everyone deserves happiness, love, and a life without ridiculous danger. They deserve peace as much as the next person.

I was reckless when going to Zaun. Sneaking out of my house as a teen and somehow to the undercity without being caught will forever blow my mind. The reason I kept doing it though was after I sat down in this bar. It’s called The Last Drop. I just needed a place to rest after walking for miles.

Talking with the people there. Not really a scene a young teenager should be in but I didn’t care. I just wanted to listen to their stories. And they always enjoyed having me around. Seeing me as a niece of some sort. Hearing the first one made me want to hear more. Hence why I kept coming back. And more recently there's a new reason.

I met a new friend. His name I still don’t know. He never properly introduced himself to me. Not by his birth given name but by the first letter. He wanted me to guess.

It’s been 3 months and he has yet to tell me what it is. Or in his words I didn't guess good enough.

I guess his father was the owner, Vander is his name. I’ve met him a few times but I never sat up at the actual bar. Just in a corner keeping to myself before I went to adventure out into Zaun after hearing random stories.

When I met C he had started working more hours at the bar to help out since it was getting busier and busier after some time with people from the Uppercity decided the place was a hit. I guess he worked earlier shifts so that’s why we never crossed paths when I first started going there.

C and I hit it off slowly in the beginning.

It was a rough start since we both had different upcomings. I didn’t know what it was like to have to get my hands dirty and work for things I want or need. I’ve always just… had it.

Talking about C’s childhood and things he went through as I had nothing bad to say except for the fact that my mother is a witch of a woman. It made me realize how weird I am for being so interested in others' lives. It made me realize I don’t have a life of my own. I want to fix people who don’t need to be fixed. They’re perfect the way they are, no matter what they went through. They don’t need me to stick up for them. I also figured out that I’m falling for a friend, who again… I don’t know the name of and we will never share a similar story. He deserves someone who understands the same livelihood he knows. Someone who can appreciate things more than I ever could.

“[Name]!” A voice shouts, shaking me from my thoughts. “C!” I grin, shimmying the box in my hands. “Is this everything?” He takes it from me with furrowed eyebrows, looking it over. “Mhm, every single thing you asked for.” I place my hands on the back of my hips, stretching to crack my back. Letting out a small sigh of relief afterwards.

“You alright?” He asks with a chuckle, leading me into his apartment that he and his brother share. “Yeah, I definitely got my exercise in for the day.” I half-heartedly joke, shutting the door behind us and he places the box down on the counter. “What is the food for, exactly?”

When he first requested the stuff from me, he told me it was for an experiment. Not really saying much after that. A few foods and then things you can really only get in Topside.

“To eat.” He grabs an apple and bites into it. My shoulders fall, not expecting that answer. For some reason I thought it was going to be something cooler. “Oh.” I let out a breathy laugh. “I was hungry when I was putting in that request.” He rubs his stomach sadly.

I shake my head with a smile. “It’s okay. So can I know what this project is now?” I hop up on the barstool in his kitchen. “It’s a secret.” He says briefly, putting the food away in his counters. I frown. “Dang, keeping another thing from me, C?” I tilt my head.

“Gotta keep you on your toes, by being a mysterious, interesting man. Don’t want you getting sick of me.” He quipped, now giving me his full attention after placing the box on the ground. I glanced down at it then back to him. “I’ll always find you interesting. Maybe even more if you just tell me your name.” I pout.

Have I mentioned that I don’t know his name? No? Yeah, don’t know it.

“Soon.” He reaches over and messes up my hair. I smack his hand away. Attempting to fix what he did. “I hope so.” I cross my arms.

“I wish you could guess it. You didn’t even try hard enough.” He exclaims, my jaw drops at his words. “I can’t think of anything else! It has to be some sort of crazy unique name!” I utter, throwing my hands in the air. He lets out a belly laugh, “It’s not super unique.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes, jokingly annoyed. “I told you my name.” I murmur. “That’s because you’re not mysterious like me.” He purses out his lips, doing a little peace sign. “I know almost everything else about you. You are not mysterious.” I point a finger at his chest. “Really? What’s my favorite color?”

“You tell people it’s blue but it’s actually yellow. Like dandelion yellow.” I raise my brows, making a face that expresses that he should try me. “Okay, pssh, lucky guess. Favorite food?”

