#oftentimes short and sweet is better

[obae-me]

How He Kisses

Hey there, so things are...kinda awful right now, and while I don't want to fully distract myself from my other works I'm chipping away at, I did want to post something a bit short and sweet to hopefully- well, saying "to make everyone feel better" feels sort of self-inflated, but if I can make everyone stop and think about something happy for just one second, that's more than I can ask for. I have no idea how similar this is to my hug headcanon ones. Not really checked for too many errors, this was all kind of done in the spur of the moment, but I don't think that matters too much.

Lucifer

Proper and slow. He likes being patient, kissing you once before pulling back to look at your face. He feels a sense of Pride when he can see the effect he has on you, knowing that he can comfort you like this. He's a perfectionist, he likes the whole experience to be included. That's why he likes to do it more often when you two are alone, knowing he has the freedom to do whatever it takes to make this moment perfect. Whether it's music, a lit fireplace, over a dinner, under the comfort of a blanket, everything is set up for you. To show his love for you, nothing less than high quality will be accepted. The kiss is simply the bow that ties everything together. And he'll take his time to relish in this moment with you.

Mammon

Fervent and greedy. He cannot contain his love for you. Even around his brothers, he lets it slip. So when you find yourselves alone, it's like pulling the lid off a stuffed container. Your eyelids, your ears, your forehead, cheeks, chin, lips, none of them shall be spared in his spree. It's almost frantic, as if he doesn't get as many now, he'll never have them again. He craves all of you, and he wants to be only yours in equal measure. Love, soul, attention, all of it is for you. It's as if he has to make up the seconds lost whenever you're apart. He never wants it to end. He hardly breathes. Every one is just as good as the last, and he is focused on making it just as wonderful an experience for you as well. After all, he wants you to be greedy too. Tell him your every desire.

Levi

Eager and grateful. Push past the anxiousness and the self-doubt, and you find a Levi that adores you more than anything. Like an ultra rare drop he can't get anywhere else. If he can stand in line for days for something he wants, he will stand with you till the end of time. His kisses show that, how deeply in love he is for you. Given the chance, he has the confidence to prove to you how special you are to him. Every kiss gets him more excited than the last, and in turn, he's determined to do whatever it takes to make you feel just as joyous as he is in these moments. Thank you for being here with him, your presence means more to him than you currently know, and he'll spare no effort to start showing you that.

Satan

Meek and curious. Whether or not it is considered if he's kissed someone before, every time he kisses you, it feels like the first time. He almost always has a distant look on his face, as if he's thinking about a million other things at the same time, and every million of those thoughts is something about you. He learns something new every time and commits it to memory. Which way your head naturally tilts, where you prefer his hands to be, how many you like, how long they take, he's going to remember them all. Well, he says that, but oftentimes its as if his mind wipes after every kiss. It's hard to think during those moments. But he's not worried about it, that just means he'll have to keep going. He has no plans to leave your side anytime soon after all.

Asmo

Uplifting and addictive. He likes to kiss for every occasion, every emotion. Happy? Kiss. Excited? Kiss? Sad? He says he saves his best kisses for those moments especially. Maybe it's shared love that makes his kisses almost tingle, or maybe its some kind of magic. It makes you feel light. And he'll give you as many as you want. He adores kissing you, not able to get enough of it. It's as though he's almost on clockwork, having to give you an embrace at perfect intervals throughout the day. He can't get enough of you, and he can't help but get giddy at the thought of running to your side and letting you know exactly just how much he loves you.

Beel

Warm and encompassing. Gluttony often gets mixed up with Greed, but this is one of those instances where the differences are clear. Every kiss is slow, and feels as if it lasts several lifetimes. It's as if he's drinking you in, savoring this moment in it's entirety. Of course he'll come in for seconds, and thirds, and fourths, but it comes steadily. Something about his kisses fills you with a warmth that's hard to describe, similar to soup or a hot beverage seeping through every part of your body to endure the coldest of days. It makes your toes curl like they're in warm socks. It makes you feel as if nothing can get to you. And with him around, nothing will.

Belphie

Soft and persistent. No amount of drowsiness can stop him. Even if he's asleep, the demon that will normally sleep like the dead will wake himself up and make sure to give you a kiss. They're so gentle, and it's difficult to tell if its tied to his personality, or if he's afraid of hurting you. Sometimes they're as light as a feather, almost tickling you. If you're falling asleep, they'll never wake you, only guiding you towards sweeter dreams. With every movement you make, you'll almost recognize the sensation of his kisses. They're like a promise, an assurance, that even in the deepest darkest of dreams, he's right there. They always lull you into a sense of peace.

[sammyluvr]

✶ . ၄၃ . like a miracle — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, poor editing, mentions of sam's trauma from the cage and becky, mentions of guilt, talk of marriage and weddings, implied sex from the night before, 1.1K words. requested !

summary : oddly enough, after sam's awful run-in with becky and their short lived marriage, sam realizes that he wants something like that with you, only real and safe.

oftentimes, sam feels that wherever he goes, his bodily autonomy will not be honored. unfortunately, oftentimes, this is true. he remembers being in the cage with lucifer. it is indescribably horrible. and most recently, he was forced into a marriage with becky. he doesn’t remember it all, but the thought of it makes him feel a bit nauseous and he can’t help but suspect what she did to him.

only with you can he forget how dirty he feels sometimes. not all the time, especially not these days. but he misses you, even though you’re right there. last night, being with you between these white sheets felt better than good. a momentary reprieve in the darkness and horror of it all. this morning, as he wakes, the sun coming in through the motel room blinds is not so bright that it hurts his eyes, but the perfect light to illuminate the bridge of your nose and highlight your silhouette under these sheets, their softness a pleasant surprise. last night got quite hot; the blanket must’ve fallen to the floor.

it’s a miracle that he still feels at peace as he wakes up. that your skin on his still feels sweet and warm and comfortable. all this is such a rarity recently. but he’s safe with you, and he knows it. he loves you, and he knows that even better. he adores to have you in his arms, this he knows well, too.

part of him is incessantly guilty. maybe most of him. it’s easier at this point to believe that all of the awfulness that his life is, is deserved. how could all this have happened if it wasn’t? how could god be so cruel? later, he’ll find out that god just is that cruel. worse than he could imagine.

all that guilt and self-deprecation, and sam lets himself have you. sometimes he does think he doesn’t deserve you. but you smile at him and it’s everything real and right and bright in the world. you smile at him because of him, and that must mean he’s doing something good. you love him and he’s the best person he’s ever met, so maybe he’s not as bad as he thinks he is. you love him and he actually believes it. and you love him in such a pure way, he thinks that it makes him better.

so what if, amongst the horror of it all, he could have something more with you? this is enough for him, it really is. but don’t you deserve more if that’s what you want? he could give you more, and you deserve everything in the world.

one would think the prospect of marriage would be a frightening one to sam, now. but frankly, he’s been through so much worse than becky. somehow, the idea is stuck in his head. it’s something he gave up on after jess died. damn, back then, it was everything he wanted. those first years, he agonized over it. cried about it, raged about it. he still thinks about jess. he still thinks about the ring he bought her. he lost it in the fire.

but seeing you, framed in these simple white sheets has him thinking. it has him wanting, somehow hoping. he doesn’t feel hope very much, though he’s always fought to be the optimistic one. he needs to see you in white, in the sun, at an altar. he’s always liked the way you look in white. every time you’re in your fbi get up, the jacket comes off and it’s just that plain white button up you’ve had for years… god, he loves it. god, he loves you. 

you wake to him staring. your eyes drift open, squinting a bit from the morning light until they adjust, and when they do, he’s looking right into your eyes already. a soft smile graces your lips. he looks incredibly fond of you.

“hi, love,” you murmur, voice hoarse with sleep. he brushes a hand over the side of your head, the feel of his fingertips and the look in his eyes are overwhelmingly affectionate.

“hi, honey,” he smiles back. he closes the small space, giving your lips a chaste kiss, then your cheek and your forehead. “i love you.”

“i love you, too,” you say easily. he’s at ease and it makes your heart swell. it’s not often that he gets to be at ease. 

“have you ever been to a wedding?” he asks out of the blue. a tiny look of confusion flashes across your features, but the question makes your heart skip a beat.

“a few, when i was a kid,” you answer, voice hushed. you thought weddings and marriage would be a subject that he’d like to avoid for a long while after becky. it’s been months, but you’ve still been careful, and you planned to be for as long as it seemed fit.

“did you like them?” he murmurs. you raise a brow softly. your hand rubs up and down the skin of his waist.

you give him a little shrug and your hand drifts from his side to rub at your tired eyes, then back to his scarred skin. “i guess. there was food and dancing, that part was always fun. but weddings, i’m sure, are very different for kids than they are for adults. are you asking if i think i’d like a wedding now?”

he’s been caught, but he supposes that’s what he was trying to do. “yeah,” he confirms in a whisper, hoping desperately that you’re not turned off or scared by the idea.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly. his thumb brushes over your cheek. “depends on whose wedding, i guess. the idea of marriage is a little scary. but if it’s something you want to talk about, then… i wouldn’t be scared to do that.”

“no? you’d be alright with that?” he wants to be sure you’re not just saying that for his benefit, but his heart is already soaring. he understands why you think the idea of it is scary. he’s worried about it too, but a lot less when he remembers it would be with you.

“yeah,” you agree gently, that little smile still on your lips and tugging at his ability to hold back from kissing you. sam loves to kiss you when you’re smiling. “i’d be okay with that.”

“thanks,” he says softly, no longer finding it necessary to resist kissing you. his lips find yours again, then your jaw and your neck. his fingertips dance over your cheek and forehead and then wrap around your own free hand. his lips brush over the skin of your neck as he speaks, “i just think you look really good in white.”

he knows it's premature—there’s still a lot to talk about—but he’s got this aching urge to look for a ring. he wonders if there are any nice jewelers in this town. he’ll have to spend a long night hustling pool to afford anything decent, but he’s willing. god, he feels crazy for wanting to look for a ring. but he doesn't feel guilty for it. he doesn’t feel guilty for loving you, and like a miracle, he doesn’t think he ever will.

[abysstrap-ran]

❖ Piltover Winters (Jayce/Viktor Headcanons)

A/N: I realize I always come back to writing around xmas. Erm, anyway. Have you guys seen Savior Viktor??? Delicious. *I don’t actually know if it snows in PnZ but it’s December so let’s live a little.

❖ Viktor

If you're cold, chances are he's freezing too because of how cold he usually runs.

Will forget his scarf. Sometimes, in his work-induced haze, he also forgets that he's not dressed for the weather and walks out of the lab only to get blasted in the face by the sheer COLD, grumbling and sniffling as he retreats back inside. Hence, he appreciates the heater and the fireplace in his academy-funded apartment very much.

While he might not be the biggest fan of the winter chill, he’s amazed by snow since it never reaches the part of the Undercity where he grew up.

Give Viktor a cup of hot chocolate, and his eyes will light up. He won’t admit it, and very few know about it, but much like his love for sweetmilk, he is very much a fan of hot chocolate. However, he doesn’t opt for it too often because its sweetness will irritate his throat, so he takes it every once in a while. He’ll be in a good mood the whole day if he does get a cup, something that Jayce capitalizes on if only to see him smile.

This man can not get up in the mornings, preferring to burrow deeper into the blankets or closer to a heat source where it's warm and toasty. You’ll have to drag him out or coax him out with a cup of hot beverage.

His body does him no favors in this department. The ever-bearing cold makes his joints ache worse, so it’s safe to say that his leg does not like him very much.

Once he gets the back brace, the screws permanently etched onto his spine will hurt, especially in the deep of winter. He’s gotten used to it to a degree, but sometimes it renders him somewhat immobile. It is also hard to navigate through snow with a crutch. This is why you’ll almost never find him outside during the winter months, though that hasn’t changed much from the past. Even if he has to go outside for some godforsaken reason, he’ll make them short and snappy trips at best, or send Jayce, who would be more than happy to do so, in his place.

❖ Jayce

Snow is not his forte, considering how he nearly died in a blizzard as a child. But, it has grown on him slowly over time. Though, you won’t find him outside when the snowfall turns heavy.

He may not show it, but he loves the seasonal festivities. He fondly remembers hitting the attractions and festivals with Caitlyn back when they were both younger, and would sometimes do the same again, if only for the nostalgic factor.

The man of progress might be busy, but Jayce the present-giver works doubly hard. You may barely see him out of his lab, but he’ll make the time, sometimes out of thin air, to get everyone presents.

Coat? What is a coat? This guy’s a furnace, he’s fine (not really) but he will claim he’s fine if you ask. Will happily let anyone he's close to cling to him for his warmth, or laugh and give them his scarf so now they're like a two-scarf coat rack. Paints a rather funny picture to be bundled up in an abundance of scarves.

Probably has to participate in a lot of winter social events due to the council. Dutiful as he is, Jayce will attend those societal gatherings, but you bet he'd whine the next person's ear off by the time he's dragged to his mandatory 3rd dinner/gala or something similar along those lines. Sometimes, if he gets bored, he sneaks back to the lab when no one's noticing… until Heimerdinger pops up when he least expects it. “There's a time and place for innovation, my boy! But tonight's a night for the outdoors, don't you think?”

Will oftentimes be the first one up in the mornings because he knows he has a packed schedule and he'd better get up or else. When he doesn't get up due to it being a lazier day, he'll hog ALL the blankets, curling into a ball and going back for another snooze, much to your chagrin.

[honeydazai]

I need domestic Viktor and Jayce ( especially Jayce 😍)

₊˚⊹♡ domestic moments

feat.: Viktor, Jayce Talis

notes: A!! YES. this was so cute.. i love them....

Jayce likes to cook, and he's good at it, too — really, his mother would be disappointed if he wasn't. You can find him in your shared kitchen regularly, adding spices to your meal or flipping pancakes, humming absentmindedly to himself, and he's all too happy to let you taste-test the second you ask to. When you compliment him on his cooking, he beams.

