#or i spend hours drawing just to get to the part where i need to color it and realize i dont like iiiiiitttt and dont know how to render it

[cosmicporos]

What Arcane characters would gift you for Christmas!

Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Viktor, Jayce

(Semi crack Drabble… sorry for going super long with Viktor’s and Jayce’s HCs. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH)

(Jayce is Hispanic in my hc :3)

ENJOY AND HAVE FUN LOVE YALL<3

Not proofread

JINX

Hear me out… the first thing she would plan to gift you are decorated safety googles.

As a matter of fact everything she gifts you is handmade!

She knows you love to spend time with her when she’s in her workshop and the extra spare of googles she had were pretty crappy…

“Ugh, these old things? Pfft, they look like they’ve been through a freakin’ explosion… oh wait, they probably have! We gotta get you a new pair soon toots!”

They’d be totally decked out! Lots of character as she calls it.

“Okay toots check it out! Maximum protection but most importantly! They got style!”

The googles themselves would be in her classic style, very colorful paint, cute little heart scribbles all around! And of course lots of glitter….

“"I mean, you've got to stay safe while causing mayhem, right? And hey, if we're blowing stuff up together, you'll definitely need these. Plus, I made them perfectly for you. No one else will have goggles like these... trust me!"

I totally see her adding little handmade jewelry from her gears and spare parts, would totally make you a belt or choker out of spare bullets.

Vi

She would totally panic on what to get you for Christmas. Like what if you suddenly hate the thing you’ve loved since the very beginning she’s known you???

Would end up both buying and making you something!

She’s make you something small but meaningful

“Okay Okay fine! You can open mine now. Just don’t laugh too hard Cupcake…”

You’d open the poorly wrapped gift to uncover a bright pink scarf she knitted you! The stitching is a mess.. there a hole’s through the project (no doubt a missed stitch) but in all honesty it so cute you feel like your heart might explode.

"Yeah, I know I'm not, uh, the best at this kind of thing," she mutters, scratching the back of her neck, "but I figured you could use something to keep warm... and, you know, 'cause it's winter. And... you're important to me."

Guys please tell her she did an amazing job PLEASE.

She would also totally buy you a pair of combat boots! Totally saved up for months in advance.

She loves the idea of being able to match and have a bit of her style on you!

Ekko

Just like Jinx (sobs) he’d also make something for you!

The first thing he’d give you would be a little sketch book full of drawings of you from random moments throughout your relationship he remembers oh so clearly.

"I've been working on it for a while... It's... it's just a bunch of drawings. I mean, not just anything. Stuff that made me think of you. Stuff we've done, or things I hope we do. I don't know, it just felt like the best way to show how I feel about... well, us."

Okay he would also totally make you matching jewelry (matching clock hand necklaces?)

You’d force him to take the hour hand since it’s shorter (heheheh little man)

Once you explain your reasoning as to why he should take the smaller one he sighs disappointedly…

"Okay, okay, I get it," he finally says, a little less playful now, his voice softening. "I guess if you want me to wear it, I can..."

Then, a grin creeps back onto his face as he adds, "But don't think I'm letting you off the hook with the minute hand. You're wearing that one for sure." He places the hour hand necklace around his neck, the smaller pendant resting there, and looks up at you with that mischievous gleam in his eye.

He pauses, holding up his necklace, "I'm still the one with the bigger job. You'll just have to keep up." A proud smug smirk now rests on his face.

Viktor

FUCK WHERE DO I BEGIN I LOVE THIS MAN

o k a y. He would just like Vi panic… not because he doesn’t know what to get you but because he totally is going Christmas shopping late… very very late.

As much as I would love to say he’d make some little invention to make your day easier and give it to you for Christmas I don’t see it happening.

Not because he wouldn’t do it but because he already does it all the time! A little example, you’re late for work often? A little robot that hits you with a plastic squishy hammer every morning at 7 am waking you up when he can’t!

He’d definitely want to make Christmas special, I see him buying you something and then doing something special for you too!

Christmas morning would be greeted with warm hugs and kisses along with an even warmer bowl of potato soup!

He wanted to make sure he perfected his mother’s Bramboračka recipe. It was a once a year meal him and his mother shared every Christmas day.

He’s not a good cook by any means… but this is the one dish he can make and oh boy can he make it.

"Don't expect perfection," he says with a small, self-conscious smile, as you catch him sneaking a taste of the soup. Viktor looks up, his gaze softening. "I hope you like it," he says, and despite his usual perfectionism, there's a quiet pride in his voice. You take a sip, and the rich flavors of mushrooms, potatoes, and herbs immediately comfort you, just like his mother's love must've comforted him all those years ago.

OKAY for the making gift he planned I see him commissioning something due to the fact a lot of his inventions lack aesthetics.

Specifically I see him commissioning a music box that functions as a a jewelry box as well! He would have loved to make it himself but he was worried he wouldn’t have gotten the look right.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his voice softer than usual, as if he's worried about the reception. "I had it made... I thought... it might remind you of us."

The detail was breathtaking-floral patterns etched into the surface, with tiny gears and delicate metalwork accenting the edges. The craftsmanship was stunning, and you couldn't help but run your fingers over the smooth finish.

you lifted the lid, and a gentle, lilting melody began to play. It was slow and sweet, a tune that felt timeless, and as you stared at the tiny figurines inside, your breath caught.

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his cane, his gaze flicking between you and the music box. "I commissioned it," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I had the craftsman use a sketch I made. It's how I see us... in my mind. How I feel when I hold you." He paused, his expression softening. "I thought... I thought you deserved something that would remind you of that. Of... how much you mean to me."

Jayce

Oh hon… Jayce would spoil you rotten.

I’m talking presents are overflowing underneath the tree.

You thought you lost your favorite piece of clothing? WRONG! He commissioned for more to be made in different colors and textures for you.

All the fragrances in the world he knew you would enjoy.

Cozy adorable pajamas we would give you Christmas morning so you could cuddle up drinking hot chocolate.

Spends Christmas Eve spoiling you and cuddling and being so tooth rottenly sweet.

It’s Christmas Eve, the scene was almost overwhelming. The living room looked like a perfectly curated holiday catalog-twinkling lights, a roaring fireplace, and, of course, an absurd number of gifts. Jayce sat cross-legged beside the tree, an excited grin lighting up his face as he handed you the first box. He had merely grinned, sheepish yet unrepentant. "What can I say? I got carried away?.”

"Open this one first," he urged, nearly vibrating with excitement. Inside was a bottle of an exquisite fragrance, the glass etched with delicate, swirling designs. It smelled divine-rich, warm, and entirely you.

"I figured you'd like that," he said eyes carefully watching everyone expression you make. You swear if he had a tail it would be swishing uncontrollably right now.

Christmas Day would be you spending Christmas day at his mother’s house!

(Listen I’m hc them as hispanic because for one HIS MOMS NAME HIS XIMENA… and two because why not :3 )

You have a great relationship with his Mother, she absolutely adores you and sees you as her daughter.

There’s lots of yummy food she’s prepared… perhaps too much for just 3 people?

Nonetheless, a pot of pozole, tamales de puerco and de dulce! And of course she made jayce’s favorite choco flan!

God she urges to to eat until you nearly pop! You have to undo your belt by the end of the night…

"Come, sit!" his mom insisted, pulling out a chair for you. "Jayce told me you've never had my tamales. That's a crime! Here, start with this." She placed one on your plate, her eyes twinkling.

Jayce sat beside you, his grin widening as you took your first bite. "Good, right?" he asked, nudging you playfully.

You could only nod, savoring the perfectly seasoned masa and tender filling.

Later in the evening, when everyone was too full to move, Jayce leaned over and slipped his hand into yours. His eyes were soft, his voice low as he said, "I'm glad you're here. This—" he gestured to the lively scene around you, "—feels perfect with you."

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas Day 23: Eve of Revelations

Character: Elliott Marston (Quigley Down Under), Judge Turpin (Sweeney Todd) Relationship(s): Turpin/Mary (OC), Elliott/Mary (OC) Warnings: kidnapping, loss/grief, moving on

Based on The Eternal Summer and Part 2 to Shivering Certainty

Read on Ao3 or below:

When Mary opened her eyes, everything was black.

That wasn’t right. Even in the dead of night, a sliver of moonlight should be visible.

She tried to lift her head from the pillow, and it was then that she realised… she wasn’t lying on a pillow. In fact — she wasn’t even lying down. She was sitting. And…

Oh, no.

She tried to move, but she was stuck. She was tied down. And everything was black because there was some sort of blindfold over her eyes.

She tried to cry out, but realised her mouth was taped shut, and she was breathing through her nose.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t even check her belly.

Mary tried to calm herself as she focused her attention on how she felt inside. She didn’t seem to be in pain, only discomfort. And baby Elliott was definitely still there, she could feel him pressing against her organs; she wished that he would kick, just so she could know he was okay.

She tried to remember something, anything, about how she got there, but she was drawing a blank. The last thing she remembered, Turpin had been working late again, or so Mary had assumed when he didn’t come back from court at his usual time — he often worked late, although he usually sent word that he’d be doing so. She hadn’t heard anything from him.

After eating dinner alone, Mary had gone up to her workshop, and found Elliott waiting there for her. She tried to get some sewing done, but he was so distracting, she barely touched the dress she’d been making for herself to accommodate her growing belly.

Eventually, she’d given up trying to get any work done, and ended up curled up in bed with Elliott, who seemed to spend more time talking to his son through her belly than he did her. Not that Mary minded - she was just glad he was still there. Every time he disappeared, she feared he wouldn’t come back again. She was perfectly content to drift off to sleep, listening to Elliott’s soothing voice as he told baby Elliott his favourite stories about the American West.

That was the last thing she remembered. Laying in her husband’s bed as her dead lover’s ghost told stories of far off lands to their unborn son… she must have fallen asleep, and then… this.

She was cold, she realised as she shivered.

A blanket was dropped around her shoulders.

There was someone there!

“Who’s there?!” Mary tried to exclaim, but thanks to the tape over her mouth, all that came out was a muffled cry.

Nobody replied. She tried to listen, but she heard no footsteps. There must be someone there, unless the blanket had been dropped by a ghost!

Well… it wouldn’t be the first time a ghost had given her something to keep her warm.

Elliott! Mary thought desperately. If her need for him had brought his ghost to her before, could it happen again? Elliott, please, please, come and save me. I don’t know where I am. Please find me.

He had promised to protect her, to keep her safe. He had sworn it on his own mother’s grave. She needed him now, so where was he?!

Time passed strangely. Mary had no way of knowing how long it had been. Had it been five minutes, five hours, five days? It couldn’t have been that long, she hadn’t had any food or water, she’d never have lasted that long.

She was hungry. Baby Elliott was hungry. She could feel him wriggling around impatiently, as if to say, Feed me, Mummy!

If only whoever had taken her would take the tape off her mouth. She wouldn’t scream, only ask for some food, if not for herself then for him. She was almost six months pregnant, her belly was obvious — surely her captors wouldn’t be so heartless as to starve a pregnant woman?

Speaking of her captors - she’d neither heard nor felt anything from them since the blanket had appeared around her shoulders. Whatever reason they had for holding her here, it didn’t seem to be with the intent of harming her.

Still… she shuddered to think what they could do when she was so helpless. She had nothing, no way to defend herself, no one to defend her.

Where are you, Elliott? Mary pleaded internally. Why didn’t you protect me like you promised? If I was taken from my bed, where were you?

Baby Elliott was kicking now. Mary grunted slightly as a well-placed kick collided directly with her bladder. Great, now she needed to pee too.

If her captors were in the room, they didn’t seem to care for her evident discomfort.

But she’d heard nothing. Maybe she was alone.

She tried to manoeuvre her chair. She had no idea if she was near a wall or anything useful, but she had to try something.

One of the legs wobbled, threatening to topple over, and Mary quickly ceased her movements. She didn’t want to risk falling and hurting her baby.

All she had left was to scream. She knew she couldn’t make much noise with her mouth taped shut, but she hoped at least her muffled cries would alert someone that she needed help.

“Mmhff! Mmm-mhf-mhhh!”

She swung her head around, hoping maybe she could catch the corner of the tape on something and loosen it, but she had no luck. All she could find was her own shoulder.

She tried pushing against the tape with her tongue, but all that gave her was a nasty taste of tape glue.

Elliott, please, she begged, tears beginning to stream from her eyes. Elliott, where are you? Please, I need you…

Her silent prayers unanswered, Mary began to cry. That just made things worse, because she could only breathe through her nose, so the sobs that tried to escape her throat just got caught, and she struggled to breathe when her nose began to run.

I’m going to die like this, she thought to herself with terror. I’m going to suffocate on my own tears and my son will die before he gets to breathe.

Was this really what her life had led to? After everything she’d been through, the orphanage, living on the streets, sacrificing her innocence for Tommy’s life, losing Elliott… had she really survived her own attempt on her life just to be given hope and have it taken away?

She couldn’t die like this. She wouldn’t. Someone had to come for her, eventually. Her captors hadn’t tied her up just to let her die — they needed her alive, else they’d have killed her straight away. They needed her for something.