“Halibut, but only when it’s fried because you’re weird.” I tease, his eyes seem to widen at my words. “See, not so mysterious, huh?” I cross my arms. “Two things. That’s all you answered.” He walks away over to the living room. Plopping down on the couch. I stand up, rushing over to him. Bouncing on the cushion beside him. My hands holding his shoulder as I shake him. “Then ask more questions. I have the answers~” I sang out, leaning back.

“Fine, how old am I?” He raises a brow. I put a finger on my chin, pretending like I was thinking. “21.” I simply say. “Okay, I never told you that. How’d you get that?” He scrunches his nose in confusement. I laugh. “Honestly I truly guessed that time. I’m 21 and I always figured we were the same age.” I snicker.

“Wow, okay. Next question, how many siblings do I have?” I think back to conversations we’ve had or the time I bumped into his brother Mylo. He always talks about a girl named Powder. I want to say there’s one more though. I just can’t remember…

“... three?” I estimate. “Or two.” I perk up my posture. “Hm, it’s three. You really do listen.” He hums out. “Yeah, it’s Mylo, Powder and I’m sorry but I don’t think I ever got the last one’s name.” I press my lips together, trying to rack it in my head. “Violet. She passed away when we were younger.” He sighs, I look at him through my eyelashes not wanting to make full eye contact as my heart drops..

“I’m sorry.” I whisper. “It’s alright, [Name]. You didn’t know.” He gives me a smile. It goes silent between the both of us. “Um… can I ask how? If not I totally understand. I don’t want to push that topic.” I shake my hands at the thought of forcing him to say something he wasn’t comfortable with.

“We were doing a stupid thing in Piltover. Sneaking into someone’s house. Just trying to get a few things for our dad. Extra money in his pocket. Something exploded. The impact unfortunately killed Vi.” He seems spaced out as he tells the story. I reach out and grab his hand.

I remember when that incident happened. It was all anyone talked about for a while. An undercity child passes away in an explosion after breaking into a scientist’s home. My mom… was an ass about the situation.

“Any more questions?” I make an effort to switch the conversation so he doesn’t get upset due to my questioning of his sister's death like the dumb idiot that I am.

He looks down at my hand that was on top of his. “Claggor.” He suddenly says. I scrunch my eyebrows together. “Claggor?” I question, was that something I had to answer? “My name.” He mutters out.

My mouth goes into the shape of an 'o.' Claggor... An interesting name for an interesting man like him.

“Hm… cute. It fits you.” I squeeze his hand before letting go. I didn’t even notice the dusty rose color across his cheeks. He mutters out a small thanks before we continue the conversation of me knowing certain things about him.

The entire time I think back to his sister, my chest aching. They were only kids trying to help their father. Not knowing that one of them wasn’t going to make it back home. How devastating.

“You okay, [Name]?” He sits up, turning his body to face me. I fake a smile, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just thinking. Sorry.” How am I supposed to be his friend if I carry guilt that has nothing to do with me? How can I like him and not be able to understand him? It’s idiotic looking. It makes me look selfish, turning other people's problems into my own. “Thinking about?”

“Your name. How I never guessed it.” I force out a chuckle that sounds like a high pitched animal making me wince in embarrassment afterwards. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks me again.

“I’m fine, Claggor.” His name rolls off my tongue easily. Like it was meant to be said from my lips.

“I remembered I have somewhere I need to be. My mom will kill me if I’m late. See you later?” I ask him, blinking tears away as I abruptly get up. “Um, yeah. Tomorrow?” He gets up with me, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, I can’t. Family thing.” I lied. “Oh, maybe the next night? Mylo wants me to go to this party where his crush is djing. I do not want to go.” He laughs, walking me to his front door. My stomach flips, not knowing how to respond. “Maybe, I’ll let you know the day of.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Okay, okay. I don’t mean to cling. I just like spending time with you.” He smiles softly. I avoid eye contact. “Me too, Claggor.” I whisper before pulling him into an embrace.

He lets out a small yelp of surprise before his hands slowly snake around my waist. “You’re a good friend, [Name].” He mumbles into my shoulder. Tears begin to threaten my eyes once again. “You’re a better one.” I pat his back before letting go. “See you.” I curtly wave before leaving.

Man, I’m an idiot.

It’s the day of the party, I haven’t left my bed since I came home after leaving Claggor’s house. My head racing with a million thoughts about how selfish and ridiculous I am. Cringing at all the conversations I’ve had with my friends about the Undercity. How incredibly obnoxious it always sounded.

How strange I look just being this upset about everything. I wonder if Claggor thought the same about me. How strange it was that a girl was so wrapped up into his struggles. I would never want to tell him that either because I’m overthinking. I know I am.