He's clingy in the best way, constantly aching to spend time with you, even if it's just him laying his head on your lap while you read or do whatever else. He's just happy to be with you.

In the kitchen cupboards, there's varieties of pastries for the two of you to enjoy that he makes sure to keep stocked — at one point, he attempted to make the ones you two enjoyed on Progress Day, but the recipe was flawed and the bakers making the original ones were professionals, or so he defends the sad result.

Even though grocery shopping is usually but a chore that needs to be done, it doesn't feel that way when the two of you do it together, with him meticulously checking his grocery list every five minutes while you curiously check the aisles for snacks either of you would enjoy. He carries the bags back home, too; what are all his muscles for otherwise?

There's little he enjoys doing more than cuddling with you, curled up in bed, comfortable and safe. Despite his physique, he loves being the little spoon — it doesn't matter how short you may be compared to him, having your arms wrapped around him just makes him feel loved and at peace. Indulge him.

Viktor likes to read to you, his voice calm, soothing, accent warbling enticingly around the words. What by now has become a routine for slow evenings at home began in the first place because you asked him to, claiming to be able to focus better when it's him reading the text aloud. Surprisingly enough, he found himself enjoying it as well, chuckling softly at the way you gaze at him as if he hung the moon, completely entranced. It's awfully cute.

While he prefers not to cook, often reaching for a quick snack instead of wasting time on a proper meal, Viktor will gladly watch you cook. The sight leaves him with a warm feeling spreading through his chest, and he oftentimes he ends up behind you, arms around your waist and chin perched up on your shoulder, the tip of his nose against your neck.

With sweet milk in your fridge and chocolate chip cookies on your kitchen counter, you're well-equipped to spend cozy afternoons together. Since he runs cold, there's quite a few blankets piled up high on your sofa, and you're often huddled underneath them, sharing warmth. Viktor is quite fond of the idea of the two of you consuming media together, such as reading novels — though he will sulk if you ever continue without him. It's a terrible betrayal.

Even though he usually prefers to take quick showers, doing it to get clean rather than to enjoy and relax, he takes the occasional hot bath with you. With you so close to him, skin on skin, he's able to feel the tension bleed from his muscles, and there's something sweet about the vulnerability of washing each other's hair with scented shampoos.

₊˚⊹♡ my commissions are open! ♡ tag list!

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[sixosix]

can you do an aether x reader lil one shot please!!! my baby gets no love ;( I'm fine with any story or plot but maybe one where they've been travel buddies for a while and his feelings have just been bottled up over time and he just explodes in to a confession and then some cute fluff from there!!!!!!

a/n wc 1.6k there are tears in my eyes as i write this i love aether sonmuch. also sorry if this is all over the place i was trying so hard not to turn it into another 10k word fic…. ft. lyney

aether doesn’t vividly recall the moment his feelings blossomed. there was no pinpointed moment, only all of it growing restless inside him.

he likes to keep his team to four people maximum, oftentimes none at all—just him and paimon to worry about as they move from region to region, friends made yet no proper strings attached. it’s for everyone’s sake, as aether doesn’t plan on staying too long in one place. that’s how it should’ve been.

you appeared one day, demanding to take you in his team. just for liyue and then you can separate ways, you said.

“i’m visiting my awfully quiet lover to break his silence. i need to figure out why i’ve stopped receiving letters,” you explained, blinding him with your bigger-than-life personality.

and because aether is a weak, weak man to people who don’t know how to back down, he agreed, albeit hesitantly. “alright,” he said in defeat. ��just liyue?”

“just liyue,” you affirmed, beaming as he’s accepted you probably easier than you expected.

just liyue is a lie, and he should’ve known it the moment he had to confirm it. he didn’t bother with formal introductions and keeping conversations, knowing he wouldn’t see you again anyway. it didn’t help that paimon adores you, expressing her loud disappointment when you have to part ways with them.

paimon floated lower than usual. aether sighed. “should’ve known you’d grow to love someone who spoils you with sweet madame more than me.”

“hmph! y/n’s nicer to paimon than you!”

but he does see you again some time later, facing a large tree, kicking it out of frustration. it’s pouring heavily; your clothes are soaked.

“am i scary?” you asked when aether and paimon approached you, staring ahead, fists trembling.

“what’s wrong?! did something bad happen?” paimon fluttered around you nervously, unsure if she could touch you.

“he’s not dead, at least,” you said bitterly. “just too cowardly to tell me that he doesn’t love me anymore. i suppose it was better breaking up face-to-face than through letters.” you sighed bitterly, shoulders hiked up to your ears as a fresh wave of quiet tears washed over you, muted by the rain. “this is embarrassing, getting dumped because i was too much.”

“it’s not. you came all the way from mondstadt just to see him. didn’t he at least care about that?” aether asked, which might’ve just been his longest sentence yet. why were you out here soaking? if it were him, he wouldn’t have been so rude to leave you astray during a thunderstorm.

“i can’t force him, if he doesn’t want to see me. i’ll be alright, i promise.” you rest your forehead against the bark of the tree, water sliding off your cheeks—aether isn’t sure if it’s the rain or your tears.

he understands, possibly more than anyone.

and aether—still a weak, weak man when it came to people breaking down in front of him, knowing what it’s like to lose someone so dear to you—gently says, “xiangling told us there’s an event holding place here later. you’re coming with us.”

just liyue was already a warning in itself that it would never be just as that.

you weave yourself in his life as if you were always there, fitting in like you haven’t met him and paimon just a few days ago. he tries to convince himself that he’s doing this to cheer you up, but you’ve been making him smile more than they do to you.

he would turn to his side and see you feeding him a chicken-mushroom skewer after a short battle, insisting even when aether says he’s not as injured as you may think. he would turn to his side and see you and paimon laughing over something he missed and find himself grinning as well.

he would turn to his side when you tug on his sleeve, shyly asking if he’s willing to take you to inazuma as well because you didn’t want to stay in liyue if they weren’t here anymore.

“sure,” aether would say. he’s a weak man, and you were holding on to his cape, looking so adorable that aether wanted to melt on the spot. but that’s a normal reaction to cute things, probably.

taking you to inazuma turns into bringing you along to sumeru, then eventually fontaine, until everyone is convinced you’re a staple in aether’s adventures: aether, paimon, and y/n.

this is what it’s like to have a good team, aether persuades himself. a good team, a useful asset, aether reminds himself sternly as you slice a ruin cruiser off of existence with fierce anger in your eyes and a stick of tricolor dango in your mouth. you wave at him after, beaming, and his heart does something weird.

and now, when some of his friends suggest that he lays you off even just for a day so he can have three other people who work together seamlessly with him, he dismisses it quickly—without thinking. he already works best with you by his side. if they want to come along with him, they have to accept they’re coming along with you just as well.

“thanks for letting me join you,” you whisper one night, lying on the grass and watching the stars with him. you turn your head and meet his eyes, smiling softly.

“of course,” aether says. of course, because now he can’t imagine what it’s like to not have you with him. “i’m the only one who can handle how scary you are.”

you scoff, gently punching his arm as he laughs. “shut up, idiot. you know what i mean.”

i know, aether wants to say. but would that be too much? aether doesn’t want you to think he’s trying to replace someone important in your life this quickly.

you are scary. you’re terrifying him with all these unwanted feelings he doesn’t know what to do with. but aether wasn’t lying, either—he can handle fear just as well.

and now, as aether watches lyney grin and kiss the back of your palm, aether’s chest burns with something unpleasant, sitting in his stomach and urging him to take action. a rock under his shoe. he does not like it, not one bit.

“uhh,” paimon shifts nervously mid-air. “paimon thinks you should stop glaring daggers into lyney before he notices.”

“glaring daggers? i’m not glaring daggers,” aether hisses. his fingers are starting to ache with how painfully he’s clutching his sword. “no daggers here…” he curses as he watches you grow increasingly flustered.

the sight startles him. not your expression, not lyney’s clear provocation, but aether’s stance towards it.

“i thought we’re friends with lyney again?” paimon asks, terribly confused.

“the best of friends,” aether says, marching over to the scene. paimon makes a disbelieving noise.

lyney smirks knowingly as aether gently tugs on your arm. “oh,” lyney says, all sly, more of a fox than a cat, “i didn’t know you were already spoken for. i do apologize for the misunderstanding.”

you glance between an amused lyney and an irked aether, dazed. “i’m not…?”

“your jealous boyfriend says otherwise,” lyney snorts as aether bristles.

aether glares heatedly at lyney, even as the latter backs away with a smug grin. “y/n, let’s go. there’s nothing else to do here.” he’s being rude. he doesn’t care. his mind is blank—or maybe it’s running miles per minute, and he struggles to keep up.

and because you always listen to aether, you let him drag you off, nearly failing to wave goodbye to a chuckling lyney. lyney calls for paimon, distracting her as aether continues walking away from the scene.

you turn to aether, barely able to keep up with his hurried steps. “whoa, whoa, hey, aether—aether, are you okay? your face is so red.” you touch his cheek, and he crumbles. “aether.”

he halts, frowning at the ground. frustrated.

“aether, is there something wrong?”

that’s the thing. aether doesn’t know what’s wrong. he was content with watching you from afar—content with your stars slowly aligning with his as he stands back and watches it happen. he was content with not doing anything about it. but not doing anything about it would mean everyone else thinks you haven’t got aether wrapped around your finger.

“sorry,” aether says. to the painful beating of his heart, restless with unexplained fury. “i didn’t—”

“…idiot.” you always tell him that. you’re the only one who calls him that, but he knows that were they to try, he wouldn’t let it slide so easily. “it’s okay to admit you’re jealous. it’s cute.”

it is not lyney’s flirtations that tip aether over; it’s the sweet smile you give him, the gentleness of your gaze, and your face so close to aether’s that you and him share the same breath. what tips him over is all of it crashing down on him, as daunting as a fight, as abrupt as the beat of his heart:

oh. oh. is that it?

aether doesn’t vividly recall the moment you wormed your way in. maybe it was the moment you jumped down from a tree branch and scared the wits out of paimon, only to demand nervously he take you. maybe it was the moment he softens when your shoulders shake and rain pours relentlessly overhead. maybe it was the stab of jealousy seeing someone else try to steal you away from him when you so obviously belong to him as he belongs to you.

it doesn’t matter.

“i want you,” aether says, then blinks when you do a startled take. “no—no. i mean. i… like you. and i want you to stay. here. not with them. not anyone else.”

“stay right in front of you?”

“in front, beside—doesn’t matter.” aether grows weak, limp as he presses his forehead against yours. “i just want you.”

“okay,” you smile, tipping your chin to kiss his cheek. his heart soars. “that’s all i needed to hear.”

[mymegumi]

SHOULD BE ME, GIRL ෆ KAMO CHOSO

⠀ word count: 0.9k ⠀ warnings: DARK CONTENT!—stepbrother!choso ⠀ (stepcest), afab!reader, masturbation, unknowing ⠀ voyeurism, choso listens in on stepsis!reader having sex, ⠀ choso fantasizes abt reader, protective!choso, reader says ⠀ daddy, choso calls you babygirl in his head ⠀ note: @doobea welcome to my mind may u enjoy this as ⠀ much as u can hehe

sometimes, oftentimes, choso has to wonder if sharing a wall with his stepsister is a curse or a blessing.

a curse—he can hear you crying over your boyfriend missing your birthday, the loud music trying to drown out the sounds of your crying whenever he dumps you, or the constant arguing on the phone whenever the two of you end up back together a few days after he’d left you. the guy wasn’t good for you, and despite being not blood-related for the last half a year or so, choso felt as if he was intruding. had it been itadori or any of his other friends or family having any sort of bad relationship, he wouldn’t have had a second thought for saying that they deserved better.

with you, however, everything is and remains to be different with you.

choso feels… mildly guilty about his less than innocent feelings for you. it’s not his fault that your father had fallen for his mother and the two had gotten married, nor was it his fault that he found his stepsister to be the most alluring being on the earth. everything about you had been exactly as if he’d dreamed it himself, but he had to make do with the fact that he, by law, couldn’t have you.

the walls on the house are thin, and it’s times like these that he considers sharing a wall with you a blessing.

‘oh—! oh—!’ you moan, your voice carrying across the drywall separating yours and choso’s rooms. ‘please, i love feeling your cock in me!’

pressing the palm of his hand into his cock he groans so softly, so strained, that it feels desperate even to him. to imagine feeling what the soft, silkiness of your pussy clamp around his cock—he shudders at the mere thought of it.

choso is practically humping his own hand, desperate to feel any sort of friction on his cock as he can feel his moans leaving his mouth, but he’s trying to be good, to be quiet. grabbing the hem of his shirt, he pulls it up to his mouth and clenches down on it, pressing an ear against the drywall to get a better listen in on you and your boyfriend.

‘fuck me,’ you swear loudly, well aware of the fact that you and your partner were supposed to be alone in the house, ‘you love when i ride your dick like this, baby?’

his eyes slide closed as he worms his hand into his briefs, cock straining against the material and it’s sweet relief when his hand wraps around the base of his cock. he’s hard—he’s been listening to the two of you fucking for about twenty minutes already—and just the image of you, riding his cock with your breasts on full display before him, makes his dick grow just a little bit larger.

behind his eyelids, he imagines you with your hands sliding on your waist, your thighs gripping his hips as you bounce yourself up and down on his cock. he watches as his hands slide from your knees, to your thighs, fingers gripping your thighs and his hand uncontrollably grips his dick just a bit tighter. tightening his legs, he lets his shorts drop to the ground with his underwear. he squeezes gently when his hand reaches the tip, but lets it glide down his shaft smoothly and the sensation leaves goosebumps along his spine.

