#so i apologize if it's taking me a long time to reply to threads or even if i haven't been super talkative on discord

[obito-in-disguise]

| How they handle falling for you, realistically |

Featuring: Gojo Satoru, Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji, Geto Suguru, and Kamo Choso.

Gojo Satoru

When Gojo Satoru realizes he's fallen for you, hard, he starts avoiding you completely.

Beneath his playful and confident exterior was an eerily serious demeanour that you rarely ever got to see, until now.

It hurt like hell.

Satoru went from showering you with his affection and time, to giving you curt responses and zero contact. The worst part? When you approached, he’d immediately turn away or take a long detour. As if the mere sight of you was too much.

His eyes widen when you suddenly burst into the supply closet he's been hiding in for the past twenty minutes, hurling a cardboard box filled with gifts and items he’d given you directly at his face the moment he opens his mouth to speak.

"Save it, Satoru. I don’t care anymore."

He grips the box tightly, knuckles white. The sorrow in your eyes was like a blade piercing through him, exactly what he didn’t want.

He hadn’t meant to hurt you. He’d convinced himself that distancing himself was the easiest way to end this. God, he was an idiot.

Quickly, he shoots up, grabbing your arm the moment you turn to walk away. He'd be damned if he didn't try to do something.

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

His voice is softer than usual, almost a whisper, in stark contrast to the force with which he holds onto your arm.

You inhale a shaky breath. "You could’ve just told me you didn’t feel the same way." Your gaze flickers anywhere but at him, fighting back the tears. This whole situation was humiliating.

As soon as the tears well up in your eyes, he instinctively pulls you into a crushing hug. He couldn’t stand to see you cry, especially because of him.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he repeats, voice trembling. "You deserve better…and that isn’t me. I’m no good for you." His face buries into the top of your hair, his words a whisper, pained and filled with regret.

That was it? That’s why he made you feel like garbage? You sigh, exhaling a breath of relief before pulling back and smacking his shoulder as hard as you can.

"-What…ow…" he clutches his arm, wide blue eyes staring at you in disbelief.

"You’re an idiot, Satoru" you say, softly this time, your hand gently caressing the spot you hit in a silent apology, but you grip it when you see him open his mouth to argue.

"I'm not a child, Satoru. I think I can decide what's good for me." You offer a small smile, one that immediately melts away all his defenses.

"And that’s you."

Ryomen Sukuna

Falling for someone was not in Sukuna's nature. Love was a weakness, a frivolity that he had neither the patience nor interest for. Yet, there you were, pulling threads of his attention he hadn’t willingly given.

You had been a prize he claimed during one of his many raids, a servant he’d kept around because, quite frankly, he found you amusing. He’d given you several opportunities to flee, and yet, you stubbornly stayed, either stupid or somehow enjoying his presence.

"You’re staring again" you said, not even looking up from the book you were reading.

"I can look at whatever I want. This is my kingdom" he replied, his voice low and dripping with amusement.

You snorted. "You're so humble too…"

His grin widened, sharp and predatory. "Careful, brat. I don’t take kindly to disrespect."

But his words lacked the venom they usually carried. He found himself indulging in this back-and-forth, this bizarre game where you didn’t fear him, where you met his taunts head-on. It was thrilling in ways he didn’t quite understand.

"Or what?" you say, flippantly lifting your feet and crossing them on top of his expensive furniture.

The other servants gasped in horror, half-expecting him to snap, but he simply barked out a laugh, flashing his sharp claws in a half-hearted scare.

"Care to find out?" he challenged, dragging one long talon up your pulse point.

Your eyes flicker to his, unimpressed. You yawn and put the book away before grabbing the hand by your neck, cuddling into it and closing your eyes.

Yep. He knew he had definitely fallen when he found himself staying still, barely breathing, so as not to disturb you as you fell asleep, resting against his large hand, a weapon of death and mass destruction.

As you slept soundly, he watched you in the dim light. He could end you with a flick of his wrist, yet the thought was unthinkable. You trapped him in a web of contradictions, frustrating, fascinating, infuriating.

Leaning closer, his voice softens into something almost contemplative as he whispers, "Congratulations, brat. You’ve done the unthinkable."

To love wasn’t his intention. But Sukuna didn’t play fair. If he was falling, he’d make sure you fell harder, and there would be no escape.

Nanami Kento

The realization hit him one evening when you insisted on walking with him home after a long mission.

Every one usually went home in groups or pairs depending on where they lived, but Nanami never had anyone to walk with him.

It wasn’t necessary, he told himself he couldn't care less but, there was something about being left alone that chipped at the human soul.

“You don’t have to do this” he said, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets to avoid brushing against yours.

You simply smile up at him. “But I want to.”

He kept replaying that simple statement over and over. It wasn’t extravagant or particularly sentimental, but it struck him.

"Besides, I think it's about time we become best friends don't you think Kento?"

He stares at you for a good minute wandering if you were crazy. He wasn't the most approachable of persons and he liked it that way, but here you were walking him home and extending an offer of best friendship to him like this was kindergarten.

If Nanami wasn't enthralled before, then he definitely was now.

He takes your heavy bag from your hand before slinging it over his shoulder, ignoring your look of surprise and subsequent grin of victory.

Having somebody to walk with home everyday wouldn't be that bad he decides.

"Consider this a formal acceptance"

Fushiguro Toji

“Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?” he grumbled, though the corner of his lips twitched upward when you laughed.

Toji wasn’t the type to fall for anyone anymore. Life had made him hard, and love had never been a luxury he could afford.

But you? You were the exception he never saw coming.

“Bother you? I’m the best company you’ll ever get, Fushiguro.”

He only said things like that to hopefully deter you but you didn’t back down, and somehow, that was what broke down his walls.

Every sharp comment, every cold glance he threw your way, you met with puzzling warmth instead.

He hated how easily you got under his skin, how he found himself looking forward to the moments you’d spend together, even if it was just you rambling about nothing while he pretended not to care.

Toji knew he wasn’t a good man. He didn’t deserve you, and he knew it. But the way you looked at him, like he was more than just the sum of his past mistakes, made him want to believe, even just for a moment, that he could be something more.

He sighs, wrapping his arm around you and all but pulling you into his side as he continues to watch TV lazily, the ghost of a smile on his lips when he hears you giggle.

This was going to be a pain, but when was Fushiguro Toji ever afraid of pain?

Geto Suguru

"Is it to your liking?" Suguru asked with his usual charm, his head resting on his fist as he played with your hair, sitting across from you.

Suguru could feel his heart pounding louder when you smiled and nodded before sipping the tea he made.

He’d always been selfish, he knew it. He shouldn’t let himself feel this way, shouldn’t let himself dream of a life where you smiled at him every day.

You had no idea what he harbored, what he was about to become. No matter how hard he tried to rid himself of these thoughts, you’d seep into his mind relentlessly.

"What are you thinking of Sugu?" you asked, setting your cup aside and intertwining your hand with his on the table.

He simply smiled in response, pulling your hand to his lips to place a lingering kiss.

He would let himself fall for you, indulge in you, before he had to let you go, before you would eventually face the horrors he would become.

Kamo Choso

You nearly jump out of your skin when you turn around and immediately come face to face with Choso.

"Choso! what are you doing!"

He immediately takes a few steps back "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you"

You sigh nodding. Staying mad at Choso is impossible, especially when he looks at you like that, like a kicked puppy.

"I have strange feelings for you" he immediately blurts out as soon as he sees that you're ok.

The confession stops you in your tracks. “What?” you ask, eyes widening.

"When I'm around you, my heart feels funny, and the other day when that guy put his hand on your shoulder, I wanted to rip his guts out-"

"woah! ok Choso, I get it" you chuckle, patting his shoulder.

"I just wanted you to know" he murmurs softly, fiddling with his fingers. He knew people got together when they had these strange feelings for eachother and more than ever he wanted that to be you and him. So he had to tell you, even if you didn't feel the same way. You were a chance he was always willing to gamble on.

"Well Choso..." you start, grabbing his hand softly before stepping closer. "Today's your lucky day because I have strange feelings for you too"

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he can't stop himself. He scoops you up into a bone crushing hug, laughing along with you. Even if you hadn't said yes, Choso was more than grateful to have you in his life.

Feel free to check out my other Jujutsu Kaisen fics and more stories!

[connorsui]

In Your Arms

Zayne x reader

Genre/warnings: pure fluff, boyfriend zayne wanting peace and you give it, manz wanna make u a wife, no warnings we don't die around here...

Synopsis: Zayne finds solace in the warmth of your presence amidst the chaos of his demanding career, and silently, he cherishes every moment, hoping one day to make your bond official

Note: I wanted doctor zayne to cure my heart ....so I made doctor zayne want to make me a wife ...

w.c: 1,070

Zayne’s footsteps echoed softly in the sterile, dimly lit hospital corridor, his mind still entangled in the complexities of the latest surgery he’d performed. His shoulders were tense, a slight frown creasing his usually composed expression as he made his way out of the building. It had been another long day, filled with the kind of high-stakes decisions that most people couldn’t fathom. But as soon as he saw you waiting for him by the entrance, your face lighting up at the sight of him, something in him softened.

The sight of you there, with your soft smile and eyes that sparkled just for him, made the world tilt back into place. The weight of the day fell away, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply bask in the warmth of your presence. He didn’t need to say anything; the way his eyes lingered on you, tracing the curve of your lips and the gentle slope of your shoulders, spoke volumes.

“Hi, Love! ” you greeted him, your voice a gentle balm to his frayed nerves.

“Hello, Sweetheart” he replied, his tone low and warm, the single word carrying a weight of unspoken affection. His hands itched to reach out, to pull you into his arms right there in front of everyone, but Zayne had always been careful with his emotions, especially in public. Instead, he settled for a small, almost imperceptible smile that you had come to recognize as his version of a bear hug.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the soft rustle of your clothing the only sound in the quiet night air. It wasn’t until you were inside his car, the doors closed, and the world shut out, that he allowed himself the luxury of touch. His hand reached out, fingers lightly grazing yours before he intertwined them, the simple gesture grounding him in a way nothing else could.

“I would like to first apologize to you …” he murmured after a few minutes, his voice laced with the kind of guilt that came from too many late nights and missed dinners.

Surprised; you questioned. “What for exactly?”

“I just know I haven’t been around much.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, offering him a soft, understanding smile. “Zayne, It's alright… I know you’re doing everything you can…But…let's focus on the now.. is there anything I can do to make your night better?”

He turned his head to look at you, his gaze searching your face for any sign of fatigue or frustration. Instead, he found only warmth and concern, your eyes silently urging him to let you take care of him for once. The tension in his chest eased a fraction, and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Just being with you makes everything better,” he admitted, his voice rough with the weight of the day. “I don’t need anything else… just you.”

The ride to his apartment was filled with quiet conversation, the kind that flowed easily between two people who were entirely comfortable with each other. When you arrived, Zayne wasted no time pulling you close as soon as the door clicked shut behind you. His arms wrapped around you, his head resting on your chest as he exhaled deeply, finally allowing himself to relax.

“You’re so tense,” you murmured, your fingers instinctively threading through his hair, the familiar motion soothing both of you. “Why don’t you let me run you a bath? Or make you some tea?”

He tightened his hold on you, shaking his head slightly as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “No, just… this is what I need. You’re what I need.”

The way he clung to you, as if letting go would mean losing the one thing keeping him grounded, made your heart ache with a mix of love and concern. He was always so strong, so capable, but even Zayne had his limits, and you could see that he’d reached them tonight.

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” you suggested softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “You deserve to rest.”

He nodded against you, and you led him to his bedroom, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light over the room. Zayne moved with a quiet grace, his every action deliberate as he turned to face you, his hands settling on your waist.