Her sobbing subsided, Mary did her best to wipe her nose clean on the neckline of her clothing. She was definitely still wearing the nightdress she’d gone to sleep in. Her captors hadn’t undressed her. Small mercies, she supposed…

Baby Elliott kicked again.

I know, sweetheart, I know, Mary thought. I’m hungry too.

She had nothing to do but wait.

After what could have been minutes or hours or days, Mary finally heard something.

It sounded like men shouting. Heavy footsteps, running. Fighting? Or a chase? It was coming from above her. She must be in a basement of some sort.

Gunshots. She winced.

Gunshots! He was here! Elliott, he’d come to save her at last! He was up there now, gunning down anyone who stood in his path.

She heard a door open, and the shouting became suddenly clearer. Footsteps - more than one set - coming closer - down some stairs. There was a very small gap at the bottom of her blindfold - she could see a dim light creeping through.

“Elliott!” Mary tried to call out, but the tape muffled her again, so all she really said was, “Mhmhm!”

“I’ll get the rope,” said a voice, familiar, but in her daze Mary couldn’t place it.

Fingers grazed her cheek, grabbed the corner of the tape, and yanked it from her face. Mary gasped, breathing deeply, gladder than she’d ever been in her life for the luxury of air.

Next came the blindfold, and Mary squinted, her eyes sensitive to the sudden light. She instinctively turned her head away from where the light was pouring in, peering through her eyelids as she tried to adjust to the sudden light after so much darkness for so long.

Someone was untying her. Someone else cupped her face in two large hands and lifted her head.

“Mary! Mary, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“Elliott…”

There was a pause, and one of the hands left her cheek to cover her belly.

“He must be hungry. Let’s get you out of here.”

The other pair of hands finished untying Mary’s wrists, and she gratefully let herself be hoisted into the air, resting her head against the firm shoulder of her saviour.

She was carried up the stairs, her eyes still squinting as they came closer to the door. As she slowly adjusted to the light, she began to see her surroundings - they seemed to be in a house. The smaller figure - possibly the one who’d untied her, though Mary couldn’t be sure - opened the front door, and Mary was carried outside. It was night, so only the oil lamps and the moonlight illuminated the area, and by the time Mary found herself being carefully placed back on her feet, she was able to see again.

Strong hands held her shoulders firmly to keep her upright in her dazed condition.

“Mary…”

She looked up bleary-eyed, expecting to see Elliott…

“…Will?”

Turpin’s usually stoic face was lined with worry, his piercing eyes ablaze with a mixture of worry and anger.

“Did they hurt you?”

“N - no, they… they didn’t even touch me…”

“Thank the Lord,” Turpin said with a sigh of relief, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close. “I was so worried, Mary… I was ready to burn down the whole of Perth to find you.”

Mary grunted as she felt another impatient kick to her bladder.

“Elliott —”

“Yes, yes, you both must be starving. Come, let’s get you home. We’ll wake the cook and have some very early breakfast. Fletcher! Drive us home, would you?”

“Of course, m’lord,” said a man who was presumably Fletcher.

One arm firmly around Mary, Turpin guided her to a nearby police coach. Fletcher must be a constable, Mary realised.

“Taylor, come.”

A small figure caught up to them and helped Turpin aid Mary into the coach, and she realised it was Tommy.

As soon as he sat down between the two of them, Turpin wrapped his arm around Mary again, as if worried she might disappear again.

“What happened?” Mary asked, clinging onto her husband as if she, too, worried she might disappear again. “I fell asleep at home and woke up there, I couldn’t see or hear anything until you arrived…”

“Some lowlife scum with no care for women or children,” Turpin said bitterly. “A gang; it seems I sentenced one of their own to hang, and they thought they’d take their revenge by kidnapping you. I came home from court to find you gone, and a note on your pillow demanding their friend’s release before his execution on Monday, or else your life would be forfeit. Of course, I don’t bow to threats from criminal scum. I rounded up every constable in the area and had them raid every single house until we found you.”

“How long was I gone? Time seemed so confusing down there…”

“I came home at around half past nine. It’s now…”

Turpin dug out his pocketwatch with his spare hand to check the time.

“…quarter to five.”

“All night!” Mary gasped. Had he really been searching for her for seven hours?

“And all day. You were taken on Friday night, darling… it’s Sunday morning now. It may have taken even longer, but it seems your brother isn’t entirely without brains. He went to the police station and spoke to the prisoner they were so concerned about, and convinced him to reveal where you likely were.”

Mary leaned forward slightly to look at Tommy. “Is that so? What did you do, Tommy?”

Tommy shrugged. “Wasn’t much. I just said the truth. Said you’re my big sister, all I got left, and you gonna have a baby.”

“I’d already interrogated him, of course,” Turpin said, “but it seems the man was more receptive to a pleading child than the strikes of my cane.”

“And are you… going to release him? If he helped find me?”

“Heavens no! The only boon I’ll grant him is he can see his friends one more time… when they all hang together tomorrow at noon.”

“I heard gunshots…”

Turpin hummed with amusement. “Well, those that are left will hang. The ones I shot had swifter deaths.”

Mary looked up at her husband. He smiled, his relief at finding her alive still clearly etched into his features.

“How’s Elliott?”

Her heart skipped a beat. How did he know about Elliott? He couldn’t know, could he? Elliott only ever appeared when Mary was alone, disappearing when Turpin came home… and any trace of him disappeared too, clothes he’d removed vanished from the floor, her skin dry where once his seed had spilled…

And when she needed him most, he hadn’t been there.

Turpin placed a hand protectively over her belly, and laughed when his hand immediately became the recipient of a frustrated kick.

Elliott.

“He’s hungry,” Mary replied, placing her hand over her husband’s. “It seems he gets angry when he’s hungry.”

“Just like his father,” Turpin chortled. “Not to worry, little one, we’ll get you both fed soon enough.”

Mary let out a sudden sob, and Turpin looked at her in alarm.

“Is something the matter?”

She shook her head, words failing her, and instead buried her head against her husband’s chest.

“Thank you for saving me,” she breathed.

Turpin wrapped his arms around her and held her close, letting her cry in his arms.

She knew what she had to do.

Turpin was reluctant to go to church for once, but Mary insisted he go on his own. She needed rest, they both agreed that much, and he needed to tell the town she'd been found - most of the people in the church would have had constables knocking on their door the night before, searching their houses for any signs of Lord Turpin's wife, and there was no need letting them pray for her safe return when she was already home.

As a compromise, Tommy stayed home, swearing to Turpin he’d protect Mary if something happened. He respected his sister’s wish to be alone in her workshop for a while, and when he closed the door behind him, she closed her eyes and steadied her breath before turning around.

And there he was, sitting on her drawing desk, waiting for her.

“Where have you been?!” Elliott demanded, leaping to his feet before crossing the room to take her in his arms. “It’s been a day and a night!”

Mary stepped back before he could touch her, and he frowned.

“Mary? What’s wrong?”

“Where were you?” she asked in a whisper.

“…What?”

“Where were you?!”

She’d told herself not to cry, but already she was bursting into tears.

“You said you’d protect me! You promised me, El! I was kidnapped from my own bed, and you didn’t stop them! I was lost, and you didn’t find me! I begged for you to find me! I was locked up for over a day and I waited for you! I’m so mad with grief that I begged for a dead man to find me! And all that time - all that time - William was out there, looking for me, searching house to house for me! What were you doing?!”

“I’m only here when you are, darling, you know that —”

“Then what good are you? We can’t go on like this, El! I can’t go on like this! What good are secret trysts with a ghost if you can’t protect me, can’t protect our son? All I’m doing is… hanging on to something that’s gone. Because you’re gone, Elliott, you’re dead. You’re dead. You were stupid and prideful and it got you killed. And I love you, Lord do I love you, I always will. But you’re gone, and William is here, and he loves me. He loves me and he saved me, and he saved our son. Our son he thinks is his. Maybe - maybe he knows he’s yours but won’t say it. I don’t know. But I can’t… I can’t keep on like this, Elliott. I… I have to let you go.”

Elliott’s expression was unreadable. If he was hurt, angry, Mary couldn’t tell. But he certainly didn’t seem surprised.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Mary sobbed. She threw herself into his arms, clutching him desperately. “No, I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay, I want you to live, I want you to be my husband and give me a dozen children.”

Elliott’s hand cradled her head, his thumb stroking her hair lovingly.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I know.”

Mary sniffed and straightened up to look at him. She drank in the sight of him, memorising every inch of his face, the amber eyes, the little crease between his eyebrows, his wonky bottom tooth, the precisely shaped moustache and goatee that used to tickle her when they kissed.

“I love you,” Elliott said.

Mary nodded as the tears fell down her cheeks.

“And I love you. But you can’t stay.”

Elliott took her face in his hands and kissed her like it was his final breath.

When their lips parted, both their faces were stained with tears, and Mary knew it would be the last.

“I’ll always be with you, Mary,” he promised, placing a hand over her belly. “I know you’ll take care of him.”

“Of course I will. He’s you.”

His hands fell away from her, and she closed her eyes, wiping the tears from her face.

When she looked up again, he was gone.

She placed a hand over her belly. Elliott kicked.

Mary smiled.

Maybe he wasn’t so dead after all.

[lucaanis]

bro why does my art suck SO bad lately. i cant take it anymore!!!!!!!!

[quitedisastrous]

remembering that i really like the theorizer's videos

[anxiousbabybird]

Love and Deepspace men x fem!reader slightly unhinged and NSFW HCs, PART 2!

Once again, minors do not interact! I made you guys a part 2 of my current thoughts. No plot or card spoilers in my comments or reblogs, please and thank you 💙

Part 1

Rafayel

Have you met this man? He wants to know where you’re at and who you’re with at all times. So jealous. It’s probably in your best interest to forget other men exist once you’re dating him

Convinced you to suck his dick while he’s painting to see if it helps convey emotion into his painting—he accidentally pushed the paintbrush through the canvas when he came

Loves when you ride him—it’s so cute watching you bounce on him and use his body for your own pleasure. This also allows him to sit back a little and enjoy every sound you make, every facial expression, every feeling. Of course he does eventually get bored and flips you onto your back for his turn

Before you’re dating, he persuades you into being a nude model for him. He takes his time caressing your skin and telling you he has to “feel” the art, lets his hands wander and linger as he moves your body little by little until you’re in the exact position he wanted. Spends hours staring at your naked body, pretending to draw it (he finished his sketch hours ago but he doesn’t want you getting dressed yet)

Kinks/fetishes: biting, marking, breeding, spit, primal, spanking, mirror sex, praise, wax, shibari, choking, exhibitionism

Loves a pussy job—just sliding his cock between your folds and tapping at your clit like he’s knocking on a door until he cums all over you. Loves this for two reasons: 1) you look exquisite with your clit swollen and body spattered in cum, and 2) the banter between the two of you during a pussy job is top tier. It’s not quite degradation, but you’re both going back and forth in the most teasing way, riling each other up.

Has the biggest praise kink. He thinks he might actually die if you don’t tell him how amazing he is at least 12 times a day

Part of the pretty dick club. It’s actually perfect—thick but not too thick, long but not too long, nice veins wrapping around and well groomed at the base. Some would say it’s perfect.

Xavier

Sometimes when he’s flustered by you, his body emits a soft glow because of his evol. You notice it for the first time when you surprise him with a kiss to his cheek. He glows a little brighter the first time he kisses your lips too.

He’s fallen asleep during sex before. Usually after several rounds, he’s cum twice already, and you’re laying on your sides on the bed and he’s lazily thrusting into you from behind and all of a sudden he stops. Sheathed inside you and an arm around your waist. When you look over your shoulder, he’s sounds asleep and already softly snoring. You have no choice but to do the same, falling asleep in his arms and keeping his cock nice and warm all night

His favorite position is missionary where your legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s slowly, deeply thrusting into you. He likes seeing every expression on your face, really feeling you sucking him in, hearing every breathy moan you try to hide from him. And he likes that he can kiss you whenever he wants

Likes to read at night, even though he falls asleep doing it. When you start staying nights at his place, he convinces you to read out loud to him and you do that every night until he falls asleep with his head on your chest.

Kinks/fetishes: hair pulling (he likes when you give a little tug), overstimulation, marking, cum play, face sitting, cockwarming

Loves fresh flowers and brings you new ones every week. He thinks they’re pretty and hopes you appreciate them the way he does. Sometimes he buys them or sometimes he picks them from some lush patch in the forest. Always takes some for himself so he knows when they start dying and he needs to get you new ones.

Loves to lay his head in your lap so you can play with his hair

The kind of guy who will keep his hand holding yours no matter what because he wants to make sure you’re staying beside him. Sometimes takes one of your hands and puts it in the pocket of his sweatshirt with his just so it stays warm.