‘d-daddy!’ you whimper, ‘can i come?’

of course you can, babygirl. he thinks to himself, eyes opening as he watches sweat from his exertion trickle down his abdomen, disappearing in the line of his dark pubes. but only for me.

he hates to think it, but it doesn’t matter who you were riding—the only man who could please you, who knew you inside and out, was choso. your boyfriend would fuck you, but he knew that you’d never experience a true orgasm unless it was by his hand—by his cock.

he just wanted to protect you. your boyfriend was bad news, sleeping with other girls and probably calling you all sorts of names to his friends when you weren’t around. choso wouldn’t ever treat you like that, he’d treat you like the princess you were. choso would treat you like a goddess.

with a burning desire to protect you, to keep you safe from other men’s carnal instincts and unearthly desires, his hand begins to speed up, his grip tightening ever so slightly to, hopefully, send him over the edge. with his teeth bearing down on his shirt stuffed in his mouth, shorts pooled at his ankles and hand rubbing vigorously on his cock, choso listens to you ride your boyfriend in the other room.

he listens to you get yourself off, straining to hear every whimper and moan coming out of your mouth and imagines that it’s his cock you’re riding, that he’s the one eliciting those sounds. when he hears your soft, desperate admission that you were about to come, he feels his own heart stutter.

choso gasps, shirt dropping from his mouth as he lets his come splatter against his side of your shared wall, wishing he could’ve been coming inside of your squidgy pussy, instead. he stands still for a moment, head rested against the wall as he lets his heart rate calm down, his breathing return to normal before he begins to make himself presentable again.

this isn’t the first time he’s come to the thought or the sound of you. it is the first time you send him a knowing smile and wink in the living room a mere ten or so minutes later, which sends a zing straight to his dick.

ʚ reblogs greatly appreciated! ɞ

[forbebeandjam]

Pervert Bada please. Like she has very low morals and she’s horny as hell.

Wants or Needs | Bada Lee x Reader | +21

Summary: as a married woman, you try to keep away from that dangerous woman but why hold back, right?

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: SMUT! Fingering, cunnilingus, cheating

READERS DISCRETION IS ADVISED

A/N: I’m a bit rusty on smuts, y’all. Go easy on me plz 🥹 as for the person who requested. I hope you like it!!🫶🫶

You had a happy relationship with your husband of two years. He was sweet and caring but always busy at work or so you thought. You would oftentimes be at home studying and it was boring to you how he never had time for you so you decided to kill time by signing up to a dance studio.

The first few days were great. The teacher was fun and you were able to get better in skills. On your third week, you noticed your regular teacher was not there in time. You started stretching knowing that he was probably late when you saw a woman walk in.

She was stunning and caught your eye with her aura alone. She scanned the room and took off her jacket exposing her toned body. Her crop top was hugging her body just right.

She adjusted her baggy pants and the elastic of her boxers was showing. She tied her hair back and pulled her arm to the side. For a few minutes, you forgot you needed to stretch and your eyes were glued on the woman.

"Alright, everyone! I'm back. I hope you're all warmed up because we are starting a new dance today. Let's go," the woman clapped. You were confused. You looked around to find one of the older classmates.

"Excuse me, who is that?" You asked.

"Oh, right! You're new. This is Bada. Our regular teacher. She's really cool. You'll love her," she said. You nodded and went back to your spot. Suddenly you heard silence and everyone was looking at you.

"Could you move a bit forward? I have never seen you before," Bada said as she was looking at you. You gulped the knot in your throat down.

"Hi. I'm Y/N." You said shyly. She smirked.

The class started and you followed along perfectly with Bada. She couldn't take her eyes off you every time you moved. You felt her eyes on you and you regretted your outfit choices.

Biker shorts, sports bra, and jacket around your waist.

When the class finished, you dried off your sweat and drank some water. Everyone around you left the room and you decided to sit down and take a moment.

"Hi, I'm Bada," the tall woman said as she sat in front of you digging through her bag.

"Hi. How's it going?" You asked.

"Good. Why don't I know you?" She asked making you more nervous.

"I-I joined the class a few weeks ago," you strutted and cursed yourself mentally for it.

"Oh! It doesn't seem like it. You are really good and I love the way you move your body," she said placing a hand on your knee. You gulped and smiled.

"Listen, we are having a little party tomorrow at my house. I want to make you feel welcome to the studio so," she paused and pulled out a small piece of paper from her jacket.

"This is my address and number. If you need anyone to pick you up, just give me a call. Otherwise, I'll see you there," she winked before dragging her hand across your leg, standing up, and walking out the door leaving you dumbfounded.

You shook your dirty thoughts of the woman and stood up. You took your bag and went back home. You looked around, the place looked like a mess.

Two glasses of unfinished wine were on the table and your furrowed your brows. Your husband was supposed to work late and no one else had access to your house.

As you placed your bag down and silently made your way to the room you could hear smacking sounds and loud moans. You covered your mouth with your hand to avoid any noise.

"You look so beautiful," you heard your husband say.

That's where you saw your husband on top of a random girl. You sort of knew that he had someone on the side but you prayed that you were wrong. So you took your bag and silently left the house completely devastated and heartbroken.

You took a cab to the dance studio. There was no way you could drive in the state you were in. When you made it, you paid the driver and went inside the studio.

And you danced. You danced like there was no tomorrow. You made your own dance routine and felt so free. When the music in your phone came to a halt you took a deep breath and smiled.

"That was amazing," you heard a voice say and claps followed. Bada was standing on the door frame looking at you with a wide smile.

"Sorry. I'm not supposed to be here. I'll leave," you said as you bent down to pick up your bag. You felt a sudden grab on your waist and you stood up to look in the mirror.

She was grabbing your hips and she brought your body closer to hers. You could feel her body heat on you and her breath brushed against against your neck. Your body tensed and your face turned a bright shade of red.

"You look hot when you dance," Bada whispered in your ear.

"Bada..." you tried to move but she held your hips tighter. In the heat of the moment, you turned your head to look at her and her lips met yours. You were taken aback but the range of the recent events made you want to kiss her back.

That, and she looked really hot. You were attracted to her like you've never been attracted to anyone before.

The moment her hand made contact with your skin, there was nothing in your mind but her. Bada Lee. Your dance instructor had intoxicated you and you loved it.

The kiss deepened and soon her hands were roaming your body. You let out soft moans and your shirts were now on the floor. She pressed you against the way as her hand moved slowly from your stomach to the elastic of your bottoms.

"Gosh, your so fucking beautiful," Bada said. That moment, the image of your husband fucking some girl in your bed came back to your head. You broke the kiss and tears threatened to fall.

"I... I am married. I can't do this," You said. She pulled you back.

"It doesn't matter. You are here for a reason. You aren't happily married or you'd be with your partner at this ungodly hour of the night," she said as she placed a kiss on your neck driving you insane.

"Bada~ I can't," You grabbed your shirt and bag and ran out of the studio. You went back home where your husband was sleeping peacefully. You scoffed and went to shower. Yes, you were hurt because he cheated but Bada was slowly invading your head.

Her touch, scent, body, and voice made you regret running away from her. How could you be so stupid?

-

The next day, you woke up and looked around. Your husband was getting ready for work. You saw him fixing his tie and then we walked to pick out his cologne. You scoffed and he turned to look at you.

"Good morning, sweetheart. What time did you get back home?" He asked as he sat next to you and kissed your hand.

"Mh... around two or three in the morning. I just had a lot to do at work," you said with a cheery tone.

"Oh yeah, you told me you were gonna work, right? Thats cool. Well, I will also be late today so don't wait up," he said and your fake smile faded.

"Oh... I will work late too, so I will see you tomorrow," you lied. he kissed your forehead and left the room.

You started your day. After getting ready and running some errands, you started to pack your clothes in luggage. You wanted to get away from him.

Time went by fast and now it was time. Time to go to dance class and face Bada. The woman that had now intoxicated your brain. She was everywhere you went. You saw her in everything.

So you made your way to the studio. You walked into the class and there she was leaning against the mirror staring at the doorway and now at you.

The moment you walked in, a smirk was formed on her lips. She started to walk towards you when a blonde girl interrupted her.

"Bada, when is the competition in Busan?" she said. You took the opportunity to escape Bada rada and went to the back. You ended up being pushed to the middle area when the class started.

you could feel her gaze through her cap. Bada never took her eyes off you and you were flustered causing you to forget the steps. You looked at your feet when you tripped and felt a pair of hands around your waist.

"Are you alright? Here. Let me help you," She said. She took your arm and held your waist, moving it in the direction the choreography required.

"I've got you. You can count on me, pretty girl," she said making you a blushing mess. She then went back to the center of the class and wrapped it up.

You didn't wait. You were too shy to confront her and she didn't seem to care about you being married. You rushed back to your house and realized your husband was already there. It was not even late but there was another pair of shoes there.

You scoffed. It pained you how he could be so careless of you when he promised your father and you to always cherish you and care for you. So you walked into the room where they were lying down.

"Babe!" he yelled when he saw you.

"Oh... didn't know you'd be here. You said you were working late but don't worry. I'll be on my way and you guys can continue like yesterday," you said. He panicked trying to put on his clothes and kept calling your name.

You didn't pay him any mind, picked up your bags, and walked out of the door. Then reality hit you. You were as emotionally strong as you thought. You broke down. You cried like never before and held your chest. People around looked at you in concern but no one dared to help.

Once you calmed down, you decided to dial the only person you could think of who might help you.

Bada.

So you dialed and she answered almost immediately.

"Hey, I was waiting for your call," she said. You sniffled.

"Would you mind giving me a lift? I can't drive right now,"

"Yes, of course. Are you okay?"

"umm... not really. I can't drive right now," you said.

"Send me your location and don't move. I'll go find you," she said and you did as she told you.

As soon as she saw your figure sitting on the floor she exited the car and ran to you. She knelt and lifted your head.

"Are you hurt? What's wrong? Talk to me," Bada asked scanning your body for any injuries.

"He cheated on me," you said. You were crying again and you couldn't see how her tongue poked the side of her cheek. She was angry. How could someone ever hurt someone as beautiful as you?

"Come with me," she said and took you to her car. She drove you to her apartment where loud music was playing. There were lots of people and she had your bags dropped off in the guest bedroom.

She introduced you to some of her friends and you started to loosen up as her friends comforted you and joked around.

Lusher handed you a drink and told you to chug it. And you did without asking. You knew alcohol would help you forget. So you took drink after drink.

You didn't even notice when people started leaving. It was only you sitting at the dining table with a drink in your head and your forehead against the glass table.

"Y/N, get up," Bada held your arm to pick you up. You threw yourself on her arms and giggled too intoxicated to even walk.

"Bada.... Am I ugly? Or what? Am I not good in bed? Why did this happen? I want to talk to him!" She said and she shook her head.

"Come on. You need to sleep," she said as she carried you to the bedroom. She made you lay down and you pulled her down.

"Sleep with me! I feel like shit," you said.

"This will not make you feel any better," Bada said as she took your shoes off. You were already sound asleep. She went up to you and kissed your forehead.

"You are beautiful,"

-

The following morning, you woke up with a headache. You saw Bada sleeping on the floor with a blanket over her body. You didn't feel bad. Minus the headache, you felt grateful for Bada.

Your phone started ringing, and she woke up. You looked at your phone and saw that it was your husband. Bada took the phone and gave you water and pain pills.

She made you food and you followed her around the house quietly. Your phone rang again. And a million messages started entering your phone. One caught your eye.

'Let's make this work. I promise I'll change,'

"I need to talk to him," you said and Bada held your arm and took you to her room.

"You're not going," she said.

"Well, that's not for you to decide, Bada," you said and she scoffed as she pressed you against the wall.

"It became my decision once you put your lips on mine," she said as she got closer to you.

"He could have a change of heart," you said again.

"Do you want to go to him, or do you want to finish what we started in the studio, huh?" The hem of her fingers dragging along your arms.

You cursed mentally and bit your lip looking around the room. You didn't want to go to him. You wanted Bada in every way possible but you couldn't possibly tell her that.

"You took too long to answer. You're mine now," she said before smashing her lips on yours. Her hand was gripping your waist tightly before placing you in the bed.

"I'll make you forget about everything. I'll be the only one in your mind from now on," she said before removing your shirt. She placed love bites on your chest. Marking you as hers,

 You bit your lip to prevent any moan from escaping your mouth but that was all in vain when you felt Bada's hand slip inside your underwear and a slender finger pressed on your sensitive bud. 

A moan escaped your mouth and she took the opportunity to kiss you allowing her tongue to explore your mouth. While sloppily kissing you her finger continued to work on your clit. 

She swallowed every moan that left your mouth. 

"You sound so good, baby. I can't get enough of you since the day I saw you," she said. 

"We just met, Bada. And I am married... ah~" you moaned when she inserted a finger in you. 

"Mh... well, you are a mess right now. And it is all for me. I don't care about anything else. You are mine," she said as she began moving in and out of you. with each thrust, you could feel yourself closer to release and your moans got louder. 

"Bada, please don't stop," you pleaded as she continued moving inside of you. But she wasn't going to let you off easily. She wanted you to know that you were hers. 

She wanted to make you feel so good that no one would ever be able to satisfy you ever again so you'd come begging her for more. And she'd be willing to give it all to you. 

She removed her finger from your inside making you groan. She chuckled and moved down on the bed, pulling you to the edge and slowly removing your bottoms along with your underwear. 

"Fuck... I barely touched you and you are already dripping..." she bit her lips before diving in with her tongue. She collected your juices with her tongue and teased your entrance with her finger. 

"Bada, please..." you whined as you moved your hips trying to find friction to please your needy cunt. 

"That's a good girl. Begging for me to give her what she wants. What she needs," Bada said. She pushed two fingers inside of you and her lips attacked your clit. Loud moans filled the room and you swore you began to see stars.

Your legs were wide open and your hand was tangled in her hair. You pushed her further down on you and your hips moved to an incredible rhythm. Her moans send vibrations through your core making everything feel so much better. 