“I’m sorry I’m not more… put together tonight,” he murmured, his eyes heavy with exhaustion as he leaned in to rest his forehead against yours.

“You don’t have to be anything other than yourself with me,” you whispered back, your hands coming up to cup his face. “I love you just as you are, Zayne.”

His breath hitched slightly at your words, and he pressed his lips to yours in a slow, lingering kiss that made your heart swell with emotion. There was no rush, no urgency—just the deep, abiding love that had grown between you over time, steady and unshakable.

When he pulled back, his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, his eyes meeting yours in silent question. You nodded, and he carefully lifted your shirt over your head, his hands warm against your skin as he undressed you with the same precision he used in surgery.

Once you were both stripped down; Zayne pulled you into bed, his arms wrapping around you as he settled you against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, a comforting rhythm beneath your ear as you laid together in the quiet.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his lips brushing the top of your head.

“It’s perfect,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin.

Zayne smiled against your hair, his hold on you tightening slightly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. In that moment, with you wrapped up in his arms, he felt complete, as if all the pieces of his life had finally fallen into place.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “ — to be here with you… it’s all I need.”

You nestled closer, your heart swelling with love for the man who had given so much of himself to others, yet asked for so little in return. “I’m here, Zayne. I’m always here.”

As you drifted off to sleep, Zayne couldn’t help but think about how much he wanted this—wanted you—every day for the rest of his life. And one day, he would make that dream a reality. But for now, he was content to hold you close, savoring the warmth of your body against his as he followed you into sleep.

Doctor zayne with a need for you is the only man I will ever need

[ssweetreveries]

(not so) quiet night

✩ seonghwa x reader

. 18+ mdni!

. word count! 1.7k

{one shot, smut, nonidol!seonghwa, softdom!seonghwa, afab!reader, sub!reader, pet names, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), oral sex (f.receiving), consent consent consent!!, fluff, it’s just very loving and sweet}

a.n i apologize if there’s any mistakes, this isn’t proof read and english isn’t my first language, please bare with me!! enjoy! ><

synopsis . after a hard day at work, your boyfriend makes you feel better.

Arriving home after a long day at work, all you wanted to do was relax. You were exhausted and wanted nothing more but to find comfort in your boyfriend’s embrace. But he wasn’t home right now, so you opted to wait for him on the couch, huddle up in blankets. You grabbed the remote and put a random series on Netflix. – Almost an hour passed until you heard the rattle of keys and the door being unlocked. Your eyes lit up the second they landed on his figure entering your shared apartment. “Hwa!” You exclaimed while jumping off the couch to make your way to him. “Hello to you too” he replied with a chuckle, before dropping his briefcase and engulfing you in a big hug. You smiled ravishing in the all to familiar warmth you so longed for, burying your face in his chest and inhaling his homey scent. “Well isn’t someone happy to see me today” he says, the prettiest smile decorating his features, showing you his pearly whites. 

“I missed you so much, hwa.” you murmur against his chest. He pats your hair softly, his other arm wrapped lovingly around your waist. “Bad day, hmm?” he asks. You nod and look up at him with a small smile, “yeah, but it’s already better now that you’re here.” He leans down and drops a quick peck to your lips, “mmm yeah?” You giggle and press your lips against his once again. Seonghwa is quick to respond to your kiss, lips moving together in a familiar rhythm. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and you gladly let him in. 

You moan softly at the feeling of his tongue swirling around yours, and you can feel him smirk against your mouth. Seonghwa pushes you back softly until your back hits the wall, his lips never leaving yours. His hands snake up your shirt, brushing sensually up and down your sides. Your breath hitches at the feel of his cold hands on your body. “Hwa..” you whisper against his lips. He pulls back and looks at you with a playful grin, “hmm?” he hums, continuing to rub his hands down your sides, finding their resting spot against your plush ass. “What’s the matter, love?” he says teasingly. 

“Hwa, please, I need you..” you whisper. 

“Yeah? Let’s take this to the bedroom,” he says. 

You nod and Seonghwa lifts you up, carrying you bridal-style all the way to your shared bedroom. He gently drops you back to your feet, and sits down on the edge of the bed. “C’mere,” he says, pulling you along until you’re standing in between his legs. He pats his lap and you take the cue to sit on him, straddling him in the process. Your lips find his once more, not being able to wait any longer before tasting him again. His hands find their previous spot under your shirt, massaging your sides, all the while kissing you back. 

You bite on his bottom lip, and Seonghwa purrs at your neediness. His hands find the clasp of your bra and undo it. He pulls back from your kiss for a second, “Can I take this off, love?” he asks. You nod and let him take off your shirt, slipping off your bra in the process. His lips immediately attach to your collarbone, nipping at your skin and leaving a mark. A soft moan leaves your lips at the feeling of his mouth on your skin. He then directs his attention to your chest, leaving love bites all over before taking one in his mouth. You gasp as Seonghwa swirls his tongue around your sensitive bud, toying with your other breast at the same time. 

Your body arches into him, soft moans leaving your lips at all the attention he’s giving you. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging here and there. Seonghwa pulls back with a groan, “Am I making you feel good, love?” 

You nod with flushed cheeks, “So good, hwa..” 

Seonghwa smiles, satisfied with your answer. “I can make you feel even better, can you lay down for me?” he asks with a smile. You hum and let him help you off his lap. He softly pushes you down, your body hitting the bed with a soft thud. 

Seonghwa stands up, un-doing the buttons of his dress shirt before tossing it away. Getting rid of his other articles of clothing in the process, leaving him only with his briefs on. He makes his way back to the bed, crawling over you and caging you under his much bigger body. He drops another kiss to your lips before making his way down your body, peppering kisses everywhere. 

His fingers hook around the waistband of your pants, gently tugging. “Is this okay?” he whispers, his hot breath against your stomach making you shiver. 

“Y-yeah, please,” you answer him through a shaky breath. 

After discarding your pants somewhere in the room, he pulls down your panties as well, licking his lips. You look down at him, feeling shy now fully exposed to him. No matter how long you’ve been together or how many times you’ve done it, he always manages to make you nervous and have those butterflies appear in your stomach. 

Seonghwa starts by kissing and nipping at your inner thighs, purposely avoiding your sweet spot to tease you. “Hwa, please,” you whine. He looks up at you with a smirk. “Please, what?” 

“I need you, hwa,” you plead. He chuckles lightly, “And where would you need me, love?” 

He kisses your stomach one last time before going lower and softly blowing on your aching core. “Here?” he cooed. You let out a gasp at the sensation, nodding furiously. 

Seonghwa smirks, before licking a strip up your wet cunt, making you moan. “O-oh,” 

He chuckles, “This wet, already? And all for me?” 

You whimper, embarrassed, but Seonghwa only seems amused, going back down to lap at your juices. “You taste so sweet, love. I could do this all night.” 

You moan at his words, and Seonghwa delves back in, tongue playing with your sensitive nub. You throw your head back, your hand finding his head and pushing him harder against your core. His mouth on you bringing you to an ecstatic state. “H-hwa, more,” you whimper, “I need more, I need you.” 

He looks up at you with a sly smile, “I want to make you cum on my fingers first, baby.” He says as he pushes a finger into your tight hole. You choke on a moan, “f-fuck, hwa,”

He toys with your clit, gently nibbling at it as he enters a second finger, causing your hips to buck against him. 

With a third finger and his tongue playing with your sensitive bud, you can feel yourself getting drowned in pleasure, your orgasm nearing as your legs start to shake from all the stimulation. Seonghwa smirks against you as he can feel you tighten around his fingers. “Are you close, love?” 

You nod desperately as you arch your back against him, chasing your high. After a few more pumps of his fingers, you come undone, coating his mouth with your arousal. He pulls back looking up at you with a dumb smile, your juices dripping down his chin, before delving back in and lapping at you like a starved man. You cry out at the overstimulation, tugging on his hair, but he doesn’t stop until he’s licked up every last drop of you. 

“How was that?” he asks teasingly. 

“It was good hwa,” you giggle, “more than good.” 

He purrs before connecting his lips with yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss is dizzying, his tongue swirling around yours in a way that leaves you breathless. His body is pressed against yours and you can feel his hard on against your thigh. 

Your lips never leave his as your hand slowly makes its way down to softly grab him through his briefs. Now this makes his breath hitch and he pulls away from the kiss momentarily. “Baby..” he groans.

“I want you, hwa..” you coo, pulling down his underwear and wrapping your hand around his throbbing cock. A soft moan escapes his lips at your touch, “fuck, baby, I need you.” he grunts, dropping a last quick kiss to your lips before aligning himself with your entrance. 

“Can I put it in, baby? I need you to tell me, please,” he breathes out, needily. 

“Yes, p-please, hwa, I want you,” you answer quickly.

With your approval he pushes his cock inside you, bottoming out. You choke on your moan, not expecting him to fully go in immediately. “F-fuck.” you mutter under your breath. 

“Sorry, baby” he whispers and kisses your cheek. “I’m gonna move now okay?” 

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him to you. Seonghwa starts moving, slowly at first, gradually increasing his speed. “Fuck..” he groans, “you feel so good baby.” 

You moan, his length hitting all the right spots. Seonghwa kisses you deeply as he angles you at a better angle, being able to reach even deeper inside you.

“Seonghwa!” you cry out his name as his hips snap against you, reaching that one spot that makes you see stars. 

“Fuck, baby, your clenching so hard around me,” he chuckles, voice raspy. “I don’t think I can hold back much longer.”

“M-me too, s’ close, ms’ close, hwa!” you whine as your legs tremble, feeling light-headed from all the pleasure. 

“S-shit, where do you want me, love?” Seonghwa moans out. 

“Inside, hwa! I want you inside, please, fuck–!” you cry out. 

With a final snap of his hips, Seonghwa stills completely, his load spilling inside you and bringing you over your edge. Your body trembles as you reach your new high, pussy clenching around his cock, milking him whole. 

Seonghwa, lifts his head from your neck and presses a loving kiss to your lips. “Was that okay, love?” 

You chuckle softly, “Of course it was, your amazing hwa.” 

“Hope I made your day a bit better,” he says teasingly. 

“Oh, you definitely did. I love you, hwa.” you smile, lazily drawing circles on his back. 

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART NINETEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, not many for this chapter :p masterlist a/n: wanted so badly for this chapter to be longer but just as i finished a 60-hour work week, i fell down with the flu. boooo.

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Price kept his promise when the time came, the next morning shifting to evening, the sun resting along the horizon. You’d spent the better majority sleeping off the pain, unable to stay awake for long while the parasite ate away at you from the inside and out.

Waking to a booming ‘Land ho!’ was the relief you needed to relax properly, the potential of you receiving urgent attention easing your worries momentarily.

You hadn’t had a proper moment alone, always waking to another man in the room watching over you, appearing just as tired as you. Gaz was often the one who took over, or in his place it was Soap. The Captain was making haste in steering to landfall in order to guarantee your spot in healing. He was wasting no time, keeping all hands on deck to make it happen.

You weren’t expecting Ghost, however, when you opened your eyes. He was lounged in Price’s chair at his desk lazily, eyes blinking sleepily at the floor, his fist on his cheek. He looked oddly comfortable, sat at ease rather than a man who seemed to always have a target on his back.

“Ghost?” you croaked, habitually attempting to sit up. It knocked the air out of your lungs immediately and you settled back down once you noticed Ghost tense up.

He grunted in response, eyes darting up from the floor to you. You’d hardly seen him since Graves’ unsettling show, and you were sure he was only in the room because he thought you’d be asleep long enough for him to switch shifts with somebody else.

“Y’alright?” he asked, gaze flickering down to your side where the bruising was becoming a disgusting black, almost resembling rotting flesh.

“We are almost there?” you asked instead, shifting the blanket over you subconsciously.