Zayne

He was very opposed to fucking in the hospital at first but then on a day he was super stressed, you stopped by and sucked him off under his desk while he reviewed charts and he was able to successfully perform a surgery other doctors thought was inoperable—he was more lenient on sex in the hospital after that

Kinks/fetishes: size kink, spanking, brat taming, choking, degradative praise, impact (spanking/flogging/paddle), breeding, edging/denial, thigh riding, dirty talk

Has absolutely bent you over his knee to spank you when you’re being a brat and talking back to him all the time with no regard for your own well being. All he wants is to take care of you because you never take care of yourself. And he would take the best care of you.

Cunt smacks. No further explanation needed.

Favorite sex position is prone bone. He likes hitting it from the back because sometimes the prolonged eye contact that can come with facing each other makes him uncomfortable. But doggy style isn’t what he wants because he wants to feel your body against his, holds you as close as possible. This position works best because every inch of him is atop you and he can feel your body there beneath him, he gets to tuck his head into your neck to bite or kiss or moan into, he’s close to your ear and can whisper filthy things or tell you how close he is or how good you feel around him, and most of all, this position has him so fucking deep inside you that he swore nothing in this life felt better the first time he entered you in this way

Allergic to saying nice things to you 98% of the time.

He runs cold because of his evol and sometimes when he cums, it feels like ice inside of you. Made you scream in surprise the first time but leads to some fun temperature play where he uses his tongue to warm you up after. He’s also often cold and loves to curl up against you and tell you that you’re his heater.

#ThickDickClub

@luffysprincess @seraphofthesimps @adaurielle

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (44/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Let's get this party started!

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of previous smut), alcohol consumption, slight jealousy, a kiss

Word Count: 3.6k

series masterlist

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A/N: we love girls girls. happy Sunday to everyone! feedback is appreciated!

Your little heels click on the asphalt of the streets of Monaco as Kika and you walk towards the club, arms hooked and cheeks warm from the wine. Cold wind blows in your faces. 

“I was so happy when Charles invited us to come with you,” Kika smiles and lays her head on your shoulder, which is certainly quite uncomfortable due to your uneven pace. But she doesn't seem to care. 

You rest your cheek against her top of her head. "I didn't even know that you were coming tonight until a few hours ago," you say. 

“He apparently only messaged Pierre today and asked,” the Portuguese woman says, lifting her head from your shoulder. "Very spontaneous. But all the better that it worked.”

You smile at her. "That's true.���

Together you turn a corner and immediately the club on the other side of the street catches your eye. Neon signs, which somehow don't fit with the rest of the city's atmosphere, draw attention to the building and the closer you get, the louder the music seems to get, penetrating through the walls. A few people are standing in front of the double doors, guarded by security guards dressed in black, discussing admission. 

When you see the clipboards in the hands of the broad-built men, you stop abruptly, causing Kika to almost trip and bump into you. 

“Are you okay? What's wrong?” she asks, looking at you in confusion. 

Nervously, you nod in the direction of the club. ”They have clipboards.”

Kika looks at the bouncers and then back at you. “No shit, Sherlock. That's where the guest list is,” she replies and tries to pull you a little further. “Why are you stopping? Have you changed your mind? Don't you want to party?”

“Yes, I do,” you reply hesitantly. “But how do we get in there if they have a guest list?”

A grin spreads across Kika's beautiful face before she puts her arm around you and pushes you forward. “Do you really doubt that we'll get in?” she asks, and when she catches your nervous glance, she pulls you closer. “You were invited by a Formula 1 driver, querida. You're the last person who needs to worry.”

As you cross the street and stand behind the people who are still arguing with the bouncers, you realize how different your life seems to be now. 

Ten days ago, you were worried about how you would pay your rent if you didn't find a job – and now you're spending nights on yachts, your best friend is a model and you're partying with Formula 1 drivers in Monaco's most chic clubs. And you're even living with one of them.

And you love him too. 

The bouncers don't seem to be giving in, and the more unyielding they look, the more annoyed the men in their black suits appear. As people try to negotiate their entry and wave banknotes in their hands, the men look past them and nod to you. 

Without hesitation, Kika pulls you through the crowd and comes to a stop in front of the entrance doors. She is about to open her mouth when one of the bouncers takes a step to the side and smiles at you. “Good evening, ladies,” he says in a deep voice, holding the door open for you. “Mr. Norris is expecting you.”

“Thank you very much,” Kika replies with a broad smile, quickly pulling you along behind her so that you can only say a quiet ‘thank you’ to the two men before the club's double doors close behind you and you are enveloped in dim light, warm air and music that gets louder with every step you take. 

“See? That wasn't so hard,” your friend grins, and together you walk down a short hallway before entering a large room. To your left are a few seating areas on an ampore, some open and others roped off. To your right is a long bar stretching across the room, with lots of people already gathered around it. And right in front of you – there's the dance floor. 

At the back is the DJ booth, currently manned by a woman who seems to know exactly what the crowd wants to hear. With precision and skill, she flows from one song to the next without you really noticing, and the audience is eating out of her hands. 

“Hello, you two beauties,” someone suddenly says behind you, and when you turn around, you see Lando's face. He's wearing a white shirt, the top buttons casually undone so that part of his chest can be seen. With arms outstretched, he hugs Kika first before pulling you close and planting a kiss on your cheek. “How are you? How was Christmas?” he asks, taking each of your hands to pull you to the seating areas on the left. He briefly lets go of Kika's hand to untie one of the ribbons before letting you go ahead. 

“It was great,” Kika replies and takes off her long jacket before dropping onto one of the dark couches. She crosses her legs. "But I think our girl here had the most fun," she grins, raising her eyebrows. You give her a dirty look. 

Lando turns to you with raised eyebrows. ”Did you two fuck?”

“That's exactly what I asked!” Kika laughs and claps her hands joyfully. 

You feel the heat rising to your face, and it's not because you're still wearing your coat. Tensioned, you take it off and lay it over the back of the couch. “We didn't,” you answer curtly and roll your eyes. 

Kika and Lando exchange a meaningful look that you try to ignore. 

“Where are the boys, anyway?“ the Brit finally asks, rubbing his hands together as if he can't wait to see his friends again. 

“They dropped us off one street over so they could find a parking lot and so we wouldn't all be seen together,” Kika replies, reaching for the drinks menu on the small table in front of her. She begins to flip through it. 

“Very good.” Lando turns to you. "Today, only guests are invited who I and Martin know personally and trust so much that no one has to worry about any photos getting out," he smiles, putting his arm around your shoulders. 

You look up at him. ”Really?”

He nods. “So you don't need to worry. And neither does Charles.” He gently pulls you close before letting you go again. “So, girls. What can I get you to drink? Wine, cocktails, shots?”

“I'd like a strawberry margarita,” Kika replies, leaning back on the couch. 

“A piña colada, please.”

“All right. I'll be right back.“ Without turning back to you, he leaves and heads towards the bar, where he is immediately greeted and hugged by a few people, while you first make yourselves comfortable in your seating area. 

“Do you know this Martin guy?” you ask the Portuguese woman, who looks over at the crowd. 

She nods briefly. “Martin is really nice. And he's a good DJ,” she replies, and you notice how her gaze sticks to the female DJ. “He just doesn't look as good as she does.”

You can't suppress a grin. ”He doesn't have to look good as a DJ, does he? He just has to be good at what he does.”

“That's right,” Kika agrees with you before turning to face you. She points with her thumb over her shoulder and towards the DJ booth. ”But she's definitely hotter.”

Before you can say anything, Lando returns with a tray and sets it down in front of you. Your two cocktails and more glasses are on it, but there are also small shot glasses filled with red liquid. He hands you your drinks. 

“There we are,” Pierre greets all of you and briefly embraces Lando. Charles is standing behind him and smiles at you. 

“I'm glad you all made it,” the Brit smiles, giving the Monegasque a quick hug before everyone sits down. 

Charles takes a seat next to you, so close that he can press his leg against yours. “Hi,” he smiles gently. “Everything okay?” You return his smile and nod before taking a sip of your cocktail. His gaze flickers briefly from your eyes to your lips, which wrap around the straw. “Piña Colada?”

“Mh-hmm.” You hold the straw out to him and watch as he takes a sip. "Do you like it?”

“I do,’ he admits. ”But somehow I prefer the Nightmare Colada.”

Warmth rises to your cheeks at his words and the thought of the night when you got drunk on his boat. How you poured out your hearts. 

“To a great evening,” Lando raises his voice and hands everyone a shot glass. Carefully, each of you takes one, careful not to spill any of the red liquid. ”Cheers!”

The drinks that make their way to your table over the next two hours taste so fantastically good that Kika and you doubt that there is much alcohol in them. The cocktails taste fantastic and the music puts everyone in a good mood, so you leave your table and hit the dance floor. 

Your group dances to the beat that the DJ is playing like tipsy teenagers. Kika and you hold hands and dance together, causing the boys' eyes to almost pop out of their heads. The Portuguese woman presses her front against yours, her hands on your hips while yours are on her shoulders. And when she leans forward with pouting lips, you can't help but press a friendly kiss on her lips. You hear someone whistle – it's definitely Pierre – and when you both pull away from each other, you have to laugh. 

Kika puts her arm around your shoulders and the other around Charles. “I can't believe I kissed this beauty here before you did, Leclerc,” she grins. 

Charles looks at you with rosy cheeks, but his words are directed at Kika. “Is she a good kisser?”

“The best kisser I ever had,” the brunette replies with a grin before letting go of you and throwing her arms around her boyfriend. 

Charles and you look at each other uncertainly. 

Well, why haven't you kissed each other yet?

The thought is haunting your mind, but you can't answer the question. 

Doesn't Charles want to kiss you? You've definitely done things that are definitely not PG-rated. You can almost feel his spent between your thighs and his lips on your neck, the tip of his cock nudging against your clit and – 

Why haven't you kissed each other?

The Monegasque seems to notice your thoughts, but before he can say anything, Kika grabs your hand and pulls you towards the bar. You lean against the counter and wait for one of the bartenders to notice you when your friend takes your hand. 

“Is everything okay?” She asks, raising her eyebrows in concern. 

“Why do you ask?” you reply with a counter question. 

When a bartender reaches you, Kika orders your drinks. "I didn't want it to be weird between you and Charles. I'm sorry.”

You smile weakly at her and give her a quick hug. ’It's all right. We won't let this ruin our evening, okay?”

“You know you can always talk to me, right?” She asks, tilting her head. ‘You can call me day or night and I'll come to you. I promise.”

Your smile grows wider. "I'm already aware of that.”

“And I really love you, you know that?“ She puts her hands on your upper arms and hugs you tightly. Apparently, Kika gets emotional when she's drunk. 

“I love you too,” you return her embrace, and when the bartender puts your drinks in front of you, you both toast. 

“To the coolest girls, aka us,” she grins. As you both take a sip, someone taps her on the shoulder. Your best friend turns around and apparently she knows the young woman standing behind her, because she pulls her into a fleeting embrace before introducing you. ”Querida, this is Elena. She is also a model.”

In front of you stands a breathtaking beauty. With her brown hair, dark eyes and dark complexion, she looks as if she has just flown in from vacation. She is wearing a black and white dress that highlights her figure and accentuates exactly the right places to make her look flawless. 

You smile at her and introduce yourself as well. “Nice to meet you,” you say and extend your hand, but Elena kisses you on the left and then on the right cheek. 

“It's nice to meet you, too,” she replies with a smile before approaching you. ”Wait. Wipe below your eyebrows. You have some mascara on there.”

Without questioning her remark, you do as she says, and apparently it's good, because both women look at you with satisfaction afterwards. “Thank you,” you say. “That's very nice.”

Elena waves it off. ‘Don't worry. I'd want someone to tell me that too." She leans against the bar. ”You already have your drinks, right? Should I order shots for us?” she asks, but before either of you can answer, she is already talking to the bartender, who quickly prepares a cocktail and sets down three shot glasses in front of her. "Here you go," she says, handing each of you one of the glasses. 

After you've clinked glasses and emptied the small glasses, Kika fishes her cell phone out of her purse. ”Should we take a picture? I'm already drunk, but I definitely want a few more, and I don't think they'll get any better as the evening goes on,” she giggles, tapping someone on the shoulder to take a photo of you. First one of Kika and you, and then one of the three of you. 

“What's your name on Instagram?” Elena asks you, also digging out her phone so you can type your username into the search bar. When your profile pops up, she immediately clicks the follow button. 

Your phone lights up and the notification pops up on the lock screen, and when you tap it, you confirm her request and follow her right back. 

Her profile has a very aesthetic and artistic touch. Every picture is exactly where it should be. The colors all match and at the top of her biography is actually her full name: Elena Montpellier – one million followers – model at Bijou Management agency. 

“I didn't know that Lando had invited you,” Kika says to Elena, who just shrugs. 

“I'm here with friends,“ she replies as the three of you return to your seating area. "A friend of mine knows Martin and asked me if I wanted to come. And as if I'd stay at home when Martin is playing here in the club.”

Confused, you look from one beauty to the other. "So who is this Martin?” you ask hesitantly, afraid that Elena will laugh at you. 