"Bada... ah fuck. I want more," you moaned out words that were almost incoherent but she understood perfectly. 

"Who is my pretty little doll? Who will let Mommy Bada play with her when she needs to?" Bada asked as she paused her moments. 

"I am. You can use me however you want. I belong to you now," you said between breaths feeling your face grow hotter by the minute as you saw how wet Bada's face was due to your sopping pussy. 

Never have you been in this condition before and yet, you wanted nothing more. She was enough for you. 

"Good dolly," she said before shoving three fingers inside of you. Her long and pretty fingers curled up inside of you and reached all the way to your sweet spot. A nasty and long moan signaled to her that she had finally found it.

And she showed no mercy on you. You tasted too sweet. She couldn't get enough of your taste, your moans, and your warmth. You were just what she was expecting. Just what she wanted. 

As her fingers worked wonders inside of you, her lips sucked on your extremely sensitive clit. You couldn't control yourself anymore. Your back was arched, fists gripped the sheets, and your body was shaking. You could feel your legs closing up on Bada's head. 

She looked at you. You looked perfect with your eyes rolled back and completely destroyed under her touch. 

"Bada- Ba- Bada... I... mmmh," you couldn't form a sentence when you felt your release. You came all over her face and fingers. She chuckled as she felt your warm juices coat her and she licked up every drop as you recovered from the intense orgasm the tall stranger had just given you. 

But... If she was so deep inside you, was she really a stranger at all?

She shoved her two fingers in your mouth making you taste yourself. 

"Clean up your mess, will you?" she said and you sucked on the woman's fingers licking up your mess. She then proceeded to kiss you passionately as she grabbed you by the neck. 

"Let this be a lesson that a pretty doll like you belongs to me, and I don't like to share my toys," 

And with that she walked off, leaving her pretty doll disheveled and satisfied in her... and now your bed.

Thank you for reading 🩵

[flowerbloom-arts]

AU where the Shifting Mound doesn't snatch the Damsel so soon and you have to deal with the repercussions of existing past "Happily Ever After" with a voluntarily undeveloped Sweet Love Interest™.

(also, yippee finally found a way to put my 2 interests together!!)

(absolutely incomprehensible ramble under the cut.)

Okay so I'm going to make this as understandable as possible for the uninitiated, whether it be for the Moomin comic strip or the franchise at large.

The plushie the Damsel is holding is that of the Snork Maiden (or just Snorkmaiden), the girlfriend/love interest for the main character, Moomintroll. Now, Snorkmaiden is an interesting and largely misunderstood character, especially when it comes to her comic version where she's a bit of a "promiscuous" character who oftentimes ditches Moomintroll for another man when she sees fit, this is where the misunderstanding lies.

Snorkmaiden haters will dismiss this (if they were to read the comics, because in all honesty they aren't that widely considered or even read in the fandom) as an addition to her general unlikeability as an "obstacle" to the fandom's main gay ship between Moomintroll and his best friend, Snorkmaiden sympathizers will leap to justify this with the good ol' It Was Heteronormativity All Along, which is a very... Honestly lazy reading/justification of her character which doesn't hold up under scrutiny. I, however, have an obviously superior reading of her character (/not serious)

Snorkmaiden simply has a very different definition of romance or at least wants to gain something different out of the concept of romance as opposed to the general public perception built up around it, one which even Moomintroll can't even begin to grasp.

What she gets out of romance, and where it begins and ends for her, is the adventurous fall and honeymoon of it, and each new man she gets into a relationship with is thematically appropriate to the adventure/problem of the week that she and her boyfriend's family are currently facing. When she goes to the French Riviera she starts dating a rich actor because it is a tourist shoreline city where all the celebrities go, when she finds herself in the wintery unknown (she and the Moomins usually hibernate through it, they're creatures like that) she catches a crush on a professional winter sportsman, when she decides to live a hedonist life because some self-proclaimed prophet came in and told everyone to she decides to start it by running away with someone new, when she gets a job as a secretary she falls in love with a coworker who is really interested in accounting, so on and so forth. Even with Moomintroll, they fell in love upon her introduction and Moomintroll signifies a new life in the valley in which they currently live in.

And in the end all of these new romances fall apart either due to unfortunate circumstances, Moomintroll's jealous intervention or her simply becoming disinterested eventually, and in the end of all of them she returns to Moomintroll, as per formulaic comic strip storytelling. (I must mention that Moomintroll also falls in love with other women based on their looks, and he also fell in love with Snorkmaiden because he thought she was pretty, so, he's not that much better really)

This is a repeating cycle, one that Snorkmaiden is simply incapable of breaking out of due to the conventions of her narrative. No matter what she tries, where she goes, who she gets with, she'll always end up back in Moomintroll's arms whether he "earns it back through chivalry" or she runs back to him much to her previous chagrin. It's a self-fulfilling cycle too, in one comic it's shown that she's so used to Moomintroll's behavior that it sours her current relationship with an already bad partner even further. If she was capable of Truly Leaving then she stopped being capable at that point. Snorkmaiden is stuck with a long-term boyfriend when she normally strives in a short-term relationship.

She's also deeply entrenched in romance tropes and loves to roleplay them with Moomintroll, and especially loves them when she thinks they're real, these tropes she fancies usually tend toward kidnapping (and not alot of rescuing) or romantic sacrifice such as dueling or... Romeo and Juliet. These things are extensions of her ideas on what romance is, more about the short-term thrill than the long-term contentment.

Of course, with most Moomin media having a child demographic as opposed to the adult newspaper readers of the comics, Snorkmaiden's character in adaptations of these stories get presented without the depth or the means for that depth, as she gets presented as either a somewhat boring playdate to Moomintroll with grand, childish ideas of romance or a naggy girlfriend whom the writers try to make feminist but ultimately fails to deliver on anything subversive or substantial.

How this ties into the Princess is the cyclical nature of it all, the choices with no branching ends, the new experiences with seemingly no development, the change and then the sudden stop. And with the Damsel in particular it is the reduction of such an interesting and intriguing person full of potential to a cutout of a simple Love Interest. All that anguish is suddenly washed away into something more palatable, a parody of a fairytale princess, a goodness so pure that it is sickening, no motivation behind the eyes except for one simple goal.

Now. Don't get me wrong, the Damsel is my favorite princess, between the Adversaries and the Towers and the Witches and Wilds, the Damsel is the one which captivated my singular interest, becaus I'm not immune to her trappings of adorable beauty and saccharine sweetness with no other motivation than to make her hero happy, I believe that it's a combination of the player's desire for her to be a normal princess they can have a happy ending with but also her willfully stripping herself out of guilt of what she's done to the player.

She stripped herself of any real personhood just to make us happy, and that is the purest motivation anyone can have, really, a terribly misguided one but the sentiment is immeasurable. I pity her and I love her and I want her to be so genuinely happy because of what she's gone through but I know very well that she's incapable of that because the decisions the player chose made her that way, she is made incapable of genuine happiness without total dependence on the player's feelings and that really breaks my heart.

It breaks my heart when she's reduced to a crappy middle school anime drawing when she's put through the pressure of getting interrogated or being told strange things about what would make the player happy.

It breaks my heart when she's finally free but then immediately met with the coldness of the Shifting Mound and thought that coldness was happiness.

It breaks my heart when she accepts her second death with tears in her eyes and a smile because she thinks that's what made the player happy, and yet somehow she couldn't accept it as a real decision the player made on their own because in the first time she was warned that they were possessed, so the only conclusion she could come up with was that the cabin was causing this pain and so as the Grey she decides to burn the whole place to the ground and stare at you lovingly until her face melts away.

It breaks my heart that the Grey is in a wedding dress, on top of that.

She's so desperate to cling onto the first person to show her kindness that she seems to have become broken over it. She's so terribly tragic that I can't help but keep thinking about her and the million heartbreaks knowing that she's so lovely and selfless but she wasn't Real anymore.

I want her to have a massive fairytale wedding like at the end of Disney's old Cinderella movie and live forever with some physical manifestation of Voice of the Smitten. I want her to come back to personhood and cry and not be snapped like a twig over it. I want the Damsel to be happy in any way she seems fit to be but I know that can never happy, both by the nature of the game but also in the very programming of her character.

She is trapped, whether it's in the cabin, her own circular mentality or as part of the Shifting Mound, she's incapable of of being really free as her own person unless you count the ending of us leaving with the no-blade blade starter princess.

... And that's why I think she should hold a massive Snorkmaiden fair prize won by her darling new butch knight girlfriend.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I’d like to request head cannons on how kisses with the Lin Kuei are like, for example are they quick and short are they messy are they slow are they gentle ext.

Tomas Vrbada:

Kissing Tomas is sweet, it’s goofy, it’s excitable but most of all kissing Tomas is tender.

Almost as though if he pressed his lips any further against yours, you’d break and shatter, so you’d probably have to be the one who has to deepen the kiss.

and or reassure Tomas that he can kiss you deeper and that you’re not fragile. You under stood his concern but you would always voice whether or not something was right.

Your relationship with Tomas is firmly built on communication and trust in the other to respect the boundaries that’s been put in place.

You wholeheartedly trust him to not hurt you and vice versa.

During the act of kissing, Tomas would begin to smile against your lips, sighing softly in content as he allowed himself to be immersed in the moment and nothing else outside of it; believing to be a disservice to you.

Kissing you makes Tomas giddy and joyful to the point it’s contagious and you end up smiling again his lips in kind, enjoying how Tomas could make something like kissing light and bubbly. As though it was your first kiss.

That’s what it was truly like to kiss Tomas, like it was your first.

Bi-Han

Bi-Han is a rough/possesive kisser.

Can’t tell me otherwise.

The man had bottled up his emotions so much that when it comes to kissing, he’s going to be manhandling you a little with those big hands of his, and you’re going to end up with bruising lips.

His kisses are domineering but passionate in a raw way.

They’re the type of kisses that could easily get you riled up with how he kept a sense of dominance over you throughout the act, that you couldn’t help but melt into him from the intensity he brings to something as intimate as kissing.

Which is ironic considering he runs extremely cold.

He’s the type to grunt/groan during a kiss on some occasions but not all.

Another thing to remember that it depends on his mood during the kiss also because if he’s even remotely annoyed, the kiss is going to be rough, kinda sloppy but enjoyable nonetheless the less.

Kissing Bi-Han was like suffocating in the most pleasurable way possible.

Kuai Liang

Kissing Kuai Liang is reaffirming, warm, safe.

Reaffirming in the way that he didn’t need words to remind of how much he loved you and instead did so through kissing you breathless, ridding you of any and all insecurities you may have been feeling at the time.

His kisses are languid, slow and purposeful in remembering how your lips felt on his, that oftentimes you grow impatient with how slow his lips would weave between your own.

Kuai Liang finds your impatience hilarious and endearing but would remind you of the importance of self indulgence, for life is fleeting and short that it’s better to prolong intimate moments likes these whenever possible; you’ll never know when the next time it could happen, if ever.

Needless to say you stopped complaining about Kuai Liang’s slow, languid pace afterwards and instead chose to embrace the fact that Kuai Liang wanted to savour every last kiss he had with you, and committing it to memory so that when he’s out on missions; he would knew what he was fighting for and who was waiting for him back home.

You were his motivation, his reason to come back alive.

Kissing Kuai Liang was like willingly knowing that these moments were never built to last, but you’d spend the rest of your life savouring them for the instance where you couldn’t anymore.

[poppylovestowrite]

can I request a Nagisa and Gakushuu(separately)kissing reader headcannons?

Nagisa Kissing Headcanons.

Ugh. He's so sweet.

Like, he would always ask if it's okay to kiss you.

Even if you tell him it's fine.

He is always worried that you won't like it.

But you do.

He would mostly kiss your cheek or forehead.

Kissing on the lips is super rare. 

The boy wouldn't be able to handle it. 

And usually, you're the one who initiates a kiss on the lips.

But when he does, it's always so soft and gentle.

Almost hypnotic in a way. 

It almost makes you wonder if he's ever kissed anyone else.

But, that's highly unlikely.

After every kiss though, he found it very hard to meet your eyes for a bit.

The kisses weren't even heated to start with. They're actually pretty innocent.

Because of him, the kisses are normally rated pg or family-friendly.

Not that you're complaining.

You have to look out for his boundaries too. 

Oftentimes, you're the one who would randomly spring a kiss onto him.

It surprises him, but he doesn't mind.

He just makes him flustered. 

It does make him feel more comfortable around you if you enjoy giving him kisses.

Gakushu Kissing Headcanons

This boy was never even hugged as a child, so you better believe getting a kiss from him would take a while.

He would eventually grow comfortable enough to ask you for a kiss.

He was very gentlemen-like when it came to kissing.

At first, Gakushu would avoid touching you while kissing you, until you assured him you were fine.

But still, he would touch you as if you were made of porcelain. 

Gakushu would sometimes get scared to prolong the kiss for too long.

He was afraid to make you uncomfortable.

That's why the kisses are usually short and sweet.

However, as confident as he is, he can get rather shy and flustered when the kisses aren't short or sweet. 

He may seem like he is sure of himself while keeping his lips on yours, but his heart is threatening to leap out of his chest and his brain, for once, is unable to tell him what to do.

Every time he does press your kiss his lips against yours, he would often cradle your cheeks with his hands.

He would sometimes kiss the back of your hand like you're some princess.

It's usually when he makes a promise to you.

He would also often kiss you on the forehead as a goodbye.

Gakushu wouldn't kiss you out in public.

Maybe on the cheek, but that's about it. 

If you want a more intense kiss, you're going to have to ask him first. 