He nodded, taking his fist off of his cheek and leaning back in the chair. “Not too long now,” he responded. “Just sit tight.”

You fiddled with the hem of the sheets, picking at a loose thread. The air felt heavy with awkwardness, and it nearly suffocated you. You hated how strange it always felt in Ghost’s presence, like a force between you condemned you away from one another, but you weren’t too sure if it was you or him creating it.

Judging from previous actions, it was definitely him. He wasn’t an easy person to talk to—even after his apology.

“You don’t like me, do you?” you asked without a second thought. Once it came from your mouth, you instantly regretted it. If you were able to move on your free will, you’d have slapped yourself by now.

“What?” he grumbled.

You swallowed, peering up at the ceiling to avoid looking at him. “You do not seem very fond of me. Even after everything.”

You felt his stare on the side of your face. It was burning into you. “Is that so?”

You nodded once, a curt movement that was stiff and uncomfortable. Now that you had bitten off more than you could chew, the only solution was to continue gnawing.

“S’not that,” he answered. He shifted in his seat, tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the table. “You’ve already forgotten our talk? I’m not the type to repeat myself.”

“I have not.”

“Then why are you always stressin’ ‘bout it?” he huffed, almost like a child. At times, he surely acted like one—a rather rude one, but you digress.

“You seem tense with me,” you replied quietly, wondering why the conversation was brought up in the first place. It was never easy speaking of feelings with Ghost, and you were learning that the hard way. You didn’t understand why you felt compelled to begin something with no finish.

“I’m tense because you’re hurt,” he corrected, albeit a bit coldly. “S’not you.”

You gnawed on your lip as you stared into nothingness. Ghost was always an enigma, a puzzle piece you couldn’t quite fit anywhere, and the more you spoke with him, the more difficult it became.

You wanted to understand him, but how could you understand somebody who didn’t want to be understood? Then again, perhaps he thought the same of you.

“Has Graves done this before?” you asked, tone growing soft.

You knew Ghost was at the hands of Graves more than once. The unspoken trauma he held was evident simply in the way he fueled his hatred for the evil captain. If there was anybody who knew Graves for who he truly was, it was Ghost.

“Worse,” he said shortly, as if the matter was so simple to understand. It made your stomach twist up, imagining the horrors that lie along Graves’ past.

“Worse?” you murmured to yourself in disbelief.

Truly, what had Graves done? Surely, he had killed plenty. He held the card of death, dealing it to those unknowing. He played the game until he grew bored, tossing his pawns aside when he wanted a new one.

Were you simply his plaything for the time being? What would happen when he sought out a new one?

You turned your head to look at Ghost. You studied the skull ring that glistened on his finger, as well as the matching mask that locked up his true identity.

Ghost was just as much a pawn as you were—he was simply the last one standing.

“Why do you wear it?” you asked, and when his eyes simmered with confusion, you continued. “The skulls. They are his, yes?”

Ghost glanced down at his ring, wiggling his finger for good measure. “It angers him,” he explained calmly, toying with the ring with his thumb. “He takes pride in his ship. The skull flag on his ship is his staple—he thinks only those deserving are allowed the opportunity to flaunt it.”

“So… you wear it because he does not think you’re deserving, and it angers him?” you finished.

“I consider it a game,” Ghost shrugged. “He took what was mine. I take what’s his.”

You blinked, trying to piece together the puzzle. It made sense in your head, but you felt you were missing something.

“What did he take from you?”

Ghost finally looked at you, pupils blown with that familiar hatred you’d seen all this time. Now, though, you know it’s not for you.

“Everythin’,” he muttered. “I’ll be sure to do the same for him."

Ghost left rather quickly after that. You hated to see him go, but you knew a nerve was struck and he wanted to be alone—it was something he preferred. You could respect that.

Soap was the one who took charge, talking your ear off while you drifted in and out of sleep. He was lifting your spirits as always, trying desperately to get you out of the funk you’d been stuck in.

The conversation with Ghost took enough energy from you that it left you lifeless, resuming to your exhausted state and only offering an occasional hum of acknowledgment to Soap. You felt horrible for seeming so uninterested, but Soap didn’t seem to mind. In fact, if anybody were to understand, it would be him.

“After all this is over, I say we take a li’l vacation, aye?” Soap piped in. You glanced at him blearily, silently nodding in agreement. “Ye ever drink before, dove?”

You shook your head, causing Soap to gawk at you as if you’d just offended his entire family. “Never? Well, we’ll have to change that the second yer all fixed up. Get ye to a nice pub and drink yer sweet heart out. Yeeeah, that sounds real nice ‘bout now.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, shoulders slumping. Soap, ever the sweetest, always kept a peppy attitude for you, even if you could see the exhaustion lines forming on his face. He was so compassionate with you, and you feared you didn’t deserve it. It was your fault for all this mess.

“Yer first drink’s on me, aye? Hell, once yer back on yer feet, I’ll pay for all yer drinks, how’s that sound?”

“Bargainin’ to a sick bird, am I hearin’ that right?”

Both you and Soap looked to the door where the Captain stood, hand on the knob. He was so silent as he came in, presumably not to wake you in the case you were asleep.

“Ach, the girl deserves a drink after all this. M’just tryin’ to make her feel better,” Soap defended with a huff, shooing his hand.

Price snorted in amusement, stepping into the room. He made his way to your bedside where Soap sat, peering down at you and observing.

“How’s my dove doin’ today?” Price asked, his tone affectionate.

You caught a glimpse of Soap’s side eye towards the Captain’s behavior, evidence of confusion washing over his expression. He said nothing, only blinking slowly. You could practically see the gears in his head clogging up the workings in there.

Price looked a bit more hopeful that day, albeit sluggish. His smile was tilted as if his lips were too heavy to lift fully, his eyes were dimmed from the light you’d seen recently. You knew he was pushing past his limit, hardly sleeping and overriding his brain with too many steps in his plans.

“I’m fine,” you assured quietly, though you prayed he couldn’t see through it.

You weren’t fine at all. You felt like a vessel while your soul floated above your body and watched on as you slowly crumbled to ash. You no longer felt completely present, only forced into living from the consistent wakings for meals or check-ups.

The mess on your ribcage had blossomed into a murky pool of black, only spreading rather than weakening. The poisoned veins were like a wildfire, untamable as they slithered their way through your body and organs as if making them its collection.

You were a disastrous mess on the inside. On the outside, though you were gray and sickly with sunken bags beneath your eyes, you tried to present yourself as anything but, mustering up the strength to converse with each and every one of them when you weren’t sleeping.

It was easy for any of them to see it, though. The spark in your eyes had vanished and you resembled more of a corpse than a woman.

Price tilted his head, staring at you for a moment. His hand lifted and he brushed the back of his knuckles across your forehead, resting them there. What met him was warmth. While it would’ve been a comforting feeling, it made him more worried than anything.

“You’re still hot,” he murmured, more to himself. “Have she been like this all day?”

Soap shrugged, frowning. “She’s been asleep for half of it.”

Price glanced at Soap before sighing through his nose. “We’ve got just a couple of more hours. Think you can wait it out a bit more for me, dove?”

You nodded sluggishly. What more was another hour or two? You had already dealt with it for days. The pain wouldn’t subside regardless.

Price attempted another smile, one you couldn’t return. It pained him to see you in a state so depressing, but it wouldn’t be the last that you and his crew would go through hell. He’d seen Ghost in far too similar circumstances before.

He gave your cheek a soft squeeze, frowning to himself when even that didn’t wash away the hollow expression you wore. He felt like he was looking at the shadow of a person that once existed.

“We’ll come and collect you when it’s time,” he told you softly. You only hummed through a sigh, feeling the unfortunate taste of exhaustion once again.

Soap and the Captain shared a look before they exchanged a few quiet words you couldn’t hear. Price seemed reluctant to leave but did nonetheless, slipping the door closed with such gentleness that it didn’t dare disturb you.

Soap remained where he was, studying your every feature as you slipped back into that unforgiving dream state, unable to take his eyes off of you—not when they were so close to getting you to a healer.

He feared if he looked away for even a moment, you might just slip through his fingers.

You’d loved helping people ever since you were a child. You couldn’t remember much, but you knew for certain that you’d been that way all your life—the simple aid of carrying items for the elders in your village, helping the merchants set up for the day, caring for the younger children if they’d hurt themselves or scraped up a knee or two.

It was something you’d always known that soon developed into a bigger dream the older you got. An obsession, some would say, to the idea of being your village’s healer and curing them of their misfortunes. Medicine was a calling, and you listened to its guide, working day and night to learn and discover all new possibilities that you’d never seen before.

Yet, that love for helping others labeled you crazy. The village slowly lost their affection for you, turning their backs as if you’d never been apart of them, disgusted by the fact that a woman of your age was unmarried and childless.

You knew you were meant for more, yet the people who you’d spent your entire life becoming apart of had shunned you over your mere dreams. There was a great, big world out there to discover, but they wished to keep you confined to their little home and grant you misery for the sake of keeping tradition.

Women didn’t have dreams. They didn’t have hopes. How silly of a world was that?

You still wanted to pursue them. You had the whole world ahead of you, and you were angry that there was a possibility of it being snatched away from you, all because of one man. He was ruining the work you'd spent years prioritizing, and you'd be damned if you didn't get what you wanted.

Even as you lay, rotting away in Price’s cot, that desire never went away. It only blossomed, the need nipping at you like an aggravating tick.

It was a wonder how you hadn’t succumbed to the vile venom that Graves’ had slipped under your skin when he bashed his boot into the workings of your ribcage. How you were still alive was unfathomable, something even you didn’t understand after working for years to do so.

Was it simply will that people needed to survive? Was it determination? Or was it just you, the lucky one?

Your mind was muddled with these screaming thoughts as you remained in your unconsciousness. Yet, even asleep, you could feel your body being jolted, like somebody was slipping their arms around you and carrying you to a place unknown. You tried to wake up, but you were trapped in your own world as if needing to seek answers before escaping.

Your ears pricked at the sounds of voices. They sounded far away, muffled as if underwater, and inside your cafe of your mind, you fought to hear, to get a glimpse of your reality that you were missing out on.

“I don’t know, Cap. There are rumors swirlin’ that this woman works wonders, has the hands of the Gods workin’ with her,” a voice exclaimed. Gaz, as clever as ever. You’d know his voice anywhere.

“You speak nonsense,” another voice said. You recognized the gruffness as Price. He sounded closer than Gaz did, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. “We cannot get our hopes up over stories. She’s a medic, just as the others. We will not rely on foolishness to fuel our hope for dove’s recovery.”

You heard Gaz scoff, and you could nearly picture the tightening of his jaw and the slight downward curl of his lips—like a child pouting.

“You do not find it strange, Captain, that our dove hasn’t perished to the willingness of Graves’ curse?” Gaz asked. “Perhaps the rumors are true. Maybe this woman knew we were comin’, and that’s why dove’s held out for so long. Don’t you think a li’l extra hope is what we need?”

“We will know it when we see it,” Price retorted, clearly still unbelieving of Gaz’s claims. “I will not believe in such sorcery until it has been done to dove. What matters is healin’ her.”

“You have seen what Graves has done to others,” Gaz tried once more. “Sorcery is always possible.”

The captain didn’t reply, and you knew that meant he was stumped. You wished dearly to wake and speak with them yourself, to hear of Gaz’s story and to understand where Price is coming from. The desire to meet both their needs felt heavy, and it only grew the longer you went without it.

“Sorcery is what got us in this situation in the first place,” another voice joined in. You were surprised to hear Ghost chime in his own thoughts. It made you wonder if he spoke more when you weren’t around. “If you do not recall that, Gaz.”

You heard another scoff, one could only assume from Gaz. A tempered one, he was.

“Ever the so positive one, aye, Ghost?” Soap. There was no mistaking that heavy accent and chirpy tone.