But she doesn't. Quite the opposite. She slides closer to you and tells you about Martin, who is apparently a world-famous DJ. On her cell phone, she shows you videos of his shows and the crowds in front of which he usually performs, but in none of the sequences can you see his face. But suddenly she puts her cell phone down and motions for you to look up. “Speak of the devil.”

Your men join you and, like you, they have someone new with them. The face looks incredibly familiar. He kisses each of the girls on the cheek before introducing himself to you. And then it clicks. 

“Oh my God,” you gasp before he can say a word. ‘You're Martin Garrix.”

“That's me,’ he replies, visibly confused, glancing briefly at Lando, who puts his arm around your shoulder – skilfully ignoring Charles' scowl. 

“My friend here hasn't been in this industry for very long,“ he explains, gently pulling you over to his side. "This is all still pretty new.”

Martin looks back at you from Lando. ’Then I'm glad you're here today,” he smiles. “How did you end up with these guys, if you don't mind me asking?”

You're about to open your mouth to answer him, but Charles is faster. “She's my best friend,” he replies, standing next to you, his arm around your waist. He glances at Lando, who quickly removes his arm from your shoulder and catches your uncertain glance. 

“Okay, cool,” Martin simply replies. ”I still have about half an hour before I have to go to the desk. So, what's going on in your lives?”

While everyone is chatting, you hold back and watch. Pierre and Lando are talking, while Charles, Elena and Martin have moved closer together and the latter is showing something on his cell phone to the other two. You lean back into the couch and sip on your cocktail, Kika leaning on you. 

“I'm sorry he introduced you as his best friend,” she says, only audible to you. 

When you shrug, her head wobbles. “It's okay. I've made my peace with it,” you reply with a half-truth. 

Of course, you would prefer to be more than just his best friend – after all, you share a bed and the images of his expression when he came and painted your thighs refuse to leave you – but if his friendship is all you get from him, then that's that. 

“Please take care of yourself.” Kika raises her head and looks at you anxiously. ”I don't want you to get hurt. You've already been through so much.”

You gently press a kiss on her forehead. “I appreciate your concern.” Your gaze flickers over to Charles, who is now talking only to Elena. He shows her something on his phone and they both have to laugh. The woman leans forward a little to get a better look at the screen, but holds her neckline of the dress so that you can't see inside. 

Charles eyes move from his screen to you, without looking at Elena once. 

You smile at him, but before he can return it, the woman next to him says something and his attention is back to her, as if you weren't there. Maybe he just wants to be polite, after all, Pascale has taught him well and Charles is not one who just -

“Hi,” someone interrupts your train of thought and when you look up, Martin is standing in front of you. "I'm going to the DJ booth now and I thought you might like to join me," he suggests. ”As a kind of welcome and an apology for being so strange just now.”

You raise your eyebrows in wonder. “Actually, I should be the one to apologize. I'm not quite into the ‘famous people know other famous people’ thing yet. I'm sorry.”

Martin waves it off. “Don't worry. It takes some getting used to. But maybe it will help if you support me at the DJ booth.” He holds out his hand. 

“I've never done this before. So I can't guarantee anything,” you smile, which makes him laugh. 

“I'll show you everything. And if necessary, you can just stand next to me and look beautiful, but that shouldn't be a problem.“ 

“All right.” Without hesitation, you put your hand in his and he helps you to your feet. You take a quick glance at Kika, who grins at you and pushes the rest of your cocktail into your free hand, wishing you lots of fun. 

Your eyes flicker over to Charles, whose eyes are already glued to you. He doesn't seem to notice Elena at all, she talks and talks and apparently shows him something without realizing that his attention is not on her right now. He looks from your face to your hand, which is still holding Martin's, so that he can guide you through the crowd in a moment. 

It doesn't feel right to hold another man's hand, even if it's just for a moment. It should be Charles' hand holding yours. Charles' fingers entwined with yours. But Charles is sitting there with Elena, knee to knee. 

“Are you okay?” Martin asks, looking from you to Charles, who can't take his eyes off the two of you. 

You swallow and smile at him. “I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?” the DJ asks implausibly. “Charles looks at me as if he wants to kill me. You're just friends, aren't you?”

With your eyes fixed on Charles, you answer him. "Best friends," you correct him with the words of the Monegasque, before turning to Martin. ”Shall we?”

"With pleasure.”

As the two of you leave the seating area and you don't turn around to catch the eye of your best friend, Charles clenches his jaw. 

He already knows the feeling that is welling up inside of him, but last time it was Lando who triggered it and he had to work on himself not to see the Brit as competition. Which is complete nonsense, because Charles knows that Lando would never come between the two of you, not after he called the Monegasque and put him in his place while he was in Italy. 

And Charles knows that he has nothing to worry about. He is the man you go home with later. He is the man you share your bed with at night. He is the man who will later push up your dress and is allowed to touch you where you need him most. 

He knows all of this. And yet there is nothing he can do about it, except feel increasingly jealous with every step you take away from him.

[tragedybunny]

My Starry Sky - Astarion x F!Reader

Reader and Astarion have their first real argument and have to go through the aftermath.

“Come to bed early, spend some time with me?” Astarion whispered in your ear, crimson eyes still a bit watery.

There wasn’t any other answer to give. “Of course love,” you took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze, desperate to reassure him after what had happened earlier.

Going into this, you knew how he could be, how he lashed out sometimes, and why. That hadn’t made the first time he directed it at you after your mutual confession any easier. Maybe you had thought finally sharing your feelings would change that part of him, a selfish wish. “Damn it, are you just going to ignore me all day!” He snapped at you on the road, drawing questioning looks from your other companions.

“What?” You’d turned back to him, confusion knitting your brows together.

“You heard me.” Around you, you could sense everyone stepping away, wisely giving the two of you space, despite the fact that you were in a desolate, cursed place. The locale was probably not helping the tension.

“I’m not ignoring you!” The first mistake you made in that conversation, a sharp tone, fire returned.

“So I’m just imagining that you’ve hardly said two words to me for hours but have been more than happy to prattle on with everyone else.” He doubled down, and you could tell he wasn’t going to hear you. “Or you're lying.”

The accusation stung, did he think so little of you? Maybe this was all a mistake. And just like that, all the worries, the struggles, and this blasted place boiled over, and you were the one who lashed out. “This isn’t going to work, we’re not going to work, if you’re going to act like this!” The second mistake.

Eyes going wide, his posture changed in an instant. It was like he tried to make himself smaller, to get away from the pain of your words. “Please no, I’m sorry.” His voice shook and if he had any need of breathing he would have been gasping. “Gods, I’ve already ruined it.” Tears had started to spill down his cheeks.

With horror, you realized what you’d done. You’d threatened him into compliance, even if you had done so out of hurt. Were you no better than Cazador? In a rush, you threw your arms around him pulling him close, frantic to relieve the hurt you’d caused. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” After a second of hesitation, you felt his arms encircle you as he sniffled into your hair. "That was wrong of me."

It took a few moments of soft whispers and soothing until he would let you go. "Let's just forget this," you prompted and he readily agreed.

The hurtful words and accusations stuck with you though and you excused yourself as soon as dinner was over. Taking you by the hand, Astarion leads you to his tent, where you'd been sleeping most nights lately. With a soft gasp, you note small enchanted motes of light, dancing at the top of the tent. "Gale's work," you ask, staring at them with enchantment.

"I don't want to know what he's going to ask me in return," he chuckles but it’s strained and struggling.

“At least he’s not looking for magic to eat anymore.” With a quick brush of your lips against his cheek, you lower yourself down to the waiting nest of blankets the two of you spend your nights wrapped around each other in. Your hand still in his pulls him along with you.

An open bottle of wine and two glasses were waiting and you readily take one after he pours it. The two of you sit close enough that shoulders and thighs touch, a small comfort after the harshness of the day, and you lean your head on his shoulder. “I love you, you know that right?” Desperately, you want him to know it, even with all the complications, you sincerely love him.

“I know,” he finishes the glass of wine, and you note that he seems off still. “I love you too,” he pours another and drinks deeply. It was a rough day all around though, and you don’t want to push it.

Moments later you’re surprised as a pale, slender hand reaches down to tilt your chin up off his shoulder and kiss you. The taste of the wine lingers on his lips and you drink in the intimacy of it on your tongue. Your glass is taken from your grasp as the kiss deepens, lips parting invitingly to him. Hands wrap around your waist and your stomach flutters, you’ve missed being touched like this by him. A trail of soft bites is traced from your lips down your neck as his hands work their way under your shirt caressing the sensitive skin of your breasts. Reaching up, you grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a soft moan escapes you. “My sweet girl,” he murmurs against your throat and your blood runs cold.

That isn’t him, he sounds a thousand miles away, and so empty. “I thought you weren’t ready for this.”

A thumb brushes over a nipple and his teeth dig into your flesh just hard enough to thrill. You swallow the cry you almost make, not wanting to encourage this. “I’ve been thinking it’s time to move on, let go of the past,” his voice tremors and you can tell he’s lying even as he tries to kiss you again.

“Astarion, stop,” gently you push him away and see the panic in his face. “Why are you doing this?”

He looks anywhere but right at you, eyes hazy and unfocused “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Astarion…”

He sighs heavily, breaking down at last. “Well, I thought after today, perhaps you were tiring of me, and that I should do something to win you back. And I can’t seem to get this right either.”

Pain slices through your chest and you feel as though your heart is being torn in two. Carefully, you put your hands on his cheeks. “Look at me,” it’s not a command, but a plea, and he finally brings his eyes to yours. “I love you, and I’m not going to tire of you. Understand?” Wordlessly he nods. “But you are never to try to buy me again with your body, you are worth so much more than that.” A loving kiss on his forehead punctuates your words and you hear him sniffling again.

“I can try, it is so hard to leave behind.” Arms open, you beckon him to you, and you both collapse into the waiting blankets. “It feels like the only thing I know, the only thing I’m good for. And I just want to keep you but I don’t know how else to do it sometimes.”

“Just love me, that’s all I need.” You yearn for nothing but to cover him in soft kisses and hold him forever, so he can know how loved he is, how cherished. “My Starry Sky.”

With his face buried in your neck, he murmurs softly, sounding like his true self again, “my Sunlight.”

[melliemell]

Pairing: Chuuya x f!reader

Contents: NSFW, penetration (reader receiving), Chuuya-levels of cursing, don't say he's cute, he'd get grumpy about it and fuck you stupid to prove a point, incessant flirting, Approx 1.1k words

It really started off as a joke.

An off-hand comment you made. You didn’t intend on paying more attention to it… were it not Chuuya’s reaction; an eyebrow raised as he leaned into his seat, that god-awful grin of his spreading wide as he regarded you.

Your date was going well, all things considered. A nice restaurant, your own secluded corner to settle in at and relax, a gift of overly extravagant flowers–always the charmer that one, Chuuya even pulled the chair for you–it was perfect. A sense of being with the right person doing the right thing.

Finally having the time for each other.

And doing normal, romantic things was part of this evening’s plans.

Except it was Chuuya you were speaking of. Nothing that simple ever happened around him.

“So you think I’m boring?” he asked, playing the amused card to the tenth. There was none of his usual bark, only the teasing tone you had grown accustomed to.

“Misleading–” you began, leaning into his personal space to poke at his chest. “–is what I was referring to. This grand, scary mafioso… that also happens to spend half an hour choosing which shoes go best with which vest. You portray the part of barking dog really well but you’re actually a cutie.” And you winked, just to nail it down.

Chuuya clicked his tongue. He didn’t like it when you babied him, you knew that. But his reactions were too good to miss out on. 

“Hah? That the type of man ya take me for?” he grumbled, not quite masking the slight annoyance this time around. 

You hummed, trailing a finger down his chest. “Devastated, are you?”

Chuuya grabbed your hand, raising it to plant a kiss to your wrist. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he said, “Damn right I am. Calling me ‘cute’ out here like ya don’t know any better.”

You cocked your head, eyebrow raised in feigned confusion. “What? You gonna do something about it?” You knew perfectly well where this was going.

A whispered “fuck” left Chuuya’s lips, audible only for you to hear. And it was then it got settled– you weren’t suited for the romance part. Not the innocent, charming one at least. You needed a bit… more.

It became even clearer when less than an hour later your hands fumbled for your keys, Chuuya glued to your back as he trailed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. 

“I really hoped we’d be doing the ‘sweet date and movie night combo’, you know? Have you snuggled up against me and all,” you said, wasting no time as you both stumbled through the entrance, your hands finding their way around Chuuya’s neck. He kicked the door shut before trapping you against the nearby wall, lips seeking yours. 

“I’ll snuggle you up all night long, doll.” You could taste the wine on his tongue, the hurried way he kissed you leaving no space for distraction. Demanding your full attention was a staple mark of Chuuya’s, you couldn’t deny it.

“You seem preoccupied with other things, though,” you said, unbuttoning his vest.

Chuuya’s hands were already on your bra, unclasping the hooks before you felt a hand cup your breast, the barely-there caress of a thumb over your stiffened bud sending tingles of pleasure down your body in seconds. “How about you just ask me nicely, hm?” 