Don't worry. He won't say no ;)

[a-d-nox]

how to find your word/theme for the new year

oftentimes, people like to know what their theme is for the next year. they want keywords! stuff that is short sweet and to the point (i am gonna do a bit of an explanation for why i picked the word but you will get what i mean). grab your solar return charts - yes, charts! chances are you will be experiencing two general themes in the year (unless you were born the week before the new year or the week following the new year).

my birthday is in october, so it feels like i get a head start on the theme that will take up a majority of my next year. at the same time, i have these two random months at the end of the year that are not the same as the bulk of my year...

so looking at your solar return charts - we want to examine the 1h! the 1h will tell us what is the driving force of the year. so on to my examples for my year (assuming i don't move):

january to october

1h sagittarius (9°, 21°): grow, explore, optimism, freedom, etc

1h ruler in 6h: routine, health, work, service, etc

combining the themes

balance: sagittarius demands personal growth and expansion but 6h requires service and the support of others, if not the support of your body.

expand: sagittarius and jupiter wish to explore new opportunities - the 6h is about health and the job you do, so this could be about expanding your personal development in terms of how you nourish your body or seeking out new job opportunities that will aid your personal development.

harmony: there is a natural opposition oftentimes between asc and 6h (at least using WHS)... so this could be a year of boundaries learning how to balance self-assertion while also being generous towards others.

wellness: both then 1h and the 6h are tied to the body in some way shape and form... and sagittarius is a natural explorer, so this could be a time for you to explore your health, your fitness routine, dna, etc. chance are there is something you can learn to become a better version of yourself physically!

november to december

1h aries (1°, 13°, 25°): courage, assert, lead, confidence, self trust, etc

1h ruler in 8h: transform, power, growth, heal, etc

1h chiron: confront, wisdom, transform, self-acceptance, etc

asc square moon: integrate, present, feel, etc

combining the themes

empower: there is a lot at play in the end portion of the year and for a majority of 2026 for me. with the asc square moon and 1h chiron it seems likely learning to confront being hurt and to be okay with being not okay. 1h ruler in 8h and 1h aries can be about feeling encouraged to reclaim power over a situation. mars/ares is a battle god he has seen some shit and still standing tall, scars and all.

heal: playing off of the themes discussed in "empower", it takes strength and courage to say you want to heal and get better - to no longer want active wounds but scars instead. this is a more focused, emphasized look at 1h ruler in 8h and 1h chiron.

release OR resilience: asc square moon and 1h ruler in the 8h demand a catharsis. let go of what is no longer serving you emotionally. unpack the mental and emotional baggage you carry with you. emerge stronger (1h aries) and wiser (1h chiron) for doing so.

self-acceptance: aries is the 1st sign of the zodiac and often is referred to as the child of the bunch. 1h ruler in the 8h may require you to dig through emotional past stuff. asc square moon is all the emotional stuff you still have bottled up and haven't released yet. 1h chiron are wounds you can't heal yourself... you have learn to embrace everything - hug your inner child because they need it, go through the past stuff and process it, accept those bottled emotions because they have been a part of you for so long, and recognize you can't always patch up your own wounds. accept who you are as a whole - baggage, blood, bottles, and all.

click here for the masterlist

click here for more of nox's hypotheses

want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices!

© a-d-nox 2025 all rights reserved

[daydreams-after-dark]

Hii can I request a Dom seungmin and jeongin fic (threesome) plzplz? Could be anything but pls I've been very thirsty for Dom vocalracha lately after reading this one fic of them on Tumblr having a foursome with reader+Felix and I very much died reading it

Plz make it extra rough but lots of praise, could be any scenario, just Dom seungmin and jeongin 🥰

Also unrelated ask but r u comfy with writing fics where reader is transgender? Ftm or mtf? Just asking, it's unrelated to the req dw

Have a good one 🎂

It’s a Jeongin and Seungmin story today 🤗

Not my usual characters, but it seems so many of you after-darklings (not sure what I should call you: suggestions are open) are getting really wet and/or hard for this pair. So I feel I must feed you all the goodness that is vocalracha.

Also, re ftm / mtf, absolutely open to this, but I don’t feel knowledgeable enough just yet.

MDNI // SMUT

CW: threesome m x f x m, rough penetration, oral sex (m rec.), collar and leash, choking, blindfolds, squirting, praise, pet names, creampie, pussy slapping, face slapping, spanking, hair pulling, overstimulation.

You knew when you received the voice message from Jeongin you were fucked. Well, going to be fucked. Rough, according to his message.

“You’re in a lot of trouble my sweet little girl. Avoiding me all week like that. Meet me at the hotel. You know what’s going to happen.”

You gulped. The hotel usually meant an extra level of unhinged, and oftentimes he’d bring Seungmin to play with punish you.

You put on your best pair of lace panties and matching bra, high heels and a short little dress and took a cab into the outer city where the hotel was located.

They were already there. Waiting for you.

Seungmin answered the door. “Pretty little pup.” He whispered, cupping your jaw and swiping his thumb along your bottom lip and smearing your freshly applied lipstick.

You allowed your lips to part slightly, an opportunity Seungmin immediately took. He hooked his thumb in your mouth forcefully and chuckled to himself. “I’ve missed you. Missed owning you.”

He spun you around and pushed you up against the door and nipped at your neck. You could feel his erection pressing against you.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good.” He whispered against your neck. His hands peeled your dress up and squeezed the flesh of your ass. One hand remained there while the other quickly unbuckled his belt.

Anticipation flooded your body, your cunt aching for his cock. He squeezed his length between your thighs so it slid against your pussy.

“Fucking wet already, hmm? Panties are soaked.” He kissed your neck passionately. “A filthy little whore. A perfect little pup.”

“Seungmin.” A stern voice came from the bed. “You’re not going to fuck her in the first five minutes. She needs to be a begging mess before she deserves our cocks.”

You whimpered. You wanted Seungmin to sink into you right then and there.

“Jeongin, needs for you to beg for it, princess. I need you to be a really good girl for me. You want my cock don’t you?” He nipped your earlobe.

“Y-yes… cock. Need your cock.” You choked.

“I know you do. All you need to do is exactly what we say, and I promise we’ll let you come.”

You nodded. “Yes. I’ll be a good pup.”

“Crawl to me.” Jeongin demanded in a cold tone. You swallowed hard as Seungmin backed away and you turned and dropped onto all fours.

You met Jeongin’s gaze as you slowly crawled across the floor, the hotel carpet rough on your knees. Better than a hardwood floor, you supposed. You knelt between his knees and waited.

Seungmin came up behind you and attached your favourite collar and leash, handing the chain to Jeongin.

“Stand.” He tugged the chain and you obeyed. “Take off your clothes. Leave your heels on.”

The two men watched you with hungry eyes as you pulled your dress down and stepped out of it. Then your panties and bra. They’d seen you naked plenty of times, but you still felt yourself blush a little, when their expressions were as though it was their first time seeing your naked form.

“Now undress us.” Seungmin commanded as he drifted his hand down your back and over the curve of your ass.

You took your time undressing them, marinating in the anticipation that had taken over your body. You were wet from just the thought of what was unfolding, your cunt ached knowing it was going to be abused shortly.

Jeongin settled on the bed. Head resting on the pillows, long, hard erection lying against his taut abs. Fucking scrumptious.

Slowly, you climbed up onto the bed and he grasped the chain dangling from your collar and tugged you so your face was hovering over his cock. He patted your head gently and smiled kindly.

Then his entire demeanour changed in a millisecond. His shy eyes turned deranged, his smile turned into a crazed grin.

Seungmin was quickly behind you bullying his cock into your cunt. You gasped at the stretch and then the depth as he slammed in the entire way.

“We’re not going to go easy on you. But we know you’re a good girl. We know you’re going to take everything we give you.” He grunts as he sets a brutal pace.

“Choke on my cock, pretty angel.” Jeongin whispered.

You took him in a hand and teased him with your tongue. You licked up the underside of the shaft and then slapped it against the flat of your tongue.

“Tsk tsk… that’s not choking on it, sweetheart.” Jeongin pushed the back of your head down over his length.

Seungmin snapped his hips hard, every impact of his pelvis against your ass pushed you further onto Jeongin’s length. You made a loud choking sound, and the two men chuckled.

“That’s our good girl. Pretty sounds.” Jeongin purred as you struggled to take him.

Suddenly, your arms were ripped from underneath you where you had been supporting yourself, and were held securely behind your back by Seungmin. With no way to support your upper body, you fell entirely over Jeongin’s cock, choking you even more. Your lips met his pubic bone and your eyes widened with fear.

Seungmin grunted and pinned you down by pushing on your arms where he had them in his tight grip.

Jeongin started to thrust his hips up to fuck your face. Your vision blurred as your eyes filled with tears and your mascara smeared on your cheeks.

You felt someone tug on the chain, lifting you up enough to catch your breath and then you were pushed back down.

Harder and harder they fucked you from both ends, you without any control over what was happening. They let you up for air, then pushed you back down to deep throat Jeongin. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to do this. You could hardly catch your breath before your throat was being stretched with his dick again.

“So perfect. Look at you. Such a good little slut for us.” Jeongin stroked your hair affectionately. “Taking cock so fucking well.”

Without warning, Seungmin pulled out of your dripping cunt and yanked you off of Jeongin.

“I’ve got a fun game I wanna play with you pup.” He fetched the swivel chair from the desk in the the corner of the room and positioned it in the middle of the floor.

“Come. Kneel on this.” He directed you. Pulling the leash. You knelt on the seat of the chair with your arms resting on the backrest.

A blindfold was placed around your eyes and fingers were shoved into your mouth. At the same time a cock pushed its way into your needy cunt.

You could tell it was Seungmin’s fingers and Jeongin’s cock by how aggressive the hips were slamming into you and how rough the fingers were.

Your orgasm was building, your walls tightening. Yes. Yes. This felt so fucking amazing.

Then, you were empty and being spun on the chair, only to be penetrated again. They fucked you for some time before repeating the process. Again and again and again.

You became so fucked out that you lost track of who was in your pussy and who was in your mouth. All you knew was that you were in some sort of filthy heaven. A little cockslut for your favourite men.

They pulled and tugged your hair, their fingers were rough and unforgiving in your mouth. They fucked you for their own pleasure, not caring how deep they were hitting you. Not caring if it hurt. They slapped your ass, dug their fingers in. They even slapped your face every so often, which made your cunt clench.

You loved it when they were rough with you. You were so close, on the verge of shattering, when you found yourself empty once more. The blindfold was ripped off and you were laid on your back at the edge of the bed.

“Hold your fucking legs up, sweetheart.”

“Please…I need to come. Please…been good…please!” You were sobbing and begging for relief.

“Shhh… pup. We’ve got you.” Seungmin cooed.

He rubbed lyour pussy frantically, almost violently, slapping your pussy every now and then. Jeongin held his cock close as he spurted thick ropes of cum on your entrance. He pushed your legs back, pinning them in place while Seungmin relentlessly assaulted your pussy.

“Take it. You wanna come. Be a good girl.” He taunted.

You squirmed and writhed underneath them, your clit was too sensitive. But the pressure inside continued to build until—

“Fuck!!!!!!!! Nghhh!!!! Coming!!” You cried as liquid spurted from your core.

“Yes…make a mess…I know you have more.” Growled Jeongin and he pushed two long fingers inside you to attack your g spot.

It was too much. You had lost control of your voice, your thoughts - everything, and with what could only be described as a wild, primal scream you squirted more, spilling your juices all over yourself. You broke down, crying and shaking.

But they weren’t finished with you. Jeongin rubbed your juices and his cum all over your stomach and up to your breasts, massaging them in a rough way. Seungmin quickly pushed his cock back inside you and fucked your sensitive and used pussy some more.

“Gonna fill you up, pup.” He panted.

Jeongin’s hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed as Seungmin emptied himself against your cervix. Feeling Seungmin’s final thrusts whilst being choked had you seeing stars one more time.

You were addicted to this, and you made a mental note to be a brat this coming week. You wanted to see how far you could push them, what kind of games they’d want to subject you to.

But for now, the three of you were spent, taking your time to shower and dress, and eventually go out for a meal.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni

[sinisterexaggerator]

Summary: Nick Valentine hardly ever leaves your thoughts, but you're barely on his radar. Your infatuation takes a rather interesting turn; you're caught red-handed in his bed, wearing candy apple lipstick and a freshly laundered dress. What is to become of you? Will you be able to confess your feelings, or will you run away instead?

Warning: NSFW / 18+ for masturbation/being caught in the act, kissing, cunnilingus, fingering, mild wire play, angst, drama, "love" confessions, and sass.

Word count: 5.9K

Notes: I may make a part two for this after "you" get to know each other a little better. I don't see Nick letting just anybody play with his innards all willy-nilly, but I had a lot of fun writing it!

Read on Ao3

It wasn’t an eyesore, and neither was the Synth who owned it, luminescent neon laid out in letters, an arrhythmic fluctuation in voltage causing a delay in current every three point five seconds—you had counted.

How could a man with the last name Valentine—whose brand was marked with a heart pierced by Cupid’s arrow—not see the underlying machinations from which your attention spurred?

He was a detective, no less, unable to work out your motivations, not understanding that every nuance—every quirk of your lips, every gleam in your eye, every smile—was for him, because of him, and that you had long ago fallen for his wit, his charm, his mind, and for his heart.

A man who wasn’t a man—thrown together in some lab—though that needn’t be your concern. It mattered little if he was flesh and bone or biomechanical, though his kind was greatly feared and for good reason.

Nick was different, he was a diamond in the rough of Diamond City, shining more brightly than even the Valentine Detective Agency’s ostentatious signage. A do-gooder who never tired, a being whose higher purpose rested not with himself, but with others, giving more to the people of the Commonwealth than they rightfully deserved.

For all the hate, intolerance, and ignorance Nick dealt with on the daily, he dished out love, empathy and acceptance in equal measure, though he was not one to take an insult lying down.

He was also passionate; fiery beneath a calm and collected disposition, his habitually stoic makeup a steadying force and welcomed counterbalance to the restless biome that flourished within these walls.