You heard a snort, then Ghost speak, “Always.”

The world fell silent after that. If you listened close enough, you could hear the shifting of clothes and the crunch of dead leaves. You hadn’t a clue what was happening, though your best bet was that the ship had made landfall, and your path to getting healed was closer than ever.

So why did it feel like something else was beginning to unravel out of control?

[yazmarina]

in my drafts

for the love circuit series

—that message wasn't for you but paul doesn't mind as long as you don't, either.

paul aron (f2) x gn!social media admin reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex, lewd photography, office sex, fingering, creampie, accidental nude sending, mild dirty talk

a/n: sorry i disappeared again!!! pls take this as my apology

It was supposed to be just pictures of him during the break. You expected innocent, somewhat average snapshots of how Paul spent his past two months. You knew he took that trip to Italy, attended his sister's graduation, did some training. It was your job to be at least a little updated on the drivers' whereabouts, in case the head of comms needed you to capitalize on it for content.

So when you received a few photos from Paul through iMessage of all his fall whereabouts, you didn't think much of it. You messaged him a few days earlier asking if he could send a few more unreleased pictures that he hadn't posted on his personal account yet, stating that it was for a post you were putting together for the Hitech Instagram. He was delayed in his reply, as usual, but that's something you expected. He was busy, after all.

Perhaps too busy to notice the outlier in the stack of photos displayed in your message thread. Everything seemed to be normal at first; Italian architecture, gym photos, the cheesecake he made. Typical day in the life photos.

And lastly, a photo of him in dim lighting, taken in front of a mirror, with nothing but shadows covering most of his naked body.

You stare at your phone, dumbfounded. Your first instinct is to wait to see if Paul has anything to say, an apology, maybe, or a half-assed excuse. Anything to indicate that he noticed how he sent you a full-on nude. You prepare yourself for the three dots that show he's typing, the frantic scramble to delete the photo from your exchange, but it never comes. Heat rises up your neck as you realize you're going to have to confront him about it. This was, after all, a professional exchange and you'd hate for HR to come knocking at either one of your doors.

-Paul, please review the photos you sent. Thanks.

You regret it as soon as you send it. Was that perhaps too snippy? Too callous? It was as embarrassing for him as it was for you, maybe even more. But come on, how hard is it to distinguish your nudes from your vacation photos?

The loud throb of your heartbeat reverberates in your ears as you wait, cursing under your breath as a full minute passes and then another. You lock your phone, getting up to pace around your room. You're most likely going to see him tomorrow as he'll be at HQ for sim work and other things and you just so happen to have a lineup of meetings at the very same time. You're going to have to face the fact that you'll have to look each other in the eye after you've seen the outline of his dick.

Wonderful.

You unlock your phone, resigning to just delete the photo from your side. You can claim plausible deniability or whatever legal term it is, if it comes down to it.

Just then, Paul starts typing.

You yelp, setting your phone down on the desk harder than intended.

You realize belatedly that you're holding your breath, fingers pressed into your mouth as if suppressing any more potential noises. He stops then starts again then stops, as if he's unsure of what he's typing out.

-I'M SO SORRY!!!! It was an accident I promise 🥹 Don't report me

-Please I'm so sorry it's totally my fault ______ 😭😭😭

-______ please I'm so sorry

Somehow, despite everything, this coaxes a chuckle out of you. Paul was always open and easy around you, and you know he knows you won't report him for an honest mistake. He's probably just red in the face right now, fighting his inner demons.

You type out a reply to ease his nerves.

-I'll just delete it off my phone so no one can say we were fraternizing inappropriately 🥲

The response from Paul is almost instant.

-YES please I'm sorry again

Your finger hovers over the photos when another message comes in.

-Unless you want to save it for a rainy day that's okay too

-I WAS JOKING its a joke I'm sorry I'm sorry

You groan, throwing your head back against the backrest of your office chair.

He's done this on occasion. Flirt. Compliment you on your hair, your outfit (despite it being the team uniform), your smile, even. You brushed it off as typical driver behavior. Nearly all of them had that kind of nerve about them, a confidence that only comes with driving cars that are closer to rockets than actual cars on the street.

Bringing the phone up to your face, you gingerly scroll back up to the photos Paul sent, opening the accursed photo. Your breath hitches as you take it in more carefully, the light cutting sharply between the shadows of whatever hotel room Paul was in. Your eyes trail down and your fingers pinch at the screen, zooming in.

"No! No, no, absolutely not," you admonish yourself, swiping the photo away and typing back a slightly crazed reply.

-Whoever that photo was meant for might not like it if I do

-

"________!"

You freeze on your way out the door from the conference room, Paul's figure jogging toward you from the other end of the hall. The presence of some execs and the head of comms looms from behind you and you quickly shuffle out of the way to let them pass, all of them greeting Paul as he sidles up to you.

"Hi!" You say a little too brightly, turning to Paul, arms coming up mechanically then stopping, your brain reminding you that a hug might be too awkward but standing around without greeting him in some way would be just as weird. A flurry of butterflies erupt in your stomach as Paul stops in front of you, his cologne coming off strong as always. Just the way you liked it.

"How's the meeting?" Paul asks, gesturing to the room. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, a nervous habit he has that you've observed over the time you've worked with him. He has his hands shoved deep in his jeans, too.

You shrug, forcing out a laugh. "Same old, just going over social media plans and PR."

Paul nods, a little too eagerly perhaps. His eyes shift to the retreating personnel, all of them turning a corner, leaving you and Paul alone in the vicinity.

"Were you waiting for me?" You ask before he can say anything else.

Paul swallows. "Yeah. Look–"

"Paul," you cut him off, raising a hand between the two of you. "It's okay. It's no big deal. Happens to the best of us."

He raises an eyebrow at that. "Have you ever sent a nude to the wrong person before?"

Your cheeks flare up in a violent blush.

"Well, no. And keep your voice down," you berate lightly. Paul looks around and shrugs as if to say, 'Nobody's here'.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "But what I meant was, like, messages are sent to the wrong people all the time, I'm sure you didn't mean any harm, and besides, no one else knows. I promise I haven't told anyo–"

"Okay." It was Paul's turn to cut you off. "Okay, I believe you."

He smiles at you good-naturedly, opening his arms and coaxing you into a hug. It takes you a second, but eventually, you let yourself laugh in relief, wrapping your arms around his strong frame.

"I missed you over the break," Paul admits, pulling away and holding you at arm's length. You blush again, masking it with a chuckle.

"Well, the break isn't over yet. We still have three weeks to go," you remind, your own hands coming up to settle on Paul's outstretched arms, making it look as if you're holding him in place. To anyone who didn't know, you two would look like a couple deep in discussion.

"At least you get to see me more," Paul offers with an easy smile. nudging you lightly.

You scoff. "I think I've seen enough of you, thank you very much."

A heavy silence settles over the two of you as you realize what you just said. Paul lets his arms drop from where they held you, an apology ready at your lips but Paul gets to it first. He runs a hand through his unkempt hair, blonde strands tugged between his fingers.

"You haven't deleted it, have you?"

No, you haven't.

"I was going to, but I got distracted with other things." Not entirely a lie. You really meant to do so, but thoughts you'd rather not share took hold and there were matters you needed to attend to. Matters that could only be solved with your fingers and a vibrator.

You should feel guilty, getting off to a picture of a coworker that wasn't even meant to be sent to you in the first place. Maybe you're terrible, maybe you should be fired, sued by the Aron family.

Memories of you gasping out Paul's name in the quiet of your room come flooding back and you pray that Paul doesn't notice the irregularity in your breathing.

"I'll delete it now, in front of you, so you can see that I did," you offer, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Paul shakes his head, catching you by the wrist, his hand large and warm against your own skin.

"I mean if I was going to send it to anyone, it would have been you," Paul says lowly, as if afraid someone would hear him, despite the entire expanse of the hallway void of any people other than yourselves.

"Consensually, of course," Paul adds in a hurry, eyes widening. "If you wanted to receive them. It. Receive it."

Your eyebrows shoot up, your mouth curling into a smirk. "You have more you want to send?"

Paul's lower lip slips between his teeth and it seems the two of you are finally on the same page. You try to suppress the smile threatening to break out, clearing your throat and avoiding his eyes.

"Until when are you staying here?" You ask casually. You didn't mean 'here' as HQ. Here as in, in town, close to you.

"Next week," Paul replies, stepping closer. "I won't see you until Qatar after that."

"Shame," you mutter, tilting your head as you meet his gaze once more.

"Maybe," Paul begins, slipping his hand into yours and twining your fingers together. "I can add one more thing to my break to-do list."

"Now?" You ask incredulously. Paul nods immediately.

"You know that one storage closet inside the sim room?" He asks, winking at you.

"What? Paul!" You whisper-shout, but he's already leading you down the hallway. The two of you make a sharp turn to the right where big blocky letters spell out 'SIMULATOR' on the large double doors of the sim room.

You squint, immediately plunged into darkness as the only source of light inside is the curved screen, dimmed as well as it sits on standby.

"What if your engineer walks in? Your teammate? Doesn't he have a session soon?" You continue to protest, even when Paul gently pushes you toward the storage room door at the very corner. He flings the door open and you see that it's filled mostly with spare sim components and monitors.

"Babe, that's why they call it a quickie," Paul reasons, flipping the light switch on inside. The lightbulb offers little respite in the darkness and shadows still play along the lines of Paul's face. He shuts the door behind him.

"It doesn't lock? Paul, I swear–"

You gasp but barely any sound comes out as Paul presses his lips to yours, hands settling on your hips. He maneuvers you toward a shelf, pushing you against it and pressing himself fully on you.

You can feel how hard he is through his jeans.

"Did you like it?" Paul asks as he breaks away for a second. He kisses your jaw, tracing its outline as you sigh, your head falling back. He takes his opportunity to kiss along the column of your neck, his tongue smoothing over your skin.

"Did you get off to it?" Paul asks again and your breath catches in your throat. It's as if he knew all the dirty, deplorable things you did over that one picture.

"I know you did," Paul concludes with a breathy laugh, reclaiming your lips and driving a knee between your legs. You groan in response, grinding against his thigh while your fingers tug at his belt.

Paul pulls away and takes over for you, undoing his jeans and slipping them down to his knees. You silently thank whatever god is listening for the fact that you so conveniently decided to wear those easy cotton office pants, slipping them off in one quick swoop along with your underwear.

"I'm tempted to get on my knees right now so I can eat you out," Paul teases, hiking your shirt up and exposing your chest.

A snide remark forms in your brain but it's cut off when you feel the cold press of fingers on your clit. You clamp a hand down on your mouth as Paul gently flicks at it, feeling yourself getting wetter by the second.

"Maybe later after work," Paul says, rubbing harder. Your elbow spasms at the sensation, hitting the shelf behind you.

"Ow, fuck," you curse, meeting Paul's eyes. You two burst into muffled laughter just as Paul slips a finger in.

"What happened to a quickie?" You demand, hips moving along with Paul's hand. He adds a second finger and you whine, fingers digging into Paul's shoulders.

"I have manners," Paul informs with an easy smile, face impossibly close to yours. You can see the shift in his bright blue eyes. "I need you wet and ready for me, no?"

You bite down on your lip, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Paul curls his fingers inside you. A shiver runs through you and you feel yourself clenching down and around his digits.

Paul retracts his hand, much to your dismay, but you don't get to complain before Paul kisses you again, rough and heated. His tongue dances against yours and you grip at his Hitech team kit for purchase.

"Bend over," Paul commands and you're more than happy to oblige, turning around to do just that.

You brace yourself against the shelf behind you, gripping at the wood as you lower the front of your body. Paul grabs your hips and your back arches almost automatically. You can feel him pressing up against you and you sneak a peek behind you to see Paul with his phone in hand.