He’s my friend. He would tell me if I was being over the top.

Right?

Right.

Stop it brain.

A knock at my door echoes in my room. “Yes?” I call out, not bothering to get up. The door creaks open. “[Name] there’s someone here to see you.” A house worker tells me. I sit up, tilting my head confused on who would be here. “Um, tell them I’ll be right down.” I say, climbing out of bed. “Yes, ma’am.”

I grab my robe from my vanity, throwing it on over my pajamas. I slip my feet into my house slippers. I look like a mess but I don't care. It’s probably just a school mate to ask about some homework we have.

I exit my room, heading down the stairs. I see Claggor and my body freezes in place. Staring down at him. Shit. I look like a mess! And that is not a school mate.

He was looking around my home before his eyes locked with mine. His face erupts into a smile. “Just wake up or something?” He teases and my face flushes in response. “Uh- yeah, slept in.” I awkwardly chuckle, walking towards him. “How’d you know my address?” I asked him. “Also, why are you here?”

“Well, first I bumped into one of your friends I met before. She told me you lived here. Second ouch, I can just leave if you want me to.” He points to the front door and I roll my eyes. “Sorry, sorry. I was just wondering, I was gonna come to you.” I cross my arms, and when I do his eyes flicker down to what I’m wearing.

Suddenly I’m extremely aware of how I look. My hair a mess, face puffy, and wearing a fancy robe with slippers. Weird combination.

“I felt like when you left yesterday it was a bit… off? You seemed like you were about to cry so I thought I’d come here and maybe talk to you about that.” He fidgets with his hands, I observe his demeanor. He seemed extremely anxious. “Oh, I told you I was fine. Might’ve had something in my eye.” I shrug lying straight out of my teeth.

“You know how I said you are not mysterious like me?” He asks. “Vaguely.” I smile but not understanding why he’s saying that. “It’s because you aren’t a mystery at all. Maybe I’m not either since you seem to know quite a bit about me. Anyways, not the point.” He lets out a heavy breath. “You don’t hide your emotions well. You’re an open book just by looking at you.” He chuckles and I tense up, feeling a little offended. He notices and sighs.

“What I mean is, when I first met you I knew you were a very empathetic person. Your emotions are what drives you to be who you are. I really enjoy that about you. I never thought someone could cry over a bug they killed until I met you.” He laughs at the memory of when we were hanging out one day at the bar and a bug was on the floor by my foot. I stomped on it and immediately felt bad. Thinking about the fact that it could’ve had a family.

“You care so deeply for people you’ve never met. Wanting them to succeed even if it means you are risking your own happiness to do so.” He says softer than all his other words. “I hope you know that you have never upset me by asking your questions.” His eyes find mine and I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. He read me like a book. He practically studied me. I don’t even know how to respond.

“I know that’s why you got upset. My sister passing away. I don’t mind that you asked. It happened as unfortunate as it is. You didn’t know and you wanted to. Because you care.” He places a hand on my shoulder. I look down at his arm then back to his face. “Please don’t feel bad for caring.”

My eyes begin to water and I pull him into a hug. “I don’t deserve your friendship.” I mumble into his chest. “I think you do.” He disagrees.

“I like you, Claggor.” I told him. “Like a lot. I care for you more than anyone else I’ve ever met. I’m scared that I can’t be what you need. I want to be. Everything and more.” I confess, pulling away from him. “Did you know that? Was I not hiding that emotion well either?” I try to uplift the mood.

“I didn’t have a clue actually.” He grins. “I like you as well. Like a lot. You are everything I need and more. I promise you that.” He pulls me back into his arms, looking down at me as I look up at him.

He closes the distance between us, his lips landing on mine. It was a short, soft kiss but it was something I never felt before. Shivers sent down my spine. I flutter my eyelids open, both of us smiling ear to ear like giddy little kids. Taking in the moment for a few seconds.

“Does that mean you’re going to join me at this party that I’m soooo excited about?” He sarcastically asks and I giggle in response. “I guess so. I definitely need to clean myself up first though.” I motion to my hot mess of a state that I’m in. “I think you look beautiful in this. Don’t even need to worry about changing.” He jokes and I lightly hit his arm.

“What a liar.” I fold my arms. “Hm, maybe a little. Want me to come back to pick you up?”

“You could hang out in my room while I get ready. Maybe choose my outfit?” I propose and his eyes light up. “Yeah, let’s go.” He happily responds.

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