It was when he spoke to you the first time that you became enamored with his personality, whether artificial, finding him to be bold and charismatic. He had asked what brought you to the neighborhood—you were a trader who lost your caravan, your guards, nothing left but the caps in your pocket. 

Luckily for you, a man named Arturo Rodriguez had been contemplating the idea of extending his hours for quite some time, his competition employing a salvaged Mister Handy named Percy to sell goods even in the dead of night—it was a case of being in the right place at the right time, one you were thankful for.

It became engrained into his subroutine, these evening visitations, Nick sharing bits and pieces of his history with you for a lack of customers, though oftentimes short and sweet as he kept himself busy. There was always a new crime to be investigated, or a new case to be solved.

Truth be told, the detective was worried about you—a solitary woman—being out there by your lonesome at such late hours. All kinds of riffraff ushered themselves in off the streets, not caring what time of the day it was.

Diamond City was a safe haven as much as it was a magnet for undesirables, those men and women of ill repute that made life difficult for hardworking people just trying to get by. Security could only do so much; it was common for slime to slip through the cracks, portions of the city less fortified than others.

Still, Nick felt Arturo ought to be ashamed, getting a broad to do his dirty work. Little did he know this job had been a godsend, or that you were tougher than a two-dollar steak and twice as hard to chew.

Call him a gentleman, but Valentine, on more than one occasion, had gone out of his way unbeknownst to you, changing his route home simply to check in on your stall. 

“Workin’ hard, or hardly workin’?” Nick had inquired, the corner of his mouth creeping upward to indicate his offhanded chiasmus was merely a good-natured tease. 

“You know me,” you had answered back, “total slacker.”

“Stickin’ it to the man, glad to hear it,” he would drawl, voice dry and deadpan yet soothing to the ears. Even though Nick was cordial with Arturo, he didn’t mind having a joke at his expense.

“Doing my part,” you replied, wishing he’d step closer, wishing he would stay and chat a while.

“Stay out of trouble, doll,” he’d warn, tipping the brim of his hat; you were in awe at how a single monosyllabic word could drive you toward such filthy imaginings as you were then, reveling in that passing instant he had paid you mind.  

Mission accomplished, Nick would wander off to park himself at the Agency, unaware that for the rest of the night your mind was wholly occupied by impure thoughts—and it was all his fault. It was ridiculous that a simple term of endearment expressed so casually could nearly short-circuit your human brain, yet here you were.

Could he make love to you if you asked? Would he touch you if you begged him to? 

You supposed his existence was an adventurous one, wishing you could participate in something other than this humdrum life, though you assumed you ought to be grateful you were alive at all.

But it unnerved you—angered you to no end— to hear the drivel that oozed like poison from out the mouths of bigots when they spoke of Nick Valentine in his absence. They declared he was not sentient, that an intelligence such as his was naïve to think of itself as self-aware, as if they were any more autonomous than he, choosing to act of their own free-will by way of insults and disgraceful slurs.

Arturo had been accommodating, allowing you the top floor of his home until you could get on your feet. Such things were heard from rooftops, echoing beyond thin strips of sheet metal to leech its way into your ears. You roosted, enjoying the wide-open view of the sky and the clouds drifting by, only for your mood to sour, tempted to shout obscenities at the offender—usually Myrna— from your place in the dark.

You valued Nick’s company despite the rumors or the gossip about the Institute, ignoring the fact he was a Synth. You wondered if something was wrong with you, finding your short exchanges to be a thousand times more stimulating than any discourse with your neighbors—Valentine’s smile alone was worth more than all the caps in the world.

You often daydreamed about his cybernetic eyes looking down at you from your place atop his mattress, bright as sunbeams, imbued with radiant golden light. They were the windows to his soul—and you were convinced he had one— no one could tell you otherwise.

Then, more questions came. Could man love machine? Could machine love man? Ethical quandaries that knew no bounds. Those of narrow minds might call it an abomination in the eyes of God, while for others it might cause confusion, or effectuate ridicule.

Somehow, none of that would matter, not if Nick returned what was undeniably blossoming into not just admiration, but desire. Could Synths feel desire? Could androids dream?

And the man did flirt, if only feigning attraction, but not with you—you did not assume you were boring or undesirable, but you carried yourself the opposite of Piper, or even his assistant, Ellie. These women were always present in his life, women you tried not to be jealous of, though the ease with which they spoke, the familiarity of their years together ate away at you, knowing you might never reach the level of intimacy you so craved.

Besides, nothing good came of getting close to someone in this day and age, yet you wanted to be—scared of heartbreak, of them being stolen from you too soon, or of being sorely disappointed should they show themselves to be something other than what you thought them to be. There were risks at every turn; you had to decide—would you ever be brave enough to tell him how you felt?

Then, one day, you heard about the love between Ms. Edna and Mr. Zwicky, a robot and a human getting married of all things—it’s what prompted you to stand outside Nick’s door right this very moment, staring long enough at the glowing, heart-shaped outline for it to be burned into your retinas.

The sun was sinking just beyond the wall, Diamond City winding down as its citizens took shelter in their homes or closed up shop—it was thankfully one of your nights off.

You couldn’t get it out of your head, the very idea of a single touch, a single kiss—an affectionate word shared, a smile meant just for you. To make him smile would be the most gratifying thing of all. Too often Valentine looked glum, his thoughts weighing on him, dragging him down along with all the horrors that came with living in a post-apocalyptic society.

To kiss it away, to ensconce him in your embrace—to make him forget he wasn’t human, if only for a few minutes—your heart raced at all the possibilities, all he had to do was let you in.

You assumed a knock was in order, deep, slow breaths doing little to calm your nerves. You had adorned a dress for the occasion, something someone had traded for extra ammo. It was soft blue in color, and in relatively good condition. Ultimately, it was clean, and that was all that mattered to you. Arturo had no use for it, so it had wound up in your possession. Now you would wear it to confess, though you were nervous, a wellspring of anxiety having burgeoned behind your ribs.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” you had asked yourself, fingers curling as you raised your arm. After a few more seconds delay, you made a move to rap against the door, painted red to match the sign out front. There was just one problem—it opened before you could, Ellie’s eyes widening as she jerked a step backward, the woman obviously on her way out.

She said your name, denoting her surprise. You would quickly apologize, already on edge.

“Sorry, Ellie, I—” You paused, averting your eyes to stare at the ground that had suddenly become so interesting. “I was hoping to see Nick,” you bashfully admitted.

The woman quirked a brow, amused for some unknown reason, as if she was in on your little secret just by the way you carried yourself. You attempted to straighten up, offering her a smile to throw her off your scent; you weren’t sure that it was working, though she was kind enough not to comment.

“He stepped out a few hours ago,” she informed you, “but he should be back any minute. You can wait here if you like, but I promised Cathy I’d go have a drink with her.” Ellie gave a halfhearted laugh, “apparently she needs a night out away from her husband.”

“Al-all right,” you managed, supposing Nick was hardly ever “home,” what with being hired for everything under the sun from finding missing cats to tracking down murderers—you only hoped for his safe and swift return.

“I’ll leave the door unlocked,” she offered, holding it open; you timidly stepped forward, Ellie giving you a small wave on her way out.

It was not until that moment you realized you had never stepped foot inside Valentine’s Detective Agency, something you felt ashamed of—maybe he assumed you had no interest in his work. The thought caused a frown to form, but you didn’t want to lose track of why you were here, though finding no harm in taking a look around.

You were respectful, not having it in you to snoop or pry, no matter how many folders lay open or scattered about his desk. There were copies of old newspapers, the latest from Publick Occurrences, rusty filing cabinets, overloaded cardboard boxes, and clipboards with scribbled notes attached.

You spied holotapes of unknown origin, scraps of memorabilia from times long since passed. Items you could only guess at—clues, maybe? Not to mention an assortment of tools, perhaps left over from Nick’s days as a handyman—he’d told you stories, though the idea made you uncomfortable, somehow—the Synth reduced to making household repairs when he was a being of such remarkable intelligence.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, having found yourself sitting at the man’s cluttered workspace. You stared at the painting before you, a tranquil forest scene that had been tarnished by years of grime and dust. A half-smoked cigarette in a nearby ashtray caught your eye; you surprised yourself by picking it up, placing the filter between lips painted a pretty candy apple red, having decorated yourself with a little lipstick for the occasion—you could hardly think of a better time to wear it.

The stale scent of nicotine invaded your nostrils, its taste pungent on your tongue. You struck a match against its book, wanting to experience something that had graced Nick’s synthetic lips, if you couldn’t do so firsthand.

Smoke drifted toward the ceiling, diffusing in loose curls above your head as you exhaled, feeling yourself becoming aroused by your salacious daydreams. You leaned back in Nick’s chair with a faint smile, closing your eyes to more clearly picture his face.

Your free hand groped your own breast, teeth biting down on tender flesh, imagining what it might be like for Valentine’s mechanical fingers to touch you; would it feel cold like metal, or warm like machinery? Sharp like the point of a knife, or smooth like purified silver?

You sighed with longing, chest rising and falling as you stared at the ceiling. You took another drag, finding the burn to be unpleasant as the cigarette reached its end. You bent forward and extinguished it in that same ashtray—Nick would never know the difference—forgetting your lipstick would leave a stain behind.

You normally weren’t one to smoke, feeling slightly buzzed upon standing, riding the tiny high the nicotine gave you as you spied a small space off to your right; you had yet to explore it. There was nothing to keep you out, no locks, no warning signs; you tiptoed forward, as if committing a crime that warranted the use of stealth, peeking around the corner to find a staircase, and a bed.

You glanced upward through the cracks in the floorboards; another mattress was positioned above you, but the personal effects scattered about on the bottom floor let you know this was Nick’s corner, the file folders and spare fedora on his nightstand giving it away.

You snatched the hat, twirling it over in your hands. It was one you hadn’t seen him wear too often, but that was in better condition than the one he sported on the regular, having the bold idea to place it directly on your head.

Of course, there was no mirror to admire yourself in.

You would just have to use your imagination, skimming the rim with two fingers, just like Valentine. You tipped the brim to no one, spinning once to let the full skirt of your pre-war dress swirl around your calves. Feeling pretty, you plopped down gracefully on Nick’s bare bed, wondering if Arturo might have a spare set of sheets you could gift him—did Synths sleep, you wondered? Did Nick lie here awake at night, staring at this same ceiling as you were now?

You sighed, tipping the hat lower, catching onto the unusual scent embedded within its fibers. You pressed your nose against faded leather, inhaling deeply of this strange fragrance, idly twisting bits of clean cotton, not used to wearing something so delicate and fancy; it felt odd, but the texture, the softness of the dress suited you.

This hat smelled like tobacco; ozone; coolant. Like a musty bar mixed with cigarettes. Like metal; like something organic; like wet earth after a radstorm—all things that in combination were uniquely Nick. It pulled a sigh from your lungs, loins aching for the Synth worse than ever, wishing that Valentine might show himself before you chickened out.

You thought to leave the bed; unpredicted were the moves you made to hike your dress up, legs spreading open as you gathered the excess bits of skirt into a fist. You held it to the height of your navel, exposing yourself before you had any real grasp on what you were doing, sliding the palm of your hand past your waist and hips, introducing two fingers to the elastic hem of your panties.

You grinned a little grin, feeling unlike yourself; naughty, for lack of a better word, inching your way beneath its thin layer to brush against your clit. You cooed a little sound, hips gyrating gently as you got comfortable, one of your two fingers gliding down, taking up a measure of your slick.

You massaged that part of you just begging for it, pinpricks of pleasure causing your nerves to tingle as the sensation traveled, extracting a subdued moan from bowed lips. You had the nerve to giggle, entertained in more ways than one, letting Nick’s hat fall flat against your face as you breathed in deeply, working that excitable nub in slow circles, taking your time.

You were just getting started, body reacting in tandem with your touch, exhilarated beyond comprehension at this singular act of bawdy desperation. You were where you always envisioned yourself to be, though now you conjured up something else—what some might call an abject fantasy, one where you explored the body of a robotic man to your heart’s content.

Smooth, hard flesh, or pliable and soft, warm against you, or cold like ice. Exposed wires and eyes stolen from the crown’s of angels, twin halos you would kill a man to see up close. Lips too kissable for one who wasn’t human, tongue and teeth all there, or between your legs. Metallic fingers, dexterous and nimble, the other good for groping all your biologic parts.

You were so close already, wondering if you might in some way be able to please him back. Would he have a cock you could stroke or suck? Could you dig around inside him? Could you find a button, or perhaps a jumble of loose wires to fondle, one that would make his machine-parts whir?

You covered your face more thoroughly with one arm, the fedora hiding you from your own shame. You pushed your hips into the bed as you felt the onset of an orgasm building in the seat of your belly, almost there, almost—

“Say, am I interrupting something?”

You practically screamed, throwing the fedora off with such speed it hit the bed and bounced. You shoved your dress down, embarrassed beyond belief, mortified as much as you were frightened, your heart racing as you pushed up off the Nick’s mattress and ran for the stairs. He had been so quiet—maybe there was a way out of here, up there. You would never live this down.

“Hey, now,” Nick chided, his voice taking on an austere quality that caused a bout of horripilation, the micro hairs on your arms standing at attention; the Synth had locked the fingers of his good hand around your wrist, pulling you back down to his level before pressing your body against the wall of his abode. He tilted his head, studying you with rapt attention and an almost morbid curiosity—he doubted you were some kind of adrenaline junkie, or even an exhibitionist for that matter.

“You think you can just waltz in here and use my bed to pleasure yourself without some kind of explanation? I’ve seen some things in my day, but this takes the cake.”

You could not face him, averting your eyes. His accusatory gaze was powerful, the catalyst for your tears, tiny droplets threatening to roll down your cheeks as you stammered a reply. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean t—”

“—You didn’t mean to masturbate?” Nick questioned, a sardonic tone lacing his old-world, Midwestern accent. “I find that hard to believe.”