"So I can 'accidentally' send you another one," Paul jests before slowly sinking in. You whine, head dropping down between your shoulders. The thought of him documenting your little tryst sends a shiver up your spine which only intensifies as Paul grabs one side of your hips. He sets up a hard, steady pace that has the shelf in front of you creaking.

"Paul," you gasp out, your whole body shuddering at the force of how hard he's fucking you.

Both of his hands grip at your sides now so you can assume his phone has been put away. You try to stay upright which proves challenging considering Paul is ramming into you ferociously.

Contradictory to it all, you feel the soft touch of fingers through your scalp, smoothing over your hair. In a moment's turn, your head is yanked back as Paul tugs at your hair, arching your back even more.

A garbled sound escapes you, part moan, part sob as the sting in your scalp shoots straight down to your core, pushing you ever so closer to your release.

"The social media person," Paul begins through gritted teeth. "Always so pretty behind the camera. Making me do trend after trend. I'd do anything for you, baby."

You mewl in response, reaching back to grip at Paul's wrist, pushing back against him, urging him to go faster. Paul gets the memo.

"Funny how that photo was taken only because I was about to jack off to the thought of you," Paul continues. "You sent me a message and I was missing that pretty face of yours so I went through your Instagram. Looks like you had fun in Mallorca, tiny swimsuit and all."

"Sorry, baby," Paul says close to your ear. "Couldn't help it."

"Inside," you plead. "P-Please, I'm close. N-Need you to cum inside me."

Paul merely grunts, letting go of your hair so he can pull you flush against him. His thrusts grow erratic, barely pulling out of you each time. He pulls you back to him, your back against his front as he bites down on your shoulder.

"Yes, yes, right there." Your voice comes out raspy, walls squeezing around Paul's throbbing cock. He reaches over and resumes his movements from a while ago on your clit and you yelp, hips spasming pathetically.

You cum with Paul deep inside you, his groans filling your ear as he follows soon after. He stills and pulls you even closer to him, arms encircling your torso. He kisses the spot where he had bitten you, pressing his lips almost reverently to the indented skin.

You're both breathing hard and you're perfectly content to stand around while the two of you gather your bearings. But Paul momentarily disentangles himself from you and reaches down. You see him pull his phone out from his jeans from where they've presumably fallen down to his ankles.

"Smile," Paul prompts, his lips planting a soft kiss behind your ear as he angles the camera toward the two of you.

He snaps a blurry photo, just in time to capture your hand coming up to rest against his cheek as he grins into your skin. Emboldened by the somewhat artsy, flirtatious nature of the photo, you turn around and land a proper kiss on Paul's lips, savoring each second his tongue passes over your mouth.

"Send all the photos you want," you whisper, smiling up at him.

"Or we could just take them together," Paul offers, kissing the tip of your nose.

[kathlare]

manchild

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie and Lando find themselves tiptoeing between nerves and humor as they prepare for a long-overdue dinner with her parents.

Wordcount: 6.3 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

June 7th, 2024 - Barcelona, Spain

liked by ciscanorris, jackantonoff, and others

ameliedayman: i wrote manchild on a random tuesday with amy and jack not too long after finishing short n’ sweet and it ended up being the best random tuesday of my life not only was it so fun to write, but this song became to me something I can look back on that will score the mental montage to the very confusing and fun young adult years of life. it sounds like the song embodiment of a loving eye roll and it feels like a never ending road trip in the summer ! hence why i wanted to give it to you now- so you can stick your head out the car window and scream it all summer long!

thank you always and forever for listening and thank you men for testing me!! 🐷🤍

Manchild is out now!!! Video out tomorrow at 10am est

View all 99,781 comments

landonorris: i feel both attacked and in love 🧍‍♂️ → ameliedayman: @landonorris duality of man(baby)

stelladayman: amen. hey, men. iconic behavior → ameliedayman: @stellamaxwell your man is shaking rn and i LOVE that for you

jackantonoff: you ate. nothing left. → ameliedayman: @jackantonoff i’m still full tbh

tiktokdramaqueen: SHE SAID “I CHOOSE TO BLAME YOUR MOM” AND I FELT THAT → dollincrisis: @tiktokdramaqueen feminist theory begins and ends there

gridgirlfan69: this is the most fun breakup song i’ve ever twerked to → softf1era: @gridgirlfan69 her mind is so unserious and powerful at the same time

savnorris: this is revenge heels in music form. obsessed. → ameliedayman: @savnorris can’t wait to scream it at karaoke next girls night

oliviarodrigo: THIS IS SOOOOOOO GOOD WTF → ameliedayman: @oliviarodrigo ur impact was felt. emotionally and legally 💋

lanxamelie: she wrote a feminist manifesto in glitter and rage and i’m living for it

maxfewtrell: i’m not a man-child, i’m just british → ameliedayman: @maxfewtrell that’s worse

trackspice: you mean to tell me she dropped THIS while dating a literal f1 driver 😭😭😭 → marryhimanyways: @trackspice yeah he’s lucky she’s in her “i’m healed” arc

misogynymuncher: how are y’all not tired of her pretending to be relatable with a millionaire bf 💀

carlossainz55: i laughed then cried → ameliedayman: @carlossainz55 that’s the goal, thanks for playing

l0v3youlanmelie: if you’re hating this song you’re the reason she wrote it 😭 → paddockprincess: @l0v3youlanmelie if the shoe fits babes

f1wagupdates: it’s the “i like my men all incompetent” line for me 😭😭😭

georgerussell63: as a reformed manchild, this hit a little too close → ameliedayman: @georgerussell63 george you still can’t use a washing machine

elysiadayman: when u played me the demo i knew some boy out there just got spiritually punched in the throat → ameliedayman: @elysiadayman and i’d do it again 💋

alex_albon: felt personally attacked but also inspired → ameliedayman: @alex_albon take it as a sign and apologize to lily

lilymhe: i wanna stitch this into a pillow → ameliedayman: @lilymhe i’ll bring the thread, you bring the wine

-------------

The soft warmth of morning light spilled in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, dusting the white duvet in gold. The city outside was just beginning to stir, but inside their Barcelona suite, the world was quiet—until Amelie felt it.

A featherlight kiss pressed just below her ear. Then one to her jaw. Another to her cheek. One at the tip of her nose. A slow trail of them down her neck.

She scrunched her nose, eyes still closed, but her mouth twitched with a smile.

—Lando...— she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

—Mornin’, angel,— came his low, groggy reply, warm breath tickling her skin.

She turned in his arms, blinking her eyes open to find him already watching her. His hair was a mess, curling wildly around his forehead, and his face was flushed with that sleepy, cozy look she adored. But it was the way he was looking at her—like she’d hung the stars above them—that made her cheeks flush.

—Hi,— she whispered, brushing her fingers along his jaw.

—Hi,— he echoed, voice rough, but laced with a smile.

He kissed the corner of her mouth gently.

—Did I wake you?—

—No, just... attacked me with love, I guess,— she teased, nose scrunching again as she yawned.

Lando grinned, nudging his nose against hers. —Exactly how every day should start. Especially today.—

Amelie smiled, sleepy but already glowing. —Mm, today...—

He shifted onto his elbow, still watching her. —You nervous, baby?—

She didn’t speak, just lifted her hand and wiggled it, fingers pinched close together.

Lando raised his brows, teasing. —A little? That’s all?—

She nodded solemnly, lips fighting a grin. —A little.—

—A little,— he repeated with a low chuckle, shaking his head like he didn’t believe her one bit. Then, without warning, he leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss.

Soft, then deeper.

Her hand found the back of his neck, fingers weaving into his curls as he pressed closer, his body half on top of hers. It was the kind of kiss that curled her toes, slow and heady, tasting of sleep and something she could only describe as him.

She was melting into him when her phone alarm blared from the nightstand.

Amelie groaned, giggling as she pulled back. —Fucking timing.—

Lando rested his forehead against hers, pouting. —You need to change that sound. That thing’s aggressive.—

—It’s supposed to wake me up, dumbass.—

—Yeah, well, my way’s nicer.—

She rolled onto her back, laughing, and then sat up. —I have soundcheck in like two hours. I should get ready.—

Amelie glanced at him as she stood and stretched, her oversized t-shirt slipping down her thigh. —Are you sure you want to come? You could sleep in, or... do literally anything else.—

Lando blinked at her like she was insane. —Ames, of course I’m coming. What kind of shit boyfriend misses his girl’s first time headlining a festival?—

She grinned, heart clenching a little. —The sexy kind?—

He gave her a look. —Nice try.—

She walked toward the bathroom, hips swaying without thinking.

Lando’s eyes trailed her every step, half under the covers still, entirely captivated.

—Where are you going?— he asked, all dramatically betrayed.

She threw a look over her shoulder. —To shower, clingy. I have to look cute tonight.—

He was already getting out of bed before she could close the door. —We should shower together. You know... for the environment. Save water and stuff.—

She laughed, eyes squinting. —Sure. For the water.—

Lando caught her waist from behind as she reached for a towel, lips landing back on her neck.

—You’re such a menace,— she whispered, leaning back against him instinctively.

—I just love you. Is that a crime?— he said dramatically, dragging his mouth slowly to her shoulder.

—We can shower together,— she murmured, tilting her head to the side to give him better access. —But no sex, Lan. I need my throat for tonight. If I start moaning, it’s over.—

He groaned softly, pressing a kiss behind her ear. —That’s such a cockblock, but fine. I can be... respectful.—

—Doubt it.—

—Rude.—

She turned to face him with a smirk and tugged the hem of her shirt off. —But if you behave, maybe you get a reward after the show.—

Lando’s eyes went wide and then narrowed in dramatic excitement. —Oh I’m gonna be so good.—

They both laughed as they stepped into the massive marble shower together, warm water cascading around them.

It wasn’t sexual, not really—just soft touches, shared space, stolen kisses under steam.

Lando washed her hair gently, fingers massaging her scalp as she melted beneath his hands.

Amelie returned the favor, lathering shampoo into his curls while he closed his eyes and hummed. They whispered stupid jokes. He tickled her sides until she squealed and smacked his chest.

She pressed her nose to his collarbone and said, —You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that?—

And Lando didn’t say anything at first—just kissed the top of her head and held her tighter.

Because fuck, she was everything.

And tonight, she was going to step onto a stage in front of thousands.

And he’d be there, smiling so big he’d probably hurt his face, watching the love of his life shine like the star she was.