“Ah, you want me to beg now?” you asked, a finger trailing the outline of his lower lip, and you savored the way his breath trembled. Teasing like this would be wise only for now, you doubted he’d let you off the hook as easily soon enough. Not when you could feel his cock through the fabric of his trousers, hard against your thigh and probably leaking. 

Chuuya kissed your finger before biting it lightly, and you chuckled. “Don’t wanna leave me guessing what you want, do you? I might end up biting somewhere ya don’t want me to, sweets.”

You arched your hips forward, drawing a low groan from Chuuya. “We’ll have to wait and see then. I’m very open-minded, you know.”

“And stubborn,” Chuuya grinned, rocking against you. “Fu-uck, this feels good. I forgot what my point was, damnit.”

“Ha, loser.”

“Fuck off, bigger loser.” 

You were about to make fun of him again, seeing as he lost brain cells faster the hornier he got, but… you felt him pinch your nipple this time, rolling your bud between his skilled fingers as he dived for your neck again. The throbbing between your legs distracted you, intensifying even more as Chuuya’s tongue trailed along your pulse, leaving damp skin to prickle against the cold air. 

Rough wall against your back turned into soft sheets in a flurry of fragmented moments. Only Chuuya’s presence remained firm beside you. He settled between your legs, hands hurriedly discarding any remaining garments as fast as you both could, all the while without letting go of each other. Not once.

You barely had your underwear down before Chuuya was rocking forward, cock settling between your pussy lips as he rubbed against you. Your wetness spread over his tip only to draw a low moan from his parted lips. 

“Impatient,” you said, hooking your ankles around his hips. 

“You wanted the real deal tonight,” he grinned at you. “Going around calling me boring and cute all evening. Like hell I’ll leave it at that.”

“You gonna change my mind, fancy hat boy?”

“Ooh, you betcha,” Chuuya said, and slowly sank into the heat of your throbbing cunt.

You knew Chuuya was a talker; never shutting up even when you really would rather just hold him, hand clasped over his mouth as he fucked you in peace.

But not this time. It was quick and rough, him bottoming out in you with every slick thrust. He barely gave you time to take your bearings, his hand finding your clit only to start rubbing mercilessly in sync with his movements. Trying to stifle your moans was proving near impossible. Only Chuuya’s lips served as help, swallowing your every sound as he kissed you stupid. 

“Oh, fuck…” you panted, pulling away. 

“Nuh-huh, where ya going, sweets?” Chuuya ground his hips against yours, drawing another pained moan from your throat. “I’m doing you good, yeah? Come on, keep up with me.”

Your nails dug into his back even as your body trembled all over. “A bit too good there.”

“Yeah?” Chuuya trailed kisses down your jawline, his pace slowed. For now, at least. “Wanna ask me nicely about it?” he whispered.

Fuck. “I’m in for it, aren’t I?” you asked, knowing full well the answer. 

Chuuya only grinned.

Yeah, it was about to be a long night.

[gluion]

02:48 ➵ park gunwook

park gunwook x reader

you’re set on playing some more games of valorant, and gunwook is trying to change your mind.

general genre/warnings ➵ established relationship, fluff, suggestive, lots of kissing, hickey moment…, valorant mention

word count ➵ 800 words

a/n ➵ happy birthday @shegotthewoobies <3 ily and i hope you like this drabble :DD if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog & leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

gunwook wishes he isn’t the needy type. the one who can handle the distance. the one who can keep his hands to himself. the one who can fall asleep without you by his side. he hopes he can be the one to fulfill your every request, regardless of the hours or miles it may take.

he likes to think he’s made for you, but the reality is that he needs you.

before gunwook left for work, he promised you a few matches of valorant. his busy schedule didn’t give you two enough time in the day to spend with each other. all you had were hours made for sleep. although you understood gunwook’s schedule, only wanting him to rest before another day filled with work, he couldn’t share the same sentiments as you. all he wants is to be around you; intertwine fingers, and graze his lips over the expanse of your skin. despite your protests, it all falls on deaf ears as he cuts you off with a single kiss before taking his leave.

yet, work is spontaneous. he’ll never know if it’ll be a day where he waits for hours to pass by or to chase them.

gunwook tried to conceal his fatigue, peppering your face with kisses before telling you he’ll shower before he hops on the game. despite your worried eyes, he leads you to your chair before making his way to the washroom.

although he was tired from today’s work, he enjoyed the few matches he got to play. regardless of taerae’s trashtalk, matthew’s missed shots, and taerae’s partner’s whines, his stress levels subsided—all thanks to you. still, he couldn’t fight off the exhaustion.

“hey, i think i’m done for today,” gunwook says, earning a series of groans.

“no! we can’t end here. i mean, we can’t end on a loss!” regardless of taerae’s attempt to make him stay, he already closed the game. 

“bye guys.” he doesn’t wait for another word to leave his friends before he drops the discord call. as he looks over to his right, he sees your screen is on the lobby. he stands up from his seat, expecting you to take your leave until you pull out your phone. 

“hey, let him go to sleep. i’m down to play some unrated. but if you guys find someone else to fill, i’m also up for more ranked matches.”

gunwook can’t help but pout. he should’ve known that you would play a few more games. after all, you’d always try to find time in the day to play. yet, he wishes you could read the words in between his farewell—hey, let’s go to sleep.

a hum leaves you. “okay, let me try to ask my friend if they want to play.”

for a moment, gunwook considers going to bed, leaving you one kiss before you can continue playing. this is your time to destress. but his feet take him to where you are and his hand quickly reaches for your mouse so that he can mute your microphone.

you move your headphones to the side. “hey, what are you—”

his arms find their spot around your waist. “baby,” his whine has you holding your breath, “can’t you play some more games tomorrow? i missed you.”

“gunwook,” a shy giggle leaves your lips, “i’ll just play one or two more games. i’m pretty sure matthew and taerae are trying to find someone to fill.”

then, he nestles his face into your neck. while his nose grazes your skin, you let out a quiet exhale. but the moment you feel his lips, your eyes shut close. out of instinct. out of comfort. out of desire.

“c’mon, i’m sure they’ll understand.” his lips continue to cover every inch of your neck as his hands sneak under your shirt, fingers drawing shapes on your hips. gunwook’s persuasion is hard to ignore.

feigning ignorance, you say, “but i won’t get to play tomorrow. just one game.”

he musters a sigh and you think you won the battle, until his lips latch onto your neck. blunt teeth scratch against your skin as his tongue darts out, sucking in the spot. a soft moan leaves you as you throw your head back.

taerae’s shouts leak out of your headphones but you have no interest in hearing what he has to say.

gunwook’s lips leave you and you try to steady your breathing. you hate his effect on you. “c’mon, let’s go to bed.”

you need a few seconds before you swallow your shame. “to sleep?”

he giggles before he pulls back, allowing you to meet his gaze. “depends if you’ll quit valorant now or later.” and when you spot the smirk that rests on his lips, you don’t think twice about disconnecting from the call without saying goodbye.

taglist: @kflixnet @blankjournal

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (8)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Angst, pining, injury

a/n: I appreciate thoughts and reactions more than you know!!! <333 Italics indicate flashbacks.

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

The next two weeks were interesting. 

In the first few days after the accident—the ones filled with confusion and incorrect suspicions—you had spent most of your time alone or sleeping. Mor visited your bedroom every morning to share limited information about your past, but there was no routine beyond that. Everyone tiptoed around you, too afraid to set off the timebomb they assumed was your mind.

But Helion had disputed that assumption. 

You were allowed to know who you were, to become the person you had been. 

So, a routine began to form. 

Breakfast early in the morning, usually with a random assortment of the inner circle. Mor was always present, keeping up with her responsibility of telling you about yourself. Cassian joined more often than not—an early riser, he deemed himself. Azriel made it when he could. He was always busy in the morning. Doing… something, everyone told you.

Rhysand would join you after the meal, whisking you away for an hour or two to work on the powers you still could not call upon. He would have a different objective in mind every day and it was your job to parse out what it was. 

You failed. 

Obviously. 

He started bringing in random Velaris citizens instead, but you still felt nothing. It was nice to see the smiling strangers; they were all kind to you, all apparently knowing who you were. The vagueness surrounding them leveled the playing field more. They didn’t know your whole life story and you weren’t supposed to know theirs. 

“You’ve explained it to me before,” Rhysand had said. “It’s a vibration, sometimes a light or a color. You see it around them, feel it. You understand a deep part within them that they don’t even know they’re revealing.” 

Well, there was never any light or vibration or color. You could never tell that the fae were lying or that Rhysand was planning something big for his anniversary with his mate. None of this otherworldly intuition that the Night Court seemed to value so highly. It was all just stagnant. 

After spending some time failing with Rhys, you got to explore Velaris. You had insisted that you didn’t need a chaperone, and your family believed you—for a time. You had three whole days of walking around the city alone before that privilege was revoked.

Granted, it was your fault that it was revoked, but that was neither here nor there. 

It hadn’t been your plan to get lost, just as it hadn’t been your plan to get caught up in a street brawl over a cart of potatoes. But when you weren’t at the designated meeting spot for Cassian to bring you back up the house, and when he found you with a bleeding nose an hour later, what you meant to do didn’t matter. 

“Y/n?” you heard a voice shout, heavy footsteps shaking the ground beneath you. “Shit—y/n, look at me, you okay?” 

Warm hands enveloped your shaking ones, drawing them back and catching sight of the red staining your fingerprints. It was Cassian, you realized, with his broad wings cloaking you in their shadow. The General’s expression hardened when he took in your face.

“What happened?” he asked, voice low, comfort combatting fury. “Where have you been? We have about 10 people looking for you, sweetheart.” 

You grimaced—both at the pain in your nose and the notion of your family scouring the streets of Velaris. “I’m so, so sorry, Cassian. I got turned around and then I was in this alley and there was a boy—” 

“Hey!” Defeat washed through you at the sound of another voice in the alley, all hopes for a peaceful return home washed away. “Is your girlfriend over there gonna pay for the product I lost?” 

The Illyrian before you paused, body going still at the accusatory tone. Cassian’s jaw clenched and he turned, keeping you well behind him. You still caught a glimpse of the scene from between his legs, and the merchant—to his credit—had the mind to stop his taunting. 

And to look afraid. 

Really, truly afraid. 

“You did this to her?” Cassian growled, fists clenching at his sides. 

The merchant swallowed. “You’re—and she’s…” 

“Did you. Do this. To her?” Cassian asked again, words broken up by malice. 

A beat of pressing silence, only whispers of the street meeting your ears. The merchant took several, shaky steps back, but the movement damned him. His hands swayed with his backtracking feet, and red glistened on his knuckles. 

Cassian’s wings flared at the sight. It only took a small uptick of his brow for the smaller man to fall to the floor in a plea. 

“Please, please don’t kill me! I didn’t know who she was. Don’t turn me over to the Shadowsinger, I won’t make it! I have a family to care for—a wife! I was only trying to protect my crops and she butted in. I didn’t want to hurt her!”

The General hooked his chin over his shoulder and sent you a questioning gaze, one you were sheepish to answer. With a harrowing breath, you revealed, “There was a little boy stealing potatoes. He was going to hit him. I stepped in the way.” 

A tug at your chest had you gasping as Cassian turned back around. The feeling had been persistent the moment you got lost, increasing after you’d been implicated in the merchant’s conflict. It pulled and pulled, a desperate winding around your ribs that you didn’t know how to relieve. 

It had to have been fear. Or stress. 

Cassian eyed the man crumpled to the floor. “Is the boy okay?” he asked, the question meant for you but directed across the alley. 

“Yes,” you confirmed, pressing your hand to the blood running down your chin. “He ran away.” 

Cassian grunted, sent a harsh warning to the man, and then crouched back down to your place on the ground, shaking his head in frustration. “Let’s get you home.” And then he grumbled, “I might get my ass kicked but…” 

Cassian had not gotten his ass kicked when you got home, but many other things happened. Mor just about cried in relief, her arms thrown around your neck followed by a string of commands to never do such a thing again. Rhys rubbed at his jaw as tension lifted from the House. He also had a command—that you wouldn’t be traveling alone anymore. 

And Azriel… Azriel looked like he would vomit, his shadows flitting angrily around him before bridging a path to you. He had cleaned the blood from your face, eyes haunted by misplaced grief, and pure guilt replaced all else in your myriad of emotions. 

You agreed an escort would be better. 

Azriel volunteered. Every day. 

And so you got to know Azriel. 

Mor had described him as reserved, not one to offer the intimacy of touch or personal information so readily. That was not your experience with the Shadowsinger. 

Fleeting touches had become commonplace between the two of you, whether it was his hands or his wings or the brush of his thigh as you sat by the Sidra. You weren’t sure if he was doing it consciously, but you welcomed the familiarity. You found he did it most when he wasn’t paying attention—when he was deep into a story about your past or listening to your opinions intently. 

He was open, sharing pieces of himself you didn’t have to pry to receive. He told you about his mother, about his scars, about how he overcame them. He shared with you how important you were to him many, many times, slipping it into conversations so causally. A thread connected the pieces of his life, and you, it appeared, made up the spool. 