There was a pause, Nick’s metallic fingers grasping you by the point of your chin. He gently guided you to face him, tears and all, his voice softening as he realized how sorry you seemed to be, though he was still skeptical.

He called you by your name, addressing you calmly, “at least be honest with me—this how you get your rocks off, or is this some kind of special occasion? If Ellie was here—”

“—she was the only who let me in,” you whispered, Nick so tantalizingly close, yet you were beside yourself in self-abasing horror at your own actions—how could you have been so stupid!? Of course he would find out, sooner or later—he was a private eye, a damn good one! Not to mention this was his place of business, his assistant trusting you well enough to behave yourself. You suddenly felt worse than before; you were sure he had seen everything.

“Huh,” Nick snorted, the gears of his artificial brain beginning to turn toward another direction. “Why the hell would she go and do a thing like that?"

You took a breath and gulped, finally having the courage to look, to get lost in the depths of  those parhelic circles he called eyes, wishing to speak, to find the right words, yet it was nearly impossible with the way he had so easily ensnared you.

“Cat got your tongue? Beginning to wonder just how many lights are on upstair—"

You steeled yourself; you kissed him rather than giving an explanation, wondering if this was another thing you would come to regret, though sparks danced behind your eyelids—worried for one moment they might be real, some side effect of physical contact—Nick forcing you off to where your back was returned to its spot against his bedroom wall.

They had been warm; his lips were warm.

“Oh, I get it now. You came here thinking you’d shoot your shot, but when I wasn’t home you got carried away in some sick fantasy, is that it? Decided to rub one out,” he derided, laying your sins out before you so coldly that your lip trembled; you struggled to break free.

“Valentine, please—"

“Could have just waited for me,” he offered; you froze with bated breath, his words having taken an unexpected turn—could he be serious, or was he simply toying with you as punishment?

“Gal like you isn’t exactly hard on the eyes…”  

“You’re not upset?” you asked breathily, chest heaving, wide, round eyes searching his for confirmation.

“Upset you thought you could get away with this,” he muttered, brushing his mouth against yours, Nick’s skeletal hand holding your chin steady. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine that he would indulge you, feeling yourself melt against the solid brick of his Diamond City home. “Not exactly a secret you fancy me; can read it all over your face, just never thought you’d have the guts to do a thing like this.”

“I couldn’t help it,” you pleaded, your own hand lifting, exploring the texture of his tattered coat, rising higher to caress the portion of his flesh still intact just below the fissure that extended beyond the brim of his hat. “Then why didn’t you say something? I only meant to tell you how you make me feel,” you whispered, eagerly returning that kiss, introducing your wet human tongue to his.

“How’s that?” he asked, ignoring the first part of your question—he wasn’t about to tell you you’d have to make the first move, he didn’t have to—his inviolate hand sliding down the dip in your waist to rest against your hip. He gave it a squeeze, aware of his own strength, applying just enough pressure to excite you, no more, no less.

“Ravenous,” you exclaimed, hiking your leg, encircling him to draw in close like you were playing the part of some wily seductress in a pre-war film. You emitted a dulcet moan, digits inching across the back of his head, taking the time to kiss Valentine more deeply in your lust.

Nick was quick, supporting your ass in his firm grip, securing your leg as he pressed his inorganic frame against yours that was supple and pliant; he met your hunger head on. “Good thing I know a trick or two.”

You shivered with anticipation, despite the Synth being almost hot to the touch. Silicone fingers disappeared up your long, flowing skirt, but only after he was sure you were both comfortably entangled.

Valentine kissed a question up the side of your neck toward lipstick-laden lips. “You wear this for me?” he asked, motioning his head toward your bartered dress.

“Y-yes,” you stammered, grasping his tie, feeding your words directly into his smug mouth. “Wanted to look pretty for you,” you conceded.

“Only thing more lovely than a bird in blue is a woman who wears her confidence like a second skin. Tell me you didn’t walk in here thinkin’ you could pull me, or are you just a nightingale pretending to be a peacock, flaunting your feathers, yet too afraid to show me your true colors?”

You were floored; you could not answer, having hoped that you could sway him, but doubting your plan from the get-go. You dare not tell him, too shy to admit your shortcomings, and too proud to acknowledge he had hit the nail on the head. Instead, you stared unabashedly, even as your cheeks burned, swallowing down the knot in your throat as you remained transfixed on eyes that glowed like candles in the dark.

“Too bad,” Valentine teased, rousing you from your stupor by way of calculated movements beneath your dress, “Suppose I’ll have to find out the hard way.”

Your breath hitched as the tips of faux fingers thoughtfully guided your panties to one side, Valentine expertly trailing his forefinger through your excess to the top of your slit. The Synth grazed the swollen sheath of glands pulsating adamantly between your legs, finding his rhythm, administering just enough friction to get a rise out of you, as intended.

“Nick,” you gasped, the fingers of one hand still cinched around his tie as the fingers of the other clawed into false flesh. He slid back down, following that happy little trail of slickness, its viscosity registering as wet against microscopic sensors, Nick’s index finger delving into something so moist, so soft.

“Speak to me, sweetheart. Tell me how long you’ve dreamt of this; tell me this isn’t some dime-store hookup you’re using to scratch an itch; tell me this means somethin’, I dare you,” he growled darkly into your ear.

You could only whimper as he worked you, aiming for the seat of your pleasure, Nick’s thumb running concentric circles around your turgid clit in perfect unison with that part of him that was introducing pressure to your G-spot. You had the gall to rock your hips, balancing like a flamingo on one leg, though he held you close between himself and the wall, not once allowing you to think you might stumble and fall.

“Always think of you, where you are, what you’re up to,” you breathed. “Never leave my mind.”

“What else?” he asked, brazenly steeping another finger, your soaked cunt riding both together as you shamelessly kept undulating your pelvic arch, already so near to climax.

“Dreamt of kissing you, making love to you. Wanted to know what touching you might feel like, warm, co-cold,” you moaned. “If you could ever want me back, if y-you knew just how much I adore you, how much I wish to be the one to make you smile…”

“Is that right?” Nick titillated you toward orgasm without any extra effort, feeling yourself spill out all over him as you vocalized to the heavens, Valentine not relenting until you were spent. Then, he retracted as simple as that, lifting you up, the Synth forcing you to wrap that other leg around him in order to carry you the few feet between him and the bed.

“And did you ever think of what you’d do if I didn’t have the parts?” he began, tossing you carefully onto the mattress. You watched in longing as he shucked his trench off for it to slide down the length of his arms, gathering in a pile at his feet.

“Fuck. It wouldn’t matter,” you insisted, sitting up on the palms of your hands. “It wouldn’t matter,” you repeated more urgently, adjusting to crawl forward, unable to keep yourself from him now that you had a taste.

“And what you’d do if I didn’t reciprocate?” The hat was next, tossed haphazardly off to the side.

You gaped at him, unable to come up with a satisfactory response, scouring his pleasing form from head to toe with your eyes, admiring his shoulder holster, his weapon of choice, and the suspenders that dug into his shoulders.

“I’m more machine than man; typically… disappointing to dames like you. But I’ve got nothing to hide, and I mean that literally,” he quipped, loosening and discarding his tie. What he did next surprised you, Valentine placing one knee on the bed. He pushed you backward, fitting himself right between your thighs.

“Never stopped me before,” he muttered, coercing you to lie back. In the blink of an eye, he had slipped your panties down and off, flipping the tail end of your skirt up and over your lap, exposing the soft mound between your legs.

“It’s like riding a bicycle,” he commented; how to go down on a beautiful woman was not something he would soon forget, no matter he wasn’t in the body he was born with.

You gasped before settling into a melodious moan as he swiped his tongue across your sensitive bud, Nick noticing you were tuned to the key of C, a low-frequency tonal sound that made his robotic brain buzz with something akin to happiness.

Before you knew it, he had buried himself, embedding his articulate tongue in your tepid core. Responsive biosensors did their job of transmitting physiological data concerning the presence of chemical compounds that happened to be coming into contact with his face; the detective was well aware of what that meant without having to overthink it, appreciative of the way you writhed against the bed.

“Valentine,” you mewled, arm reaching, fingers stretching to caress a hinged jaw made of filaments and wires, more unbidden tears finding their way to your eyes.

“Kiss me,” you implored, exploring the sharp contours of his inhumane face, the actuate planes and angles, the rough textures, the smooth remnants, the electrical undercurrent that hummed beneath the surface of his pseudo-flesh, causing you to cry out as he obliged, but not in the way you had expected.

Nick lapped at your cunt like it was a second mouth, attentive to every little move your body made as it wriggled and quivered, spasming with each long lick. He showed no mercy, relentlessly fucking you with his spongy tongue at a slow and steady pace, brushing the back of an alloyed finger along the cut where hip met thigh.

“Please,” you tried again, though in your heart of hearts you did not want him to stop. He refocused on your clit, being oh-so careful as he slid a single metallic digit into your wet pith, tensile fibers remaining elongated so as not to maim and injure, but to experiment, your pelvic muscles clenching around him as he began to suck.

“I can’t,” you professed, unable to elaborate, to stop your mounting orgasm. Your back arched as your hips bucked upward to meet his all too talented mouth, forcing a sound out of you that was reminiscent of pain but indicative of pleasure as you came a second time that night, Nick withdrawing his hand, his carbon-ferrous finger, pulling back to look you in the eye.

“Sweetheart, did I—”

Valentine flexed his unsheathed digits, composed of bare metal, his forefinger saturated and glistening, yet he was worried. His painted brows quirked upward as he rose to meet your face, his palm fitting itself around the curve of your waist, as gentle as can be.

He stared into your soul with those penetrative, aureate eyes, wishing you hadn’t of done that. Wishing he hadn’t of done that—it had been just plain ignorant on his part, but he didn’t figure you’d go and move so suddenly. And truth be told, you were beautiful, a thing too good to pass up. He wasn’t exactly a hot commodity these days, though a part of him—the inhuman part—didn’t think he was worth it.

Still, it was a difficult thing to just give up when he had urges, needs, wants, desires—or at least he thought he did. It was hard to tell where the real Nick began and Synth Nick ended, but for now he was experiencing an emotion that was real enough to give him pause.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his mood turning toward something serious, Valentine wondering if he had caused anything irreparable. He didn’t think he could live with himself if he’d gone and hurt an innocent—especially like this—despite the fact he wasn’t exactly alive to begin with.

You did not answer, studying the change in his demeanor, observing as his tough guy persona disappeared to be replaced by the sweet, caring man you had grown to cherish over the past few months.

He was two sides of the same coin, but you had known that going in, purposefully trailing your fingers across denuded metal toward a gathering of thick red wires, caressing the coils between the gap in his neck with the utmost tenderness.

“I’ve never been better,” you promised, appraising the look of quiet bliss that overtook him, realizing this sort of thing might be his little secret—he came back to himself just in time to put a halt to your investigation, the Synth oddly silent as he searched for something deep within your eyes.

“But I want to make you feel good,” you offered with a genuine pout, but Nick held fast to your wrist, going back to how this whole game had started. His apprehension was clear, the detective reading like an overdue library book. You couldn’t help but feel a little sad, a little disappointed, instead climbing onto his lap, draping yourself over his sound thighs.

“I don’t let just anyone poke around inside me—what makes you think you’ll make the cut?” he asked, slipping a stray bit of hair behind your ear in a gesture so human it made your heart ache.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Nick.” It was the truth.

He’d redirect you for now, but you couldn’t blame him— you were surprised that you had even gotten this far.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he replied. “Tell me something about yourself. What do I need to know besides exactly how you taste?”

You smiled, assuming that one day he might trust you well enough to return the favor.

Baby steps. You could be patient. The only thing that mattered was that at that moment, you had him to yourself.

“I once killed a Yao guai with my bear hands,” you joked, taking the time to notice just how many kiss marks you had left all over him—time to add one more, just to play it safe.

“There they are.”

“What?”

“Your true colors.”

Your lips spread into a mischievous grin.

“On second thought, I think I’m going to need a drink for this.”

At least he hadn’t kicked you out yet.  

“That’s fair,” you said.

[ctheathy]

HI again! I was wondering if you could do a flippy+fliqpy x reader who is very kind and sweet to him and just gives him the love he MOST DEFF deserves? already dating headcannons if your able to

Flippy+Fliqpy w/ Sweetheart!Darling

Flippy x Reader x Fliqpy

General+Fluff Headcanons

Short Concept

Both Flippy and Fliqpy shall be kept in different sections to prevent confusion between the two as always!!

Flippy/Reader/Fliqpy [Romantic]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

PTSD symptoms [On Flippy’s part] • Mentions of war • Overworking •

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Flippy :

Honey, you and your antics are literally all the man needs in his life. I can see Flippy finding a massive amount of emotional support from you just being there for him, your presence is more than enough to cease any considered stress he might have been feeling beforehand and soften up his mood for the rest of the day. He always seems to be happy and relaxed whenever you happen to be around. You’re truly like the only comfort person the green bear has in his life. And he shall do everything in his power to make sure to keep you aware of that fact. He’ll oftentimes bring you gifts and other small items to showcase his appreciation for your constant, endearing kindness to him. As it means more to the male than words could ever tell you.

He tends to shy away from too much physical contact at times, but he’ll certainly hold your hand here and there for emotional support. Especially whenever feeling overwhelmed in the slightest, one tiny squeeze can put him back at ease. He is so internally grateful for the fact you manage to keep him stable like this, which is why he... attempts to return the favour. Flippy tries to be so incredibly gentle when it comes to you, knowing he can have quite the harsh and strong grip as a whole. But this also causes him to be slightly awkward and knowing where to put his hands and such for the longest time. You’ll have to ease him into it little by little, and that’s when he becomes a little teddybear towards you. As soon as you warm him up to it, there’s not gonna be a single moment where he doesn’t crave your touch. He’ll become slightly more clingy due to your caring and loving nature. Including giving you affection of his own. Such as caresses whenever he gets close, an arm around your shoulder, and all the many many times where he entangles his pinky finger with your own whenever on a walk; Associating it with a sense of promise.