-------------

liked by ameliebangs, strawberrygrid, and others

lanmelieupdates: Lando and Amelie leaving her soundcheck in Barcelona today ahead of her Primavera Sound headlining set tonight

View all 65,039 comments

carbonwagz: lando in his emotional support boyfriend era is everything to me 😭😭

manchildmvdrop: if he’s not backstage scream-singing manchild word for word… we rioting → wagscentral: @manchildmvdrop he’s 100% doing the bridge with hand motions and all

strawberrygrid: they left soundcheck like they were in a romcom and the city was their runway → tracktokgf: @strawberrygrid camera pans, soft lighting, and a Lana Del Rey song in the bg

f1screamz: the fact that she’s headlining and he’s just her biggest fan in the background i’m sobbing → quadrantchaos: @f1screamz lanmelie invented dual careers. she sings, he simps. balance.

softlaunchwho: the way she’s carrying the whole festival on her back

sneakyslowmo: why does every photo of them walking away look like a music video ending → ameliebangs: @sneakyslowmo bc they ARE the music video. track 12. credits rolling.

norrisnation: he smiled the entire walk back like he just got proposed to → girlwiththegridtattoo: @norrisnation in his defense, if Amelie smiled at me once i’d change my entire personality too 😭

wheresmylanmelie: honestly lando being the only man allowed in her era of hotness is the biggest plot twist of 2025

lanmeliefanclub: she’s about to hit the stage and he’s about to hit the floor from simping too hard 😭

primaprincess: can’t believe we live in a world where LANMELIE is REAL and HEADLINING → gridgirlvibes: @primaprincess like we manifested too hard and god got scared

ferrarifiles: lando been smiling like a fool all day…boy is GONE

tapasmami: bro he’s her groupie and he LOVES it → yeschef: @tapasmami he’s 3 seconds away from printing "Amelie’s #1 fan" shirts for everyone backstage

groupiegrid: someone said “i’d never let a man follow me around like that” girl he’s Lando Norris and she’s Amelie Dayman. stay humble. → chaoticcrew44: @groupiegrid nah fr they’re both each other’s biggest fans and it’s actually so cute

lanloverrrr: she looked back to check if he was still behind her 3 TIMES. she’s gone too. → sunsetmclaren: @lanloverrrr she’s literally walking like she’s floating and he’s the wind 😭

gridwagcentral: man left the paddock to carry her water bottle and vibes. that’s dedication. → f1fangurlie: @gridwagcentral that’s husband behavior not even boyfriend

-------------

The faint hum of festival prep buzzed through the walls of Amelie’s trailer. After soundcheck, the atmosphere was calm, a small bubble of calm in the chaos of a major music festival. She sat on a plush chair, draped in a soft robe, while Jared—the stylist, who had been with her for years—worked on the last tweaks to her outfit. Evanie, the hair stylist, was busy wrapping her curls tighter, a fresh departure from the usual sleek straight hair Amelie sported for years. Lola, her makeup artist, hovered nearby blending shadows with delicate precision.

Amelie closed her eyes for a second, enjoying the gentle buzz of activity around her, the quiet camaraderie of her team.

The trailer door opened, and Meredith slipped inside, carrying a large bag filled with takeout containers. Behind her, Lando stepped in with that familiar, easy grin that made Amelie’s chest flutter. His eyes locked on hers instantly.

Lola, noticing the look on Lando’s face, whispered with a smirk, —Lando, don’t you dare.—

Lando’s grin only deepened as he stepped closer, unbothered by the warning. —Don’t ruin my work, Lando.— Lola’s voice was half amused, half pleading, as she tightened her grip on the makeup brush.

But before she could say more, Lando bent down smoothly and pressed a quick, gentle kiss to Amelie’s lips. It was soft, innocent—just a sweet hello. Amelie pulled back laughing, shaking her head at him.

—You’re impossible,— she teased, eyes sparkling.

Lola rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a small smile. —Okay, now let me fix what you just messed up. Stand still, Ames.—

Amelie settled back as Lola expertly brushed and blended, muttering, —This is why I can’t have nice things.—

Lando moved to help Meredith unpack the takeout, spreading the food across the small table in the corner. Jared hovered to arrange some extra accessories nearby, and Evanie gave Amelie’s curls one last pinch before stepping back.

The team settled around the table, plates in hand, the buzz of chatter rising as everyone dug in. Lando and Amelie had ordered different dishes, but true to form, they shared both, stealing bites from each other’s plates.

Amelie’s laptop rested on the table, the opening credits of Friends playing softly as the group relaxed between bites.

The trailer was warm with conversation, laughter blending with the familiar “I’ll be there for you…” from the Friends theme as Amelie giggled with her mouth full of noodles, one leg curled beneath her on the couch. Lando sat beside her, their food containers balanced between them, his arm stretched lazily behind her shoulders.

—This one’s yours,— she said, nudging a dumpling toward him with her chopsticks.

—That one has chili oil all over it, that’s sabotage,— he accused, raising a brow, but taking it anyway. —You trying to ruin my stomach before your set so I have to watch it from a toilet? Rude.—

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice just enough so only he could hear. —You could watch it from the stage with me. That way, if I choke on a high note, at least you’ll be there to witness my downfall in 4K.—

Lando snorted. —You? Downfall? You could hum into the mic and they’d still scream like you cured disease.—

Before she could respond with something sarcastic, the trailer door opened again.

A gust of warm outside air swept in, followed by the unmistakable voice of her mother.

—Mi amor!—

Amelie’s eyes snapped up mid-bite just as her mom rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a tight, motherly hug. The chopsticks nearly flew from her hand.

—Mamá!— she choked, laughing with her mouth still partially full. —You scared me!—

—Look at you,— her mom cooed, pulling back just enough to cup her face. —You look stunning even half-done.—

Amelie flushed, caught between laughter and surprise as her mother fussed over her. Lola stepped aside with a knowing smile, giving them space, while Evanie discreetly adjusted a curl that had been squished by the sudden hug.

—Mamá, you weren’t supposed to be here until later,— Amelie said, voice fond as she stood up, robe swishing around her legs.

Her dad followed in behind, already clapping Lando on the back in a casual, friendly man-hug. —Lando! You surviving all this chaos?—

Lando stood quickly, straightening up with the instinct of someone greeting royalty. —Barely, Mr. Dayman, but I’m trying my best.—

—No need for the Mr., mijo. You’ve earned first-name basis by now.—

—Then you have to stop calling him mijo or he’s going to combust,— Amelie muttered to her mom, who laughed and waved her off.

Her dad grinned, then gestured to the takeout. —You feeding the whole army in here?—

—Technically Meredith is,— Amelie said, tossing her assistant a grateful smile. —But yes. Festival fuel.—

Her mom eyed the food, the half-done hair, and the robe. —And you’re still not dressed? Ay, Amelie...—

—We had a small... Lando delay,— Lola chimed in without looking up, carefully dabbing under Amelie’s eye with a small brush.

Lando lifted both hands in mock innocence. —Just a kiss! Barely even a real one!—

—You smudged her highlighter, dude,— Jared said from across the room, one brow raised. —You touched the canvas.—

—You’ll live,— Lando muttered dramatically, flopping back down onto the couch beside Amelie’s laptop. —I’m basically her emotional support animal at this point.—

—You’re more like a clingy housecat,— Amelie added, grabbing her drink with a grin and sipping through the straw.

—Still cute though,— he shot back, nudging her knee gently.

Her mom settled in beside Meredith, already opening a takeout box like she owned the place, while her dad leaned against the back wall, surveying the room like a general at peace. It felt... normal. Cozy, even.

Too normal.

That’s when Lando froze.

Amelie hadn’t told them.

He blinked slowly, chopsticks still in hand, as his brain quietly exploded. She hadn’t told them. About the apartment. About Monaco. About the cohabitation situation.

He looked sideways at her.

She was busy trying to fish a sesame noodle off her top.

He leaned in, lips barely moving. —Ames.—

—Hm?— she mumbled around her straw.

—You haven’t told them.—

Her eyes flicked up to him.

He gave her a pointed look. A do-you-want-me-to-die kind of look. A your-dad-just-called-me-mijo kind of look.

She blinked. Paused. Then shrugged.

—It hasn’t come up.—

—It’s literally now coming up. There’s a dumpling tray between us and your mother.—

—Shhh,— she hushed, smiling at her dad like nothing was happening. —Papá, can you pass me the soy sauce?—

Lando leaned back, lips parted in disbelief.

—You’re actually insane,— he whispered, handing her the soy sauce instead.

Amelie gave him a sweet smile. —I promise I’ll tell them. Just... not right now. I’m literally in a robe and I have one eyelash on.—

—You had weeks to tell them. You had the entire plane ride to tell them. You had after soundcheck to tell them. You had noodle time to tell them.—

She elbowed him lightly. —I said after the show. Dinner. Wine. Controlled setting. No brushes near my face.—

Lando looked like he wanted to combust. Instead, he stabbed a dumpling and muttered, —They’re gonna kill me. I’m gonna get murdered over spring rolls.—

Across the room, her dad was asking Meredith about the setlist, clearly unaware that his daughter had been living in sin (in his eyes, at least) with a Formula 1 driver in Monaco for weeks.

Lando was now very aware of every single decision he had ever made.

—What if your dad asks where you’re going after the festival?— he hissed, barely chewing.

—Then I say Monaco. No lies.—

—And if he asks why you’re going to Monaco?—

Amelie raised a brow. —Because I live there. With my boyfriend. Who he just hugged.—

Lando stared at her.

She calmly sipped from her drink, unbothered.

Jared caught their silent exchange and leaned over from his seat. —What’s happening? Why does Lando look like he just got a cease and desist from the Pope?—

Amelie didn’t even flinch. —He just remembered I haven’t told my parents I moved in with him.—

Evanie choked on his spring roll. Lola froze mid-swipe of blush.

—You haven’t what?— Jared nearly shrieked.

—Shut up!— Amelie whisper-yelled, waving them off. —You’re going to blow it.—

Lola crossed her arms. —Okay, but, respectfully, how do you forget to mention something like that to your parents? What do they think happens when you disappear for two weeks between shows? That you’re squatting in an Airbnb like a cryptid?—

—No, they just think I'm “visiting Lando,”— she replied, making air quotes. —Technically not a lie.—

Lando buried his face in his hands. —I’m not gonna survive this dinner.—

Amelie patted his knee affectionately. —You’ll be fine. I’ll soften the blow. Maybe wear something that makes you look extra innocent.—

—You’re weaponizing my wardrobe now?—

She grinned, biting into a spring roll. —Yes. This is war. But cute war.—

Her mom turned to them suddenly. —What are you two whispering about over there? You look like you’re plotting something.—

—Just trying to figure out if we have time to squeeze in a nap before the show,— Amelie said effortlessly, smiling wide. —I’m fading.—

Her dad nodded seriously. —Rest up. You’ve got a long night ahead. And after, we’ll all have dinner, sí? You can tell us about what comes next.—

Lando nearly choked.

Amelie just nodded. —Dinner sounds perfect.—

Her mom smiled warmly, completely oblivious. —We’ll bring wine. The nice kind.—

Lando looked at Amelie like she’d signed him up for trial by fire.

She only nudged him with her foot under the table, face completely serene.

Later that night, he would stand on the side of the stage with Meredith, watching Amelie command thousands like it was nothing, her curls bouncing under the lights, her voice soaring like it ruled the sky.

But for now?

He was just a boyfriend, trapped in a trailer, sitting two feet from his maybe-future-in-laws, and very, very aware that he was living in a country with no extradition treaty for what he was about to confess at dinner.

God help him.

-------------

georgerussell63 replied to your story

georgerussell63: you’re down SO BAD landonorris: and proud georgerussell63: you gonna cry or scream first landonorris: already did both backstage

alex_albon replied to your story

alex_albon: bro she’s glowing alex_albon: like actually glowing. are you okay landonorris: no. i almost passed out alex_albon: simp level 10000 landonorris: correct

charles_leclerc replied to your story

charles_leclerc: i would simply not know peace if i were you landonorris: i haven’t known peace since the robe moment in 2023 charles_leclerc: makes sense

maxfewtrell replied to your story

maxfewtrell: she’s the headliner and you’re the groupie landonorris: and? maxfewtrell: just making sure you know your place landonorris: i bring her water and emotional support backstage. i’m doing my job.

oscarpiastri replied to your story

oscarpiastri: why do i feel like you’re crying while posting this landonorris: cause i WAS oscarpiastri: do u want a hug or to be bullied landonorris: both

danielricciardo replied to your story

danielricciardo: i saw her outfit on tiktok danielricciardo: be honest. how close were u to proposing landonorris: the ring was in my pocket. i swear to god. danielricciardo: 😭😭😭

carlossainz55 replied to your story

carlossainz55: hermano… you in love love huh landonorris: bro i can’t even breathe properly when she sings carlossainz55: 😭 get a grip landonorris: i did. on her waist backstage.

lilymhe replied to your story

lilymhe: she looks like an actual goddess landonorris: i know lilymhe: you’re not normal for this btw landonorris: never claimed to be

tchalamet replied to your story

tchalamet: bro i’d fall in love w her too looking like THAT landonorris: respectfully, back off tchalamet: LMAOOO chill i’m team lanmelie

pierregasly replied to your story

pierregasly: she is the moment. landonorris: she’s MY moment. pierregasly: ok shakespeare relax

joshrichards replied to your story

joshrichards: bro u might as well post “wife” and go landonorris: don’t tempt me joshrichards: u whipped landonorris: 100%

ameliedayman reposted your story

ameliedayman: who is that 🤭 landonorris: mine.