He did not speak of his mate, despite being prompted. 

A sadness came over him at any mention of her, one so achingly melancholy that you told yourself you wouldn’t ask again. 

He loved her deeply, but something had happened there.

You tried not to get too close. This was friendship, a deep familial love that he relied on. That you seemed to have relied on for so many years.

And Azriel was hurt. Even if he and his mate were no longer intertwined by their bond, he didn’t need the onslaught of emotions his amnesiac friend was suddenly overcome with. 

Because you were—overcome by emotions for him. 

It was wrong. 

You wished you had the context to separate those feelings. If you understood your history—if you had memories beyond the few weeks of sweet stories and brushes of his fingers along your hair—maybe you wouldn't be feeling this way. Maybe your heart wouldn’t beat painfully against your ribs each time he entered the room… each time his eyes met yours as if he could feel your admiration for him within his own chest. 

You wouldn’t be feeling this way, surely. Because no one had told you that you should be. 

You only had the recounts of your friends, and the three of them had made no insinuations about you and Azriel. 

You wished you could meet the rest of the inner circle. 

There had been plans to, but then you came home with blood on your face and a disorientation in your eyes and that was suddenly off the table. 

After your time exploring Velaris, you read. 

Mor would pile your favorite books beside you in the small reading room you had come to love and rave about how great of an opportunity this was for you.

“You would kill to be able to read these for the first time again,” she’d laugh. “So have at it!” 

Reading felt easy. 

Books did not pressure you to remember things you weren’t able to. 

You could see it all in their eyes, the way your family clung to each of your words for even a hint of reminiscence. They’d make a joke and hold their breath, desperate for the laugh that should be bubbling out of you. But you never got it, never making the connections that they did. 

Azriel was the only one who’d catch the shame you felt at your lack of deliverance. Although he was the one with the most torture in his expression, he was also the one with the most understanding. He’d lean his head down and whisper what you needed to know in your ear, and then you’d giggle—for show—and hope would return to the room. 

But nothing had returned to you. 

You were still a shell.

~~

“What do you think?” 

Cassian’s question blanketed the table, forks halting their movements atop plates. Breakfast had just begun and you were dressed for a morning in Velaris at the theater, this time with Cassian. 

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Mor questioned, eyeing the General beneath a raised brow. 

“Were you there last week when I brought her home all bloody? I think it’s a great idea. Rhys agrees.” 

“And Az?” 

Cassian continued his breakfast, reaching for his drink. “Cassian—”

And so you found yourself steps away from the roof of the House of Wind—no longer in the comfortable daywear you’d been sporting—squinting into the morning sun. Leathers fitted for your body were laced up at your back and waist, stretching with a groan as you reached up to block the light from your eyes. Although the pain in your head had subsided to practically nonexistence, it often flared up in brightness or in times of stress. 

Like when you stood atop a mountain and stared into the sun. Or got punched in the nose by a potato merchant. 

“This is where I go while you go galavanting around the city,” Cassian chimed in, a grin evident in his words. 

“Charming,” you muttered, still adjusting to the jarring assault of the sun.

The sound of grunts and clashing metal oriented you quicker, and as your eyesight settled you were met with the image of Azriel. He was bare-chested, leathers donning his legs as he pressed further and further forward, the knife you always saw at his hips hacking away at the metal dummy before him. 

He moved so quickly that it was difficult to track him, one swipe after another, so carefully skilled and practiced. Sweat beaded down his tattooed skin. His wings rippled and spread in time with his footwork. 

He was mesmerizing, a force of nature only halting as his shadows wound around his ear, whispering. Azriel whipped around, sheathing his knife at his side and staring out beyond the training ring with a narrowed gaze. He spotted you instantly, without looking near or around—a magnetic force. 

Until he wasn’t looking at you, instead glowering in Cassian’s direction. “What are you doing, brother?” he bit out. The back of his hand made a quick pass along his forehead. 

Cassian didn’t look the slightest bit sheepish, ushering you to the outskirts of the ring. “She’s going to train. Now that we know she won’t break at the slightest thing.” 

Hazel eyes slid back to you, a softness overcoming them as you quickly averted your gaze from the broadness of his chest. You were not ogling him. 

You bit into your cheek to stave off the embarrassment. 

“I thought we agreed—” 

“Az, come on. It’s been a couple of weeks now. We need to get her back in the swing of things.” 

A crack of defeat edged its way onto the Shadowsinger’s face. 

What had they agreed on? To wait it out? To treat you like glass until you were their version of yourself again? Something ugly licked up into your chest, something raw. 

For a moment—just one—you stood on the sidelines and felt pathetic. While the two Illyrians stared at each other, a silent conversation between eyes, you let yourself feel like an outsider. They had had discussions about you, but not really about you. About the you that they loved—the one with memories and reciprocation. 

“Will you be careful?” Azriel’s even voice snapped you out of the spiral you had initiated. His expression was uneasy, a hand pressed to his chest. “And tell us if you need to stop? If your head—” 

“My head has been completely fine for a while now,” you assured, hands coming up to grasp the rungs of the training ring. “Promise.” 

Azriel pressed his lips into a line but motioned you in with a nod of his head. 

Despite the conflict still raging within your mind, you smiled at Cassian, the two of you letting out a small cheer and high-fiving before the General lifted you by your hips and past the rungs. You regained your footing and stood before the spymaster, meeting his level gaze with your own. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” Cassian began, a loud clap resonating behind you. “Muscle memory is going to play a big role here, but I don’t want to risk you getting hurt, so you’re just with this guy for now.” He patted the shoulder of the dummy Azriel had been practicing with. 

You scoffed, dropping your hands to hang by your thighs. “What? I still have the same muscle tone from before and last I checked my face was beaten in by a real person, not a chunk of metal.” 

“And that will not happen again,” Azriel cut it. “Ever. But especially not when you’re… in this state.”

You ignored the unsettling remark. “Okay, well I think sparring one of you would be more effective in the prevention of that, don’t you?” 

“Cassian and I could hurt you.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“We can’t guarantee—” 

“I trust you,” you interrupted, your view of Azriel partially obstructed by the shadows that wound up your body. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me. Let me do this, Az.” 

The male before you faltered, his eyes darting quickly between yours. His chest, gleaming in the sunlight, rose and fell with strenuous effort. A clench of his jaw. Another pass of silence. 

“Okay,” he nodded, gaze roving over your features. “Okay, y/n. Get warmed up and we can spar.” 

You warmed up with Cassian, stretching and relishing in the feel of your body moving. He went over a few basic maneuvers with you, and you tried your hardest to pay close attention to how his feet slid around the ring. 

It was a rather hard task, seeing as Azriel had continued his blade work on the dummy. Still shirtless. 

After the General was satisfied with your progress, he passed you off to his brother. The Shadowsinger’s posture had softened a hair from when you first entered the ring, his wings coiled back and his shadows creating uneven shapes along the floor. He kept his hands by his sides, his feet relaxed—not a fighting stance in the slightest. 

“Come on,” you teased, cocking your head to the side. “You have to at least try, Az.” 

“I did not spar with you often before your memories were lost,” he admitted. “I do not enjoy the thought of hurting you.” 

Guilt immediately flooded you. You hadn’t even thought about what this would be like for him, too caught up in your own strife. Your stance dropped, the fists at your chin loosening and falling. 

“Oh, Azriel, I’m sorry. I can have Cassian—” 

“No.” He dragged his left foot back. A ghost of a fighting position. “Only me.” 

You took a painful breath in. 

He didn’t move, allowing you to lead. 

You shook your hands out and then your body moved of its own accord. 

You swiped at his legs first, unsurprised when he leaped back with practiced grace. The two of you fell into a dance of drawn arms and calculated shifts and you were almost unnerved by how your body moved without you willing it to. 

Cassian had said that muscle memory would play a role. 

It seemed to be the only thing driving you.  

You went for his knees, but in a way that maneuvered past his wings. 

You used his shadows as cover, taking advantage of their familiarity with you and cloaking yourself in their mist. 

Azriel swung a halfhearted punch at your shoulder and you bypassed the motion, grabbing his wrist and twisting at his back. 

It felt right. Your actions were not your own but they were ingrained in your being. 

This was your body. 

Something that remained unchanged. 

In your newfound joy, you missed the open palm Azriel carefully directed at your chest. The impact caught you off guard, stealing your breath from your lungs as you were pushed to the ground. As your back hit the floor, another shocking burst of air was ripped from you. 

You laid frozen for a moment before a shadow cast over your body, the sun no longer beating down on your skin. Through the ringing in your ears, Azriel’s voice flowed through. 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—y/n, take a breath.” A scarred hand rubbed along your clavicle. “Breathe. You’re okay. Breathe.” 

A startling gasp of oxygen entered your lungs. You were fine, completely unharmed, only shocked and disoriented. Azriel bowed his head as you continued to circulate the air into your body, and it was then that you saw it. 

A chain hung between you, dangling from his neck and brushing against your chin. It swayed back and forth, a grounding point as you blinked back the tears lining your eyes. The ring glinted in the sun, rubbing against the golden chain, looking as if it did not belong there. 

Azriel tracked your gaze as he raised his head, looking down at the object of your attention. He sat back on his ankles and the diamond followed him, resting close to his chest. 

You raised yourself to your elbows. “Who’s—” You coughed. Azriel winced. “Is that yours?”  

A stupid question, but you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. A guarded look passed over the Shadowsinger’s face and you regretted it instantly. He reached up and clutched the necklace in a closed fist.  

“No,” he responded. “Are you okay?” 

He didn’t release the ring. 

“I’m okay,” you confirmed. “I’m not hurt. It just knocked the wind out of me.” 

Azriel nodded. A grim line formed between his brows. 

“Hey! She alright?” Cassian called. He had moved clear across the roof when you began to spar with Azriel, mentioning something about inventory or knives or something you hadn’t paid attention to. You had been too focused on the warmth you felt from being so close to Azriel’s skin. 

The sound of Cassian’s voice did nothing to break the hold Azriel’s eyes had on you. 

Another beat of silence passed. 

The wind blew a strand of his hair across his forehead. 

“I—” 

“I have a mission. I was supposed to meet with Rhys before midday.” He spoke the words apologetically but his hand shook when it lowered to his knee. 

The sun was already past the high point in the sky. It was no longer midday. 

“Okay,” you whispered. “I want to thank you for—” 

“Don’t thank me. Please, just—Be careful. I have to go.” 

A quiet collection of parting words fell from your lips and Aziel twitched, looking as if he would move forward but thinking better of it. 

But you had thoughts too, and they worked against Azriel’s

You raised to your knees and brushed the hair on his forehead back, a small smile gracing your face, trying so hard to melt some of the tension that had grown between you. Azriel’s breath caught as you moved, but you only doubled down, softly dragging your nails along his scalp. 

He shuddered, eyes falling shut for a brief, unguarded moment. 

His shadows consumed him. 

Azriel was gone. 

[kisseobie]

Can you rank P1harmony on who is most likely to get pussy drunk and why 👀👀

who in p1harmony is most likely to be pussy drunk

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: nsfw obvi (mdni)

a/n: well yes! this is in mtl, so most to least! (although i can see all of piwon as munches that all get pussy drunk tbh..)

༘⋆₊˚ jongseob

might be a controversial take and might be spurred on by a seob work i am currently drafting out but.. fuck it i’m putting jongseob as the most likely to be pussy drunk! i’m just sooo fixated on the idea of him never experiencing anything before meeting you, and just becoming obsessed when his fingers, lips, and cock all make contact with your cunt for the first time.. so eager to please, and the fact that he’s able to draw out waves from you is enough for him to feel pleasure as well. definitely a service dom that can spend hours analyzing each reaction he can pull from you.. when he’s particularly stressed out in the midst of comeback preparations he’s spending his nights lapping at your pussy until all the worrying thoughts dissipate from his pretty head :3

༘⋆₊˚ intak

just a loser puppy bf obsessed with his girlfriend and her glistening cunt :(( he’s sooo desperate 24/7, is always pulling you away from whatever or whoever you’re currently occupied with, just so he can worship you and your pussy. he’s the typa bf to rut his hips against the bed whilst eating you out, eagerness evident in the way he groans into your cunny .. he’s def begging you afterwards to let him stuff you with his dick .. pleading with big eyes and nasty words like “just the tip? please angel, wanna feel you around me” and you’d never admit it to him, but his never-satiated desire to worship your pretty pussy drives you absolutely crazy :( please please rut your hips onto his face and pull his hair when he’s eating you out.. he deserves it!!