Flippy would oftentimes offer for the both of you to go on soothing and gentle dates with one another. Picnics, skygazing, tea parties; uncomplicated deeds such as those, just wanting to go out with you without potential stressful situations. We all know Flippy here isn’t the biggest fan of activities that can result in trouble, are too noisy for his liking or may have a chance of triggering his ptsd in one way or another. He has always been haunted by the mere thought of the battlefields he faced in the past, so all he truthfully desires is a simple and familiar routine in his life where he can live without feeling the constant need to flee for his safety. He just wants an easy-peasy life with you that isn’t revolved around war and the pain of others. As the simple thought of losing you to the same incidents he has lost his peers to leaves the bear shaken up and absolutely mortified.

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Fliqpy :

Being the defense mechanism to Flippy’s trauma, it’s only natural he is going to be a lot less humane with you and more on the rough side than his merciful counterpart. But considering Flippy’s undying love for you, Fliqpy is going to be growing a soft spot of his own. Even if he tends to show you this through ... rather unique ways and means. He’s a big tease and takes any opportunity to just- bully you. You better expect a daily flick to your forehead, cause it’s going to happen. At this rate, he would pretty much do anything to just get on your nerves and get a reaction out of you. Would put down constant traps in order to just troll you. And as soon as you manage to get lured into one, he is going to be laughing at you like a madman and ridicule you for not being careful enough with your step.

Fliqpy would constantly insist and technically just force you along with the prompt that he gets to train with you and learn you the basics of self defense and combat. He’d sometimes slinger around commentary and scary suggestions that could result in similar motives for you to keep your guard up around the place. He’d teach you how to work with the more common variants of weapons for the sake of your safety, even if it happens to be against your agreement; you’ll be dragged into it whenever you have interest in it or not. These little training sessions can definitely cause you to grow overworked and exhausted rather quickly though, as Fliqpy treats you as he would a comrade back during the violent attacks of war itself.

On a sweeter note, though; you’ll probably be the only individual he can tolerate enough to share his background with. He’ll want to tell you everything he experienced in graphic detail and leave nothing out of the story. He’ll tell you about the many secrets of any vicious ambushes he and his team faced back in the day. Including what the experience can actually do to a person, leading to some more deep and serious conversational topics. With your influence, I also believe Fliqpy to grow the ability to become less hostile over time. His killings are most likely not going to take a stop, but he tends to grow the slightest bit more forbearing towards the other bystanders while being less bloodthirsty than he was before. And all because he got the experience the chance to share these horrible occurrences and traumatic events among somebody he grew a sense of trust with.

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[rocknrolldecadence]

Hiii, okay so, i've read some of your fics and i really like how you write things, so i wanted to request something fluffy with Axl. Like the reader is really stressed and worn out, so Axl is there for her and in general very sweet with her? I just want you to include lots of hand holding, hugs and kisses (maybe a massage too if you can throw it in somewhere). You don't have to do it if you don't want to, thank you in advance!

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

i’ve got you

you’re stressed, and axl knows what to do to cheer you up

warnings: alcohol and drunkenness

a/n: tysm!!! sorry this took so long, i hope you like it 😛

life had been hitting you hard recently. real hard. it seemed like no matter what you did, you couldn’t ease the stress you felt. everyday was a struggle, and oftentimes you wondered if you’d even get through a day. with everything going on in your life, it felt like you’d never get relief.

there was one thing you found solace in, though. well… one person. your boyfriend, axl. you’d think since he’s the lead singer of the band many proclaimed to be ‘the next big thing’ in the world of rock n roll, he wouldn’t be very loving or attentive. but he was the complete opposite. axl was the most kind, considerate man you knew. sure, that certainly wasn’t the image he kept up in his music or for the media, but he truly was the best person you knew. so when you went round to his place one day, he could tell something was up.

“what’s wrong, love?” he asked you as you sat down together on his sofa. it was old, and a spring loudly creaked as you sat, but you didn’t mind. there was already a glass of wine waiting for you, the decanter placed like a centrepiece between your glass and axl’s. you sighed and sipped on your drink, hesitant to answer. you felt the liquid run down your throat, warming you up from the inside out. silently, you wondered how he was able to afford it. it seemed very fancy. you met your boyfriend’s eyes and began to speak, but cut yourself off.

“you can tell me.” he encouraged, his soft tone of voice putting you at ease.

“just… life, i guess? its so tough. i feel like there’s so many things just weighing me down every day. no matter what i do, i feel so stressed. it’s like there’s no remedy for it. i don’t know what to do.” you confessed. you knew you were safe to tell axl anything. that was what you liked about him - he always made you feel valued and not like you were crazy.

axl listened intently as you vented to him. when you were done, he grabbed you softly and pulled you into a hug, pressing a light kiss on your cheek. the combined smell of tobacco and wine putting you at ease. you let yourself sink into him, and slowly but surely, you began to cry. tears dripped down your face and were absorbed into axl’s shirt. he held you tighter, letting you get your emotions out.

“i’ve got you. don’t worry.” he reassured you as you cried. you stayed like that for a while with him, just holding onto eachother wordlessly. it felt like the world had stopped. you didn’t know how long you ended up sitting on that dingy sofa together, but it was insanely comforting. soon you started to feel better. but then axl had an idea.

“how about we go get some drinks?”

“oh, axl, i don’t kno-”

“think about it. we’ll walk down, sit and have a few, and then we can come back here and sleep. does that not sound good to you?” he said to you. you tossed the idea around in your head before eventually agreeing. why not? it’d be fun.

you got yourself ready with the few supplies you always left at axl’s place. once you were ready, you left with him and started to walk to the nearest bar to his place. subtly, he linked your hand with his, intertwining your fingers together. it made you blush. you and axl had been together for a long time now, but whenever he did small things like that, it still had you reacting like you did at the start of your relationship.

it was a short enough walk to the bar. you sat down on a stool beside axl. it wasn’t very busy, so you got served right away. the bartender took your orders and you both got them quickly. as you sipped away at your drink, you and your boyfriend quietly chatted. after a while he asked, “how you feeling now?”

“i’m okay,” you answered, “feeling better than before, anyway.”

“i’m glad. i hate seeing you so upset, darling.”

you smiled and the two of you fell back into what you were talking about before. as the hours passed, the bar filled up more and more, until you could barely hear what axl was saying to you. so, when you finished your drinks, you paid and left. your tipsiness had you stumbling slightly as you walked back. axl reached out his arm and you leant on him. you giggled at the close contact. he was warm. comforting. and you wanted to tell him so.

“hey, axl.” you said suddenly, stopping under a street lamp.

he turned to look at you and stopped too. “yeah?”

“thanks for tonight. you always know what to do to make me feel better. love you.”

he smiled. “i love you too, baby.”

and with that, he grabbed you and kissed you, disregarding the cars that sped past on the road beside you. you kissed him back, leaning into his embrace.

[asimplearchivist]

𝓑𝓻𝓾𝓲𝓼𝓮

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ marc doesn't like it when you get hurt, even by accident. pairing(s) ☽ marc spector/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 1.4k a/n ☽ ⤏ my third entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. this takes place post-chapter iii. ⤏ reminding myself that it's okay to keep things short and sweet sometimes. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY ☽

You didn’t notice it until Marc’s thumb compressed the unexpectedly tender flesh just above the joint of your elbow, drawing a sharp yelp from your throat more from surprise than from pain. “Where did you pick that up?”

It was commonplace for you to shower with the boys after getting home from work for the evening, a habit started during one of Steven’s clingier stints months prior when you’d first begun to stay over at their apartment.

You shared that trait, occasionally wanting as much physical closeness with your significant other(s) as reasonably possible to disperse the nasty thoughts or melancholic feelings that would crop up in the back of your mind despite your best efforts. It helped significantly—to that you could attest. On the plus side, washing each other with gentle touches, indulging yourselves in amorous affections (those of which oftentimes got carried away to both of your benefit), and just having someone you fully trusted in such close proximity at your most vulnerable satisfied that once nagging loneliness that used to daily plague your greater consciousness into something far more manageable and docile. You had found your person (...people?), and you could rest assured that they would be there for you always—even at the times when you could scarcely summon the strength to raise your hands to wash your hair.

Marc had started to replicate that tendency soon after Steven’s initial timid request, claiming that conserving water saved money spent on utilities, but you knew better than that—you knew him better than that. You knew that he struggled to verbalize his needs and found it easier to disguise his self-determined ‘weaknesses’ under sensuality laced with practicality. He would often wait until you got ready to shower to join you. You figured that he suspected you knew his ‘accidental’ brushes and bumps and noticeably slow reach-arounds weren’t exactly accidental, but you decided not to comment upon it. You certainly didn’t want to dissuade one of the sole outlets of casual physicality he allowed himself outside of the bedroom.

So when you’d trudged into the apartment with takeout in hand that night, sleeves soaked in coffee because you’d bumped into one of the newbies while going to dump out the pot in the sink, Marc had immediately stood up from the couch to take the sacks. He’d tucked them into the microwave so he could reheat them later before escorting you straight to the bathroom. He’d lavished you the entire time, sensing without words that you were exhausted and didn’t have much energy to move.

“Oh,” you said, looking down as he released your arm and eyeing the tender place he’d spotted despite the poor lighting in the bathroom. You pressed it lightly with your fingertips, raising a brow—you hadn’t even noticed the faintest discoloration in your own skin, as it was barely visible. Your wondering at how he even saw it didn’t last long when you realized that he’d likely been decorated with hemorrhaging most of the time since he’d joined the military and could identify them easily. “I didn’t even…huh. I must’ve hit the countertop harder than I thought.”

Marc frowned, his furrowed brow lowered over his dark eyes as he scrutinized your expression. “You fell?”

“No,” you chuckled, shaking your head as you slipped under the shower’s stream to rinse off the suds he’d lathered over your back. “New guy wasn’t watching where he was going coming out of the kitchen and I bumped into him. I was trying not to spill the coffee and stumbled. Bang, funny bone tickled, and I still got it all over myself. It hurt like a bitch, but I didn’t think I hit it that hard.”

Marc hummed, eyes dropping to your elbow as he reached for your shampoo. “Tilt your head back, baby.”

It wasn’t until later, after you’d both gotten dressed and eaten and settled into bed, that he brought it back up. “...He didn’t push you, did he?”

You cracked your eyes open despite the apartment being just short of pitch black. You rolled over to face him, twisting in his arms, and eased back enough to squint at him in the dark. The faintest illumination of street lights peeking through the windows highlighted the edges of his face, but his expression was cloaked in shadow. His tone, however—low and stern as though afraid to break the hushed, relative silence drenching the apartment—was indication enough of his dour mood.

“No,” you said carefully. “It was an accident. He’s super tall and lanky so he doesn’t always remember to check if someone’s in front of him.”

Marc’s hand spread over the small of your back, fingertips slipping beneath the hem of the t-shirt you wore, its hem having ridden up from your movements. “If he does it again, or if he tries anything…”

“He’s just an oblivious, sleep-deprived college kid, honey. He’s not out to get me.”

He grunted, wedging his other arm beneath you to leverage you against his torso. He tucked his chin over the crown of your head, his heavy sigh tickling the nape of your neck. “Can never be too careful. I never know if…you know. Someone’s hunting for old vendettas.”

You slipped your hand over his side so you could stroking soothing circles between his shoulder blades. “I’ll let you know if he gives me any trouble. I promise.” You pressed a kiss to the skin available to you while constricted within his borderline smothering embrace, which just so happened to be his clavicle. “I appreciate the concern, I really do, but you can’t worry yourself to death about me all the time. I can handle myself well enough—I think you know that better than most.”

“...I do,” he conceded reluctantly. “But it’s my job to worry.”

“And it’s also your job to trust my judgment. Trapping yourself in an endless loop of worst case scenarios doesn’t give you any more control of our lives than you already have, Marc.”

“Are you really quoting our therapist right now?”

“If that’s what it takes to get through that thick ol’ noggin of yours, then yeah.” You tapped his temple gently with the knuckle of your free hand. “All three of you make me feel the safest I ever have in my life. I know I can depend on each of you for anything I could ever ask. I’ll never forget that you’ve got my back.” You tilted your head to kiss his neck, feeling his pulse jump against your lips. “And, just for the record, you have me, too.”

“We know.” He squeezed you closer, almost crushing the air from your lungs. “I just never want to see you hurt. Again.”

You would never forget the look on his face when he fronted following the fallout of Jake cleaning up the rest of Ammit’s cult. The newly-introduced alter had patched you up already before relinquishing the body to his host, but you may as well have been bedridden in the ICU with how fervently he checked every last inch of you to make sure you were still alive. You hadn’t addressed the tears welling in his distressed eyes, and you’d only managed to calm him down by asking him to hold you so you could sleep some more. The adrenaline rush had fatigued you for a solid week afterwards and he and Steven both had hovered like mother hens.

He’d cradled you so carefully, like porcelain, mirroring the position you were in now.

“We’re careful about things,” you reminded him, “and you’ve got the god of the moon on speed dial. You can relax, Marc. I’m not going anywhere.”

He did, just so. You felt some of the tension drain from his frame the longer you touched him. At some point, he cupped a hand around the back of your head and began to thumb little circles behind your ear. The motion, combined with his rhythmic breathing, lulled you into drowsiness more effectively than melatonin ever could.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you mumbled, fighting the cusp of sleep long enough to voice your thought, “you can give me some fun bruises.”

“Tomorrow, maybe,” Marc chuckled, a raspy rumble low in his chest. “Go to sleep, baby.”

You were never one to argue with a good idea like that.