-------------

The hotel suite in Barcelona was golden with late evening light, warm and glowy through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The hum of post-show adrenaline was still in Amelie’s skin as she stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a fluffy towel and smelling like eucalyptus and hotel luxury.

From the bedroom came a distinct groan.

—You okay?— she called, already knowing the answer.

—No.—

She padded in barefoot, towel tucked around her chest. Lando was lying face-down on the bed like he’d been dramatically thrown there by fate itself. Shirtless. Socks mismatched. Hair a mess.

—Babe,— she said, amused. —We’re going to dinner, not the gallows.—

He rolled over with a tragic expression. —It’s the same thing if your dad murders me with a steak knife.—

—He’s not going to murder you.—

—You don’t know that.—

She fought back a laugh, climbing onto the bed beside him. —He literally hugged you this afternoon.—

—Yeah, because he thinks we live in separate zip codes and I’m a nice, platonic boy who brings you soup when you’re sick. Not a guy who’s been sleeping in your bed and stealing your oat milk.—

She leaned on her elbow, hair still damp, water beading on her collarbone. —Is that what you think makes him mad? The oat milk theft?—

—It’s the betrayal of trust, Amelie,— he said dramatically. —I lied to the man’s face.—

—You just didn’t clarify. There’s a difference.—

—No there’s not. My mother raised me better than this.—

—You also once lied to your mom about doing your own laundry for three years. So.—

Lando sat up, pointing a finger. —That’s different. That was survival.—

She reached over and gently fixed his chaotic curls with her fingers, combing them back into place.

—Lan. It’s dinner. With my parents. At a restaurant they picked. With a wine list. Not a courtroom.—

He flopped again. —You don’t get it. Your dad’s terrifying.—

—No he is not. He flosses after lunch and listens to Coldplay. You’ll live.—

—He also played rugby and has a scary voice when he gets serious. And he offered me a beer earlier like he was trying to size me up.—

Amelie burst out laughing. —You’re such a man-child.—

—Thank you, I think.—

She kissed his forehead. —Get dressed. You’re wearing the green shirt I packed for you.—

He looked at her, eyes wide. —The one with the little embroidery on the collar?—

—Yes,— she said, smugly. —The one that makes you look like someone’s golden retriever boyfriend who reads books in parks and respects women.—

—You’re dressing me like a decoy!— he accused, eyes narrowing.

—Exactly,— she grinned. —You’re going in there looking like a saint so that when I drop the Monaco bomb, they can’t kill you. They’ll be too busy thinking about how nice your collar is.—

Lando groaned and let his head fall back onto the pillows. —I’m gonna throw up. I’m actually gonna throw up. What if your mom cries? Or worse, what if she smiles sadly? That’s so much worse.—

—You’re spiraling,— Amelie said calmly, smoothing his hair with one hand and reaching for the TV remote with the other. —Here. I’m putting on Modern Family while you change so you can remind yourself what white suburban peace feels like.—

Lando mumbled something that sounded like “bury me” and forced himself upright, trudging toward the suitcase like a kid being sent to military school.

Amelie flopped back onto the bed with a content sigh, watching him struggle to find the shirt she’d neatly folded for him.

—Middle pouch,— she offered lazily.

—Why is your packing system better than mine?—

—Because I have a brain and don’t throw socks in with chargers and snacks.—

—Unnecessary personal attack but okay.—

He pulled the shirt out with exaggerated care, holding it up like it was a holy relic.

—If this shirt doesn’t save my life tonight, I want it buried with me.—

Amelie peeked up from the bed. —You’re being very dramatic for someone who called me “bratty” for not getting emotional during a Pixar short.—

—That dog had no one,— Lando said, deadly serious, slipping the shirt over his head.

Amelie’s laugh was instant, warm, and so fond it softened every edge of her. She watched him button the shirt wrong once, then fix it without help, still muttering about oat milk and steak knives.

When he finished, he turned to her with a nervous smile. —Do I look lovable?—

She nodded slowly, sitting up and reaching for him. —You look like a man I would absolutely lie to my parents about cohabitating with.—

He groaned again and buried his face in her neck. —Why are you like this?—

—Because you love me like this,— she whispered into his ear, arms wrapping around him as his shoulders finally dropped.

They stood like that for a beat, still damp hair and warm skin, a soft moment wrapped in terrycloth and nerves.

Then, her phone buzzed.

Meredith: Your mom says we’re leaving in 10. Wear flats. Your dad’s wearing actual leather shoes for once.

Amelie pulled back with a sigh. —Come on, man-child. Show time.—

Lando took a deep breath. —If I survive this dinner, I’m proposing with a juice box ring.—

—If you survive this dinner, I’ll let you pick the playlist on the way to Monaco.—

He beamed. —Even if I add Coldplay just to charm your dad?—

—Especially if you do that.—

And with that, she tugged him toward the door, hand in hand, leaving behind the fluffy hotel peace and stepping into the soft Barcelona night.

-------------

liked by sunshineglow, wagspy, and others

ameliesvibes: Amelie stepping out for dinner in Barcelona tonight looking absolutely glowing in that effortless chic vibe 🔥✨ Rumor has it she was with Lando and her parents, but all eyes were on her solo moments captured — queen energy only 👑🍽️

View all 55,022 comments

sunnysideup: ames looking like she just stepped out of a movie 🎬🔥 → redcarpetdreams: @sunnysideup icon energy only

gpfanatic99: not gonna lie, if i was lando i’d be starin’ at her all dinner too 👀❤️ → speedjunkie: @gpfanatic99 priorities fr

momof3: love seeing her shine on her own too, but yes, lanmelie is my fave 🥰

barcelonabeat: can someone confirm if lando was really there or nah? 👀 → amesvibes: @barcelonabeat ppl say yes but we got only ames pics… mysteryyyy

hatersgonnahate: overhyped couple, pls 🙄

sunshineglow: ames looks like she owns the whole city, lowkey queen moves 👑 → lanmelie4ever: @sunshineglow facts, she’s the vibe!!!

sunnyvibes: ames looking like she owns the whole city tonight 🔥 → lanmelliegang: @sunnyvibes literally the glow up is unreal

racequeen23: bet lando was lowkey sweating thinking about dinner with the parents 😂 → gpdrama: @racequeen23 he’s probably rehearsing compliments in the mirror rn lol

madridfanatic: if lando didn’t take a hundred pics, did it even happen? 😭

chillvibesonly: why she gotta look this good without even trying? queen behavior 👑 → amefan99: @chillvibesonly icon status confirmed

justafan45: imagine being that lucky to sit across from her at dinner lol → chaoticwags: @justafan45 lowkey me every night in my dreams

heatwave12: lando probably triple checking his outfit before dinner, classic 😭 → streamwatcher: @heatwave12 lmao the man’s nervous energy is peak boyfriend material

sainzslays: i KNOW she ordered for him at dinner she gives “i’ll have the wine list pls” energy → wagspy: @sainzslays and he just nods like “same for me”

softforlanmelie: parents dinner?? this is husband behavior idk what to tell u

tracksidebabe: someone said lando was nervous??? real

pitlaneprincess: ok but why do i feel like ames was like “don’t be weird” before walking in 😭 → blondesinatrolley: @pitlaneprincess she absolutely did then kissed his cheek and he melted

sundazeddd: lando’s roman empire is just her in that little black dress ordering tapas → cornermerchant: @sundazeddd his mind? GONE

thisshipfloats: lanmelie dinner era... we are NOT normal about this → user1965: @thisshipfloats we never were and we never will be 💅

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The restaurant smelled like garlic, rosemary, and something buttery sizzling over flame. There was a flicker of candlelight at every table and the occasional clink of a fork against a plate, the ambiance low and intimate and—most importantly—neutral territory. No one could get murdered over a tapas platter, right?

Amelie was two glasses of Rioja deep, cheeks pink from the wine and the warmth and the knowledge that Lando kept brushing her thigh under the table like he was grounding himself with every pass of his knuckles.

Her mother, Victoria, was enthusiastically telling a story about a hummingbird she’d seen that morning from their hotel balcony—her gestures graceful, her nails a coral pink that matched the gauzy scarf she wore.

Her dad, Elias, was nodding along, sipping a beer with his usual slow, deliberate movements. He hadn’t said much yet, but he didn’t need to. He was the kind of man whose silences held as much weight as his words. Lando hadn’t stopped fidgeting since the olives hit the table.

—So, Lando,— Victoria said, setting her glass down with a pleasant smile, —how’s the travel schedule coming along for the summer?—

—Busy,— he said, quick, polite. —Pretty much all over the place. We’re back-to-back in July. But we have a break coming up, and I’m really looking forward to it.—

Elias hummed. —Do you rest during those?—

—I try,— Lando said, and Amelie could feel the exact moment he started sweating under his collar. —But... uh, Amelie’s schedule’s usually worse than mine, so we kind of just…collapse in the same timezone and hope for the best.—

Her mother laughed. —Sounds about right.—

Amelie felt the flutter rise in her chest. Now or never. The timing was as good as it would ever be. Lando’s knee bumped hers again, like he could feel the mental storm brewing next to him.

She set her wineglass down. —Okay. So. Speaking of timezones.—

Lando froze.

Her parents both turned to her, attentive but unaware.

She straightened a little in her seat, brushed her hair back behind her ear, and tried to ignore the way Lando’s hand slid under the table and latched onto hers like an anchor.

—So,— she said again, more bravely. —I’ve been thinking a lot about…life logistics. Touring, filming, everything. And Lando and I have been trying to juggle everything as best we can. And... it’s worked. Surprisingly well, actually.—

Victoria tilted her head. Elias was unreadable.

Amelie took a breath.

—And we’ve talked about it, and I’ve thought about it, and I feel really good about this decision. Which is why I wanted to tell you guys now. In person. At dinner. With food around, so you can’t yell.—

Lando choked on air. Her mom blinked.

Amelie pushed forward. —I’m moving in with Lando. In Monaco.—

There was a long, dense pause. A kind of stunned silence that made Lando go very still beside her, like if he didn’t move, he might not be noticed.

—Oh,— her mom said softly, blinking again.

Elias’ face didn’t change, but his beer stopped midair.

Lando, under the table, whispered, —You actually did it. Oh my God.—

Amelie squeezed his hand so hard he let out a tiny squeak.

She turned her gaze to her parents, eyes wide, heart pounding. —I know it sounds fast, but it’s really not. We’ve been together for a while, and I’ve practically lived out of a suitcase in his apartment since February. It just makes sense now. We love each other. And we want to build something. Together.—

Victoria was the first to speak again. Her voice was calm, careful, but not cold. —That’s a big step, sweetheart.—

—It is,— Amelie agreed, shoulders squared, voice firm despite the flush in her cheeks. —But it doesn’t feel big. It feels… right. I’m not eighteen and running off to live with a boy who wears trucker hats ironically. I’ve thought this through. And we’ve made it work across oceans and cities and timezones. This just feels like the next chapter. A good one.—

Victoria looked at Elias. Elias looked at Victoria.

Lando looked like he wanted to melt into his chair and disappear forever.