༘⋆₊˚ jiung

another hot take but i think a serious little nerdy introvert like ji would have a crazyyyyy sex drive; and an even crazier need to constantly be inside of you. once the pair of you have sex for the first time, it literally alters jiung’s brain chemistry. he’s particularly obsessed with overstimulating you just to witness the familiar frothy white ring of his and your cum placed around his dick every time he lifts your pelvis up and pulls in and out.. literally takes pictures of your pussy like it’s the finest piece of art he’ll ever see, tucking said photos into a locked folder on his phone that he visits quite frequently. is not as vocal about just how pussy drunk he gets, but his actions and stares make it obvious :DD

༘⋆₊˚ theo

now now.. i know people are gonna say yangie should be higher on the list, but personally, i think theo—whilst very much obsessed with eating you out—would get more drunk off of receiving pillow princess treatment? i know most people write him as a service dom but this man is lowkey the brattiest sub to exist in my eyes lol. can see him being greedy as hell. being fourth on this list and leaning submissive doesn’t mean he’s never pussy drunk tho! but i do think it’s less of a trait during sex, and more of a feeling he gets when he’s needy and missing you. i can see taeyang sniffing your unwashed panties and getting off to that like a little perv hehe

༘⋆₊˚ soul

now this was a bit difficult.. and shota is an enigma so it took me awhile to properly place him where he belongs. kind of like theo, i feel like he isn’t really the type to get pussy drunk during sex or foreplay or anything like that. instead, i think he’s just more obsessed with your other body parts and processes, like the way your tits bounce when he’s rutting into your heat, how you clench around his cock when he’s more vocal with you, how your moans eventually morph into little broken gasps. i think my main impression of being pussy drunk is being so obsessed, dazed, and brainless, but i just think soul would be a lot more aware when intimate, and not so easily lost in the sauce as the others lol

༘⋆₊˚ keeho

i can already hear the disgruntled keeho truthers making their way but before yall kill me.. hear me out.. i think of kyo as a hard dom majority of the time, so i really don’t think he would make it aware to you even if he was pussy drunk. i also think making you feel good would be his priority, and he wouldn’t pay much mind to his own pleasure until his girl was satisfied, so i just don’t think he’s got the time and drive to be pussy drunk! he’s on a mission to have you trembling with want, and he can’t really achieve that if he’s drooling with lust for your cunt :/ maybe it’s just the way i characterize him.. but i just think he and shota are more focused on other things during intimacy

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

༘⋆₊˚

[unreliablesnake]

You're reading what? (Ghost x reader x 141)

Summary: Soap finds out you're reading porn in your free time. Ghost decides to ask you about it.

Note: Barracks bunny, barracks bunny, barracks bunny! Sorry, reader's a slut. (affectionate) / I'll probably write more parts, maybe smut, maybe suggestive stuff, maybe fluff... I don't know yet. Check the #barracks bunny fics tag for more. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

It was Soap who found out what you were reading in your limited free time during missions. You left your Kindle on the table while you went to the bathroom, and he wanted to see what book you were so invested in lately. When he read the first two paragraphs, his jaw dropped and a wide grin crept on his face.

"Hey, LT, you won't believe what she's reading," he said while he checked the title of the book just to know what to check later.

Ghost rolled his eyes, completely uninterested at the moment. He was busy writing a report that was due by the end of the day, and he had promised Price that he would do it on time. So he didn't have time to think about what stupid novel you were currently reading.

But Soap didn't give up. He put the device back where it was before, then took the chair next to the lieutenant. "It's porn. I'm not joking, she's reading porn," he said excitedly, keeping his voice down as he spoke.

With mixture of disapproval and interest in his eyes, he turned to the sergeant and asked, "And?"

"What do you mean? She's reading porn. No wonder she dodges every question regarding the books she's reading all the time," he replied before he typed something into his phone. "Here, this is the one she's currently reading."

Ghost took the device from him and tapped on the first search result. He read the summary, then moved on to some quotes the users highlighted. It was interesting to say the least. Were you really into this type of stuff?

When they heard your voice from the hallway, Soap took back his phone and closed the browser before you entered the room again. To you it probably seemed like they were talking about the mission and the report Ghost was writing, and this is why the lieutenant felt a little bad for this invasion of your privacy.

After being on this mission for so long, he was obviously frustrated. He couldn't just go to a bar to pick up someone, and his hand was less and less satisfying these days. His mind recently began to travel back to you and your book, and one afternoon, when he had some unexpected free time, he found himself buying and downloading that novel on his phone.

He got quite far in a matter of hours, and he couldn't help himself when he found you alone in a room after dinner. Ghost sat down across from you and took the Kindle from your hands to take a look at it. "Still reading porn?" he asked teasingly.

You gulped, your cheeks probably burning from the embarrassment you clearly felt. "H–How do you know about that?" you asked him after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Soap stole this the other day," he replied as he gave back the device. "Don't worry, I think I'm the only one he told about this. Your secret's safe with me."

"I don't even want to know what you think about me now," you said with your head buried in your hands.

Ghost let out a dry laugh as he peeled your hands off your face. "Hey, it's okay. We spend way too much time here, I think it's safe to say we all need our fix one way or another," he assured you while holding your hand, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles into your skin.

Maybe he was flirting with you. The more he thought about you and what he had read in that novel, the more he wished he could do that in real life with you. He had always liked you; the disciplined, tough, but also kind soldier that got along with everyone on the team.

And the one Price played favorites with, he reminded himself. They all had their suspicions about the captain's motivation, believing he himself had a crush on you from the start. After all, why else would he bring you small gifts every time you met again? Why would he spend hours talking to you alone?

Sometimes Ghost wondered if there was anything between the two of you. Were you off-limits? Or was it a one-sided thing?

"And what do you do to get your fix?"

Your question brought him back to reality and he instinctively let go of your hand. He couldn't say that he jerked off to the thought of you. No, that would be way too creepy. So he shrugged, hoping this was enough to answer your question.

After a short pause, Ghost folded his hands on the table and leaned a little closer to you. "Have you ever tried anything that you read in your little books?" he asked you with a grin under the mask.

With your head tilted to the side, you watched him in silence for a while as you thought about your answer. "Do you even know what's in them exactly?"

"I began to read one of them. The one that reminded me of the Fifty Shades of Grey stories, only in a hardcore version," he replied casually.

An amused hum left your lips. "How do you even know what those stories are about? You don't seem to be the type who's into them."

Of course, Ghost had an answer to that. "I had an ex who made me watch the whole series. I didn't like it. Back to my question, have you tried anything from that book for example?"

"I have," you replied immediately, shamelessly grinning as you watched him.

It was hard to surprise Ghost these days, but hearing you answering so honestly definitely took him off guard. "The whole power play thing?" You nodded without hesitation as you took a sip of your soda. "With who?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, it doesn't," he admitted, knowing full well he probably wouldn't know that person anyway.

The pair of you sat there in silence for a while, your eyes locking every now and then before you flashed a smile at him then dived back into your book. He didn't mind, instead of complaining he just leaned back in the chair and watched you.

Ghost hated feeling this way, he hated that he could do nothing but wish for a cold shower in your presence. If he stood up now, you would surely notice how excited he was to be near you. He wanted to play with you too, he wanted to find out what you had learned from those books of yours.

Gaz walked into the room with a stupid smile on his face then put his hands on your shoulders as he leaned closer. "Price wants to see you," he announced before suddenly taking the ebook reader from you and taking a look at the page you were at. "Ooooh, another one? Do you even read anything else?"

Biting on your lower lip, you exhaled through your nose angrily. "I'm gonna kill Soap. I swear to God I'm gonna shoot him before we go home," you told them before snatching your Kindle from Gaz's hands and heading towards the door.

But on the way there you stopped behind Ghost and leaned down to his ear. He could feel your hot breath on his skin which made his cock twitch in his pants. Fuck, what were you doing to him?

"By the way, if you want to know more about what I want to try from those books, just say it. I'm sure we could arrange that," you added as your hand squeezed his shoulder.

Before he could say anything, you left the room, leaving him alone with Gaz. "Oh, you haven't figured it out yet," the sergeant said with a laugh.

"Figured out what?" Ghost asked, completely dumbfounded.

But Gaz only shrugged. "She's fun to be around. That's all I'm saying."

And with that, he left too. The lieutenant had absolutely no idea what to think. There were you, probably suggesting sleeping with him one day, and there was Gaz with his mysterious comment about you. As he let out a groan, he let his forehead hit the table with a loud thud. Why couldn't things be simple?

[eufezco]

Richie with wife reader. Soft!Richie only for his girls!! Anything at all. Fluff and a little suggestive. Tag me later!! Thanks!! :))

Richie asked you if you could stay with his daughter when Carmen called him from the restaurant to ask him for help. There was only a week left before the opening and even though Richie was on his day off, he could not ignore Carmen when he needed him.

It had been a couple of hours since he had left and little Eva was busy watching TV while you cooked dinner. She had asked a few times where her dad was but she felt comfortable enough with you to forget that Richie had been gone all afternoon. You both had watched a movie, made some drawings for Richie and Tiffany while you listened to Taylor Swift, you had prepared a snack for her when she woke up from her nap and now she was sitting on your couch in her pajamas, peacefully waiting for her daddy.

Richie opened the door of the house. —I'm sorry. I'm sorry. How are my sweetest girls? Oh, you missed me? —He asked his daughter when she stood from the couch and ran to him. Richie picked up the girl and hugged her while he walked towards you to give a quick kiss on your lips.

You hummed when Richie kissed you, glad that he was finally home and just in time for dinner. —We've really missed you —You were focused on mixing the pasta well with the sauce. —Do you wanna tell him why, Eva?

—We took a nap —. The little girl confessed and Richie acted hurt.

—You took a nap? Without me? — Richie asked and Eva laughed He smiled. —Was it good at least? —He asked and the girl nodded. Richie gave her another tight hug and devoured the little girl's face with kisses before putting her down on the floor and telling her to go and wait for him on the couch.

Once Eva was focused on the TV, Richie put his arms around your body, hugging you from behind and resting his head on your shoulder while you continued cooking.—I'm sorry, baby. I should've called to tell you that it was going to take longer.

—It's fine, Richie. You know I don't mind looking after her. We've had fun.

He hugged you tighter, you had always been so sweet to his daughter and Eva loved spending time with you. Tiffany had played a big part in it, you both had a lot of respect for each other and she had helped to bring her daughter's relationship with you closer.

—You're gonna be the best mom in the world.

You hummed again. Richie, with his head tucked on your neck, tickled you with his beard. You closed your eyes, feeling Richie's hands caressing your belly over your clothes. You wanted nothing more than to be a mother to his kids, but with all the chaos after the wedding and the opening of the restaurant, you had been too busy to stop and think about it.

—Why don't we start now? —He murmured in your ear. Richie's hands started slowly moving from your belly to the elastic of your pajama pants. His face on your neck started kissing your skin there. You bit your lower lip and stopped mixing the pasta to give him a gentle slap on his hands to get him to behave.

—Richie, Eva's here —. You whispered.

He huffed and let his forehead fall on your shoulder. You giggled at his reaction and put one of your hands on his head to caress his hair. He closed his eyes and enjoyed your touch. Richie didn't want to show you how overwhelmed he was with everything related to the restaurant opening, but he didn't have to because you already knew. You both worked there, you knew how it worked. The only thing that made you relax these days was coming home together and realizing that you had each other. Marrying you was the best decision he had ever made in his life, there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think about how lucky he was.

—Dinner's almost ready. Why don't you go and take a shower?

Richie nodded and let his arms go from around your body. You turned around and kissed his lips. He showed you a satisfied little smile and went in for another kiss. Then, Richie walked over to the couch and planted a kiss on the top of Eva's head, who was too distracted by the TV.

—Wait —. You said before he went into the bathroom. Richie turned and saw you walking to where he was. His blue eyes lit up.

—Want to join me? —He asked excited. You nodded and his excitement grew. Richie's great imagination was already working and he couldn't have liked more all the images that went through his mind.

—We won't take long.

—We won't?

You shook your head and laughed. His daughter was there and the dinner was ready but food could wait and if Eva needed anything she could knock on the door or just call you, your apartment was not that big, and you would hear her just fine. By the time you finished thinking about it, the bathroom door was already closed and Richie's lips were on yours while he pulled on the hem of your pajama shirt.

@pear-1206 <333

[biteyoubiteme]

Happy 1k!!!!

Now beautiful, I'd like a Vampire!TXT thoughts/hc and of course some biting i know you like that and make it suggestive

me to you tonight

vampire!txt headcanons

warnings:🔞!!! fem!reader, mentions of blood, biting, oral (f!rec) prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.0k total

an: ily mae thank you, you're making me blush, if anyone was going to bite me I would ask you first. I hope you like this! also your yeonjun posts about him being a phlebotomist (and my babysitter's a vampire) influenced taehyuns part <333

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

yeonjun .ᐟ

very into keeping his hands on you because of your warmth, loves to feel how your flush travels along your body when he traces patterns on you. Feeling you blush is even better when you're making out. Loves to feel the heat in your cheeks while he cups them, peppering kisses anywhere he feels the blush has spread. Will bite your ass just to leave a mark. Loves to bite your thighs. Loves when he lays his head in your lap and you play with his hair. Easy for him to just twist around and nip at your flesh, will kiss over the marks he makes to get the blood on his lips. Kisses exchanged so you can taste yourself. Loves to eat you out with the taste of your blood in his mouth. His two favorite flavors mixing drives him insane. Let’s his fangs brush over your clit just to see you jump. Could spend hours going between feeding on your blood and your wetness. 

soobin .ᐟ

an obsessive biter without even realizing it. So confused to see teeth marks all over you like he wasn't the one doing it. Loves to bite over your heart, teeth sinking right into your breast. Dragging his teeth over your sides and along your ribcage before nipping at your sensitive nipples. Loves to get you low cut tops so that he can see all the little healing marks he's left on your cleavage. Loves to overfeed, your reaction is so similar to overstimulation that it gets him going just as much. He will take the best care of you as you recover from long nights where he couldn't contain himself. Spendslots of time cuddling, fingers tracing over every puncture mark he's made with his fangs, connecting the dots like constellations. Will ask to feed whenever and wherever unashamed about his need to taste you at all times. Will bury his face into the crook of your neck and huff if you say no. But you give in soon enough after all his soft kisses over your pulse.

beomgyu .ᐟ

has the best sense of sound and smell. Loves to tease you about hearing your heartbeat, can tell it’s you from a mile away just from the sound alone. He constantly jumps out from behind corners just to sense the way your blood pressure jumps, even better when he can tell just by walking in a room that he affects you. “Aww, do you think I'm pretty?” and even as you try to deny it he can hear the rhythm of your heart giving away your lies. Loves to be a lie detector, asking you questions he knows you would never really answer honestly in the beginning but why even hide now? He wants to know everything about you. Now you just purposefully lie because you know he can tell the difference. Can tell as soon as a single horny thought enters your head. You're his favorite smell in the world. Will buy a hoodie for the two of you to share, passing it from you to him just so he can keep your scent close to him at all times. Is a lip-biter when you make out just so that he can have your blood in the mix, keeps all your dirty clothes, and regularly masturbates with them pressed to his nose without shame. 

taehyun .ᐟ

is very picky about who he feeds from and it has everything to do with taste and smell, believing he won't ever find the perfect person. He works at a blood bank as a phlebotomist, never tempted to drink anything he draws because of his self-control and distaste. That is until he gets you in his chair. Absolutely overwhelmed by the sensation of hunger for what felt like the first time in his life. He's never had shaking hands when trying to insert a needle before but as soon as he leans in he can't do his job calling someone else to take over. Claiming he couldn't find a vein when he was known for never missing one. He watched the way his coworker discarded the gauze that had wiped away the dots of blood from your elbow ditch, making sure to note exactly where they had thrown them away. He wasn't even ashamed to have pulled them out when no one was looking, taking them into the bathroom because he couldn't wait to get home. Pressing the fabric to his nose as he shoved his free hand down his pants, not caring about being at work when he finally found exactlywhat he had been waiting for.  

Taehyun also gives me a vampire x vampire vibe so much. Worships his vampire mate because it is what he was made to do. 

kai .ᐟ

likes to hold hands because he can feel your pulse between your fingers. Always kisses your wrist, likes to keep it on his lips just to feel the warmth. Will ask you if he can just keep holding your wrist up through movies and cuddling. He asks so often that you're already ready, laying down letting him rest his head on one arm while the other is pressed right under his nose. Never bites you; actively avoids the topic like the plague, is tempted but never indulges, won't even ask.It's��why when he finally does bite you both of you are so shocked, unable to think about exactly what's happening. Bites in a moment of passion, his moan against your neck making his teeth scratch along your smooth skin, biting down without being able to resist any longer. Both of you have the best orgasms of your lives. He's so apologetic, kissing over the mark he left, begging you to forgive him and yet it turns into desperate pleas for him to do it again and again. “I'm so sorry i- I didn't mean to, I just- you just- please, please, I need to taste you again, I'm sorry-” looks at you like you set the moon in the sky when you say he can. Hazy puppy dog eyes on you, soft grin on his lips when he's gotten his fill, strictly only biting you during sex, leaving the both of you sated and happy after. 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[elvensorceress]

In all the excitement about bi!Buck, (which— yay! Amazing! Very exciting! No notes!) I think there’s a part of this story we’re missing. I haven’t seen anyone talk about it, so have some rambling.

 It wasn’t just Buck who looked at this experienced, older, queer man and wanted to know him. It was also Eddie. 

We have never seen Eddie go so hard, so immediately for anyone. To the point his best friend of years felt like he was being ignored by him. Yes, Buck wanted Tommy’s attention for obvious reasons. But he was also slighted by the perceived lack of attention from Eddie. 

Suddenly, Eddie is spending multiple times a week going out with this man. Going to Vegas with this man. Working out with him, working on his car with him, doing karaoke and trivia night with him? Asking his alleged girlfriend to babysit more than once so that he can go out with Tommy? Obviously, it was from jealous!Buck’s point of view, but seriously. If Buck felt ignored, what is Marisol even thinking? Did Eddie bother to make time for his new girlfriend? What spare time would he even have if they work several 24 hour shifts and he’s also gone out with Tommy at least three times in one week? And is probably planning more?

Not that I think Eddie’s feelings for Tommy are necessarily in the same vein as Buck’s feelings for Tommy. But my gosh, Eddie giggly and kicking his feet and twirling his hair while on the phone with Tommy was so very loud. And actually a pretty neat contrast to being distracted and trying to text Marisol “hey mari it me eddie” to ask her out. Eddie’s sudden infatuation with Tommy was a thousand times more than anything we’ve seen from him for anyone. Considering that what he stated he wanted was the magical chemistry he’d found when he and Shannon got together, like… is that not what he just found with Tommy? 

Again, it doesn’t necessarily mean Eddie has any explicit romantic or sexual attraction toward Tommy. I suppose he could? But the point is more that wow, there is some kind of intense draw pulling Eddie to him even if we interpret it as platonic. 

Buck says at the end of the ep that they met this guy and he was so cool and Buck wanted to get to know him. Which makes sense given that Buck is canonically crushing on him and going to be dating him. But Eddie was actually the one who got there first. Eddie also had a reaction somewhere along those lines of “he’s really cool, I need to know him” to the point where he’s all of a sudden spending most if not all of his free time with him. 

And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this person Eddie wants to spend time with is an experienced, out queer man who is comfortable in his own sexuality and his own masculinity. (He has so much in common with Eddie! They have so many similar interests! They have a magical click together that makes Eddie want to be around him all the time! There’s so much they can do together!) 

Eddie might not have even known it, maybe in the same way Buck also didn’t know it, but Eddie definitely latched onto that, too. Which is very interesting, no? Very— queers finding each other and bonding over shared experiences even before they know that’s what they’re doing. 

It can easily be someone who is likely confused about their own feelings but knows they are having certain feelings just not the names to put to those feelings, and consequently seeking guidance and reassurance that there are other people who are just like them who have these feelings as well. It’s realizing how they can be themselves, that they can be queer in a way that fits who they are instead of what they might conceptualize as queer because of stereotypes and preconceived notions. It’s learning you can be you and also be queer. That there are people like you out there. 

Eddie found something with Tommy that he hasn’t been shown to have found anywhere else. It’s a new and different thing for him, too. And if it were just about excitement over a new friend, why is it so much so quickly all at once? Eddie’s a social person. He’s a friendly, charming, charismatic person. He has friends. But it feels like this is a very different sort of friendship for him. 

And the fact that this is the same man who just gave Buck his bisexual awakening is verrrry inch resting. 

Also regardless of what kind of feelings Eddie and Tommy might have been having for each other, they were so going on dates. Flying someone to Vegas because you have tickets that have been sold out for weeks to something they enjoy? Like damn Eddie. You pulled a sugar daddy. 

Anyway. Eddie is queer, too. Double sexuality awakenings, ready go!

That is all! 💕

[sunshinescribes]

Hi! Can I request how law would react if his partner calls him baby or babe (any pet names) by accident in front of everyone? The crew doesn’t really know but they got a feeling they’re dating

Baby

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x GN!Reader

Warning: Established Relationship, Heart Pirates shenanigans, Soft Law, Reader is stupid in love with Law (as we all are)

You swear you can hear color and see sound…or at least you feel like you can.

Pulling an all-nighter working on internal ship repairs seemed like such a good idea in theory. It felt like pure genius on your part, being able to avoid the headache of having to work around your unruly crewmates—or worse, having to stop completely.

You love them, you really do, but your fellow Heart Pirates are a rowdy bunch. You don’t entirely blame them, though. It’s difficult being stuck in the ocean’s depths for days on end, missing the blinding sun and salty sea air—you hunger for it just as much as anyone, but when denied, you’d at least like to make certain that the Polar Tang is able to get you all to your next destination in one piece.

All your hard work and good intentions, and yet you had failed to consider one pivotal component: how long it would take to complete your repairs. The hours had passed in the blink of an eye, and much to your surprise, your late-night work had spilled into the early morning hours.

 You wonder how Law does it. He spends nights nose-deep in medical texts or hunched over his desk, flipping between scrolls and maps with ease. The dark circles under his eyes are a clear sign that he doesn’t get nearly as much sleep as he needs, but he moves and thinks like a fully rested man. Even when you slip into his room in the late hours, mindful of making sure your crewmates don’t know where you run off to, you find Law at his desk, lost in that brilliant mind of his.

He makes it look good, but you aren’t so sure you can say the same. You trudge down the narrow halls of the Polar Tang like an undead creature—sluggish and half-alert.

But you’re so close. Nearly done with your work. All you need is just one final push, a little boost to keep you on the mend. You can already taste the creamy milk and rich espresso on your tongue, topped with a dribble of caramel, just for that additional burst of energy. Yes, that’s exactly what you need.

You feel like you could float into the mess hall if you weren’t so worn. You nearly stumble as you push your way inside, avoiding Bepo while he rushes to his seat with Shachi and Penguin in tow. The trio is already deep in an argument that you can’t quite make out but know isn’t even worth listening to. You swear those three share blood, even if Bepo isn’t human.

Ikkaku is already seated, protecting her plate from Hakugan, who still can’t seem to grasp the concept of keeping his grubby little hands out of other people's plates, no matter how many times Ikkaku or Jean Bart try to beat it into him.

Others slip in and out of the mess hall, exchanging a kind greeting or snide remark before shuffling to their stations.

You hear Law before you see him, his rich voice carrying through the crowded space as he calmly explains to Uni that the Polar Tang will have to make port soon. You can’t help but stare. Even in your hazy, sleep-deprived state, Law is still the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Reliable as always, Uni nods before rushing to the control room. Law catches sight of you as you stagger towards the counter. His expression is flat, his lips pulled in a tight line, but you notice the softness in his eyes. No matter how convincing his scowl may be, his eyes are always so telling—the singular piece of his soul he can’t hide.

He shifts closer, leaving a respectable space so as not to draw attention to you two. “Good morning.”

You yawn the greeting back unceremoniously, and god, you swear you feel your heart stutter when you glimpse the smile he’s trying so hard to hide.

“Late night?”

Your response is a tired hum. A joke sits comfortably on your tongue, but you can’t compel yourself to say it. You need your morning boost before you fall face-flat on the floor. You glance up at the cupboard, too tired to struggle.

“Baby,” you call, your voice slightly slurred, “can you pass me a cup?"

Law reaches above you, finding the mug you always seem to gravitate to—it’s nearly in his hands before he stops suddenly.

He stands as still as a statue, and you know your confusion is evident. 

The sudden silence that falls over the room doesn’t help. You can’t make out the usual jokes and jabs shared at the tables. No clattering forks. No loud, obnoxious slurping.

Did you push yourself too far? Is this what sleep-deprivation psychosis feels like?

“…baby?” Penguin questions.

Oh.

Oh shit.

The voices come all at once. A shrill cry from Bepo. Shocked laughter from Jean Bart. Shachi and Penguin yell over each other, triumphantly claiming they knew it. The only person who seems wholly unaffected is Ikkaku, who shoots you a knowing grin before returning her attention to her plate.

You glance at Law, who glares at his crew as a multitude of questions are fired his way. Each inquiry is louder than the last, and voices begin to blend as your crewmates shout over each other, desperately trying to get to the bottom of your secret relationship.

Maybe it’s the sleep-deprived delirium that makes the situation funnier than it actually is, because you laugh. Inelegant and uncontrolled. You shoot Law an apologetic glance, attempting to look as guilty as you feel, but from the way your shoulders shake and your lip quivers, you know you look anything but.

You expect his signature scowl—the look that makes marines blood run cold—but you receive something far sweeter—that surprised, uncertain smile that makes Law look years younger. His irritation has a habit of fading when you laugh, as if your joy is contagious.

He ignores the cries of his crew, finally passing you your cup.

“Sorry,” you whisper, trying to sound regretful, but your voice sounds far too cherry, laced with laughter.

“Don’t be.” There’s a devious glint in his golden eyes, and you hear the tell-tale sound of his room being created before you even see the blue film that contains it. “You have to deal with them now.”

You swear you hear that snarky chuckle of his, but he’s gone too quick, replaced with a crumpled piece of paper. There’s a moment of silence, a temporary peace, before all eyes fall on you, and the questions spill forth once more.

A/N: I WANT TO APOLOGIZE FOR TAKING SO LONG TO FINISH THIS REQUEST!! Despite that, I hope you enjoyed!

divider credit: cafekitsune