Amelie could feel her heart doing pirouettes in her chest. She was suddenly hyperaware of how quiet the restaurant had become—or maybe that was just in her head. A nearby server clinked down a fresh basket of bread somewhere and Amelie thought, if my dad doesn’t say something in the next five seconds I’m going to become a puddle on this Spanish tile floor.

Finally, Elias cleared his throat. His voice was slow, deep, thoughtful. —Have you signed anything? A lease?—

Lando blinked, clearly not expecting that to be the first question.

Amelie shook her head. —No, not yet. We wanted to tell you before making it formal. But we’ve talked about it for months. He has the space. And… I’m happy there. It feels like home.—

That last part made Lando glance sideways at her, eyes soft and stunned.

Victoria’s lips twitched, like she was fighting between fifteen different emotions. She reached for her wine, took a slow sip, then said, —Well. I hope you at least make him clean out a drawer for your skincare.—

Amelie let out a breathless laugh. —He already has. And a full closet rail. And part of his fridge.—

—Part?— Victoria raised a brow.

—Okay, like… seventy-five percent,— Lando muttered, finally finding his voice. —She keeps putting tiny glass jars of weird pickled things in there and yelling at me when I knock them over.—

Elias exhaled a sound that might’ve been a chuckle. Might’ve.

—You’re the one who stores energy drinks like a feral college student,— Amelie shot back, nudging him.

—You’re the one who stores sea moss. I don’t even know what sea moss does.—

—It’s good for your skin and immune system.—

—So’s sunshine but you yell at me when I don’t wear SPF.—

—Because you’re English and fragile,— she replied.

Victoria held up a hand, laughing now. —Okay, okay. Domestic bliss confirmed.—

Amelie looked at her parents again, trying to read between the smiles. Her mother looked amused but thoughtful. Her father was chewing slowly, like he was digesting more than just the food.

And then he looked at Lando.

Not with menace, not with disappointment—just with that signature stillness that always meant he was choosing his words carefully.

—You’ll take care of her?— he asked simply.

Lando nodded immediately, jaw clenched like he’d been waiting for the moment to swear an oath. —Always. I promise.—

Elias looked at him for a beat longer, then turned back to his plate. —Good.—

Amelie blinked. —Wait. That’s it? No dramatic fatherly warning? No “she’s still my little girl” speech?—

—No,— Elias said plainly. —You’re not a little girl. And I trust you to know what you’re doing. Even if I don’t love the speed of it.—

Amelie softened. She reached for her dad’s hand across the table, squeezing it once.

Victoria sighed dramatically. —I was really hoping I could guilt you into staying closer to home by buying you new Le Creuset.—

—You can still do that,— Amelie offered sweetly. —I’ll take it with me.—

Her mom shook her head with a rueful smile. —You’re really doing this, huh?—

—I am.—

She leaned into Lando’s side, and his arm instinctively wrapped around her chair.

—Well,— Victoria said, raising her glass once more, —to terrifying choices and brave daughters.—

—And golden retriever boyfriends who respect women,— Amelie added, lifting hers too.

Lando flushed scarlet. —I do respect women.—

—We know, babe,— she whispered with a grin.

Elias clinked his glass against hers gently. —Just don’t forget to call home.—

Amelie smiled. —I won’t. I promise.—

They sipped. Lando exhaled a full-body breath of relief. And for the first time all night, he let himself laugh—really laugh, warm and wide—as Amelie laced their fingers under the table and leaned her head on his shoulder like she already belonged there.

Because she did.

And soon, officially, she would.

[c4toru]

Make Villian Nanami as ur bf hcs ok byee *dies*

i love this reallll bad, i wrote him as a cursed spirit in this but i hope this still satisfies you :p

curse!nanami who was so intrigued by your presence, how you carried yourself so well. you must’ve been one of the good ones, at least that’s how he saw it in his eyes

curse!nanami who found himself purposely re-routing his day to accompany yours, in hopes of seeing your face. he looked forward to seeing how your hair looked, if your aura felt any different from the other 6 days he saw you, all unbeknownst to you.

curse!nanami who would do his daily routines imagining if you would enjoy doing them with him. would you enjoy the daily strolls he takes through his garden, would you stay up waiting for him late at night while he’s out hunting, would you even help clean his wounds after a rough battle?

curse!nanami who started mysteriously leaving wilted roses at your doorstep and workplace only to wait nearby to watch your reaction from afar. at least he’s trying..?

curse!nanami who finally started appearing in your daily life by showing up at the local flower shop you always stopped by, he just wanted to ensure that any other curses knew not to involve themselves with you

curse!nanami who enjoyed your company. he liked the way you rambled on about which flowers you thought smelled the best or even which ones brightened your mood the most. one could even say.. you were enjoying his presence a lot more than he could imagine

curse!nanami who after a full year of enticing you with romantic gestures, comes clean about his lifestyle. all of it, good and bad. you cut off all contact with him for months, begging him to leave you alone forever. . . and he did just that

curse!nanami who started wallowing in his own self pity, forcing himself to go out on multiple hunts per day to drown himself in his own misery. it all came to a halt when you appeared in front of him, sobbing and babbling on how much you miss him near you.

curse!nanami who promises to shield you away from his lifestyle, to only show you the good sides of himself. his chest hurts to see you in pain, wanting to drain all the negativity out of you and dwell in it himself.

curse!nanami who parades you around his garden during the day before setting off to fulfill his evil duties at night. he’s happy as long as you’re content with the life you live by his side, and you were! most of the time . .

curse!nanami who always apologizes first when you get into an argument, he doesn’t usually care for such little matters but he knows how emotional humans are. you’re so delicate, apologizing under any circumstances is the least he could do to make sure his pretty girlfriend is happy

curse!nanami who is now slowly assimilating to you. he wakes up early in the morning with you, gets ready for the day with you, bathes with you, even sleeping peacefully next to you.

it’s one of those nights where you sit comfortably in silence, embraced in each others warmth. you rest your head on his chest while he threads his thick fingers through your silky hair. “kento, i wish you could stay with me tonight.. don’t want you out there” you pout, rubbing circles with your pointer finger on his broad chest.

“i know, i know pretty. next time.” he replies as he shushes you to sleep, rubbing his thumb gently on your cheek. once you doze off, he’s up and gone but you always know he’ll be there in the morning, arms wrapped around you as you soak in his warmth.

a/n : writing this so late at night so it’s all just pure brainrot lol. ty guys for all the reqs, i’ll get to them soon i promise :p

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Frayed Edges

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky used to be so in love and so… ignorant of the roles you had to play, which lead to you breaking up. But that didn’t seem to keep you away from each other since you now act as Bucky’s nurse whenever he gets hurt. Based off my mini fic here.

Stitched Together | Pull the Thread | In Stitches | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

He was pissed off. His entire body hurt and he was really pissed off.

Sam dropped him off at your place. Bucky didn't want to deal with anyone else right now. He told Sam he'd call him when he'd need to get picked up.

He limps up to your door, grimacing at every move he makes. The stab wound in his stomach hurt like a bitch and he needed your help ASAP.

He knocks on your door, ringing the doorbell with urgency. The door swings open and your eyes widen, "Holy shit, Bucky!" You pull him inside and he groans in pain.

Bucky takes a quick glance at your table, seeing two sets of plates set out, "You expecting someone?"

You open your mouth to reply and there's a knock at your door, "Shit," you murmur, "Go to my room. Don't make a sound. Hurry!"

He obeys without a word. As soon as your bedroom door closes, you rush to your front door and pull it open, "Hey, dad! Sorry, was in the bathroom."

"It's alright, Bug," your dad kisses your head and enters your home, the bag of takeout in his hand. You take the bag from him and head to the dining table.

"Nice! Sushi!" you feign excitement, silently praying that, for whatever reason, your dad doesn't go to your room to find your ex boyfriend, now mob boss, bleeding on your floor.

"You still like the dragon roll, right?"

"Yup!"

"Good," your dad joins you at the table.

"Um, I have to finish some online training class really quickly and then I'll join you in a bit."

"Yeah, yeah. No problem. Go finish up. I'll be here," your dad waves you away and you rush to your bedroom, locking it behind you.

You head to the conjoining bathroom, as see Bucky cleaning his wound. “Why the fuck did you think coming here was a good idea?!” You whisper angrily at the bleeding mob boss in your home.

“I didn’t know your dad was coming over!” Bucky loudly whispers back in response.

“Exactly! You didn’t know which is why the smart thing to do would’ve been to call or text me to let me know you planned on coming!”

The mob boss scoffs, “Well sorry, I was a little too busy trying to not to die from a stab wound!” He gestures to his punctured skin.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh, “Out of nights you get hurt, it had to be the night my dad and I have dinner together.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “My bad. I’ll make sure to schedule my stabbings at a more convenient time.”

“Idiot,” you mumble as you grab your first aid kit from under the sink, and gesture for him to sit on your toilet.

You work in a quick and efficient silence. Bucky doesn’t make an effort of conversation because he knows you prefer silence when you work.

Despite your annoyance with him, you're still gentle. You apologize for the stinging of neosporin.

He watches you with an observant gaze, a softness in his eyes. A sense of longing fills him in the pit of his stomach...or maybe that's the feeling of the needle you're sewing him up with.

Bucky still can't believe this is where life has lead you both. You help save lives, he, on occasion, ends lives. You're light, while Bucky lives and works in the dark.

He knows coming back into your life was dangerous, but he couldn't help it. He just missed you so much and was desperate to have you back in any capacity. Even if he can't have you the way that he wants.

You finish up, taking off the bloody gloves you wore and throwing them into the trash, “Stay here. Take some meds. I’ll check up on you, but please be quiet. If dad finds you, he’ll kill both of us.” You state with concern and seriousness.

He nods and gives you a shy smile, “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Go enjoy dinner with your pop.”

You stand with a sigh, “Just text me if you need anything. I’ll pretend it’s America or something.”

“Got it. Thanks,” Bucky says as he slowly stands from your toilet after you stitched him up.

He watches as you quickly clean up and exit your room. He listens to the distant sound of you and your dad talking.

Bucky’s shoulder slumps as he lets out a shaky sigh. He wishes it never came to this, sneaking around and pretending like he still didn’t love you.

Because he does. He always will, even if you two are now worlds apart from each other, on opposing sides, never meant to be.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hi! Could you do a fic of doey with a reader who smiles all the time even though they are angry, they are angry at the prototype of how much awful thing he’s done to doey and the others. They have their own plan to kill the prototype; they poison themselves with wisteria poison, it could be possible that the prototype would eat them but he dies from the poison. But they obviously didn’t tell the plan to doey

Ah so we’re doing this shinobu style eh? Apologies for the wait anon, hope u like the results!

The Safe Haven wasn’t much more than a series of flickering lights, groaning pipes, and broken dreams stitched together into fragile warmth. But it was safer than anything else down here.

Doey always tried to keep morale up—cracking goofy shapes with his dough body for the younger toys, leaning on his colorful arms and grinning with that plain, mouth-line face. But you could see it. The sorrow. The grief. The cracks between his movements. You felt it.

Especially when he looked at you.

Because you were always smiling. Even when rage churned beneath your skin, even when you stared at the metal walls like they were coffins for children who never got to grow up. Even when your clenched fists made your knuckles go white.

You smiled.

Even now, as you sat beside Doey on a cold bench in one of the Safe Haven’s side corridors, arms folded, eyes distant—smiling.

“Y'know…” Doey’s voice was soft, curling with concern. “You smile too much when you're hurting.”

Your head turned. The smile didn’t waver.

“Oh?” you replied lightly. “Maybe I just like making people feel at ease. Someone has to look like things aren’t completely falling apart.”

Doey tilted his head, his orange and yellow arms loosely draped across his lap. “But you are falling apart.”

You looked away again.

He leaned closer, blue hat tipping forward, expression unreadable but tone heavy.

“I know what the Prototype’s done. I know what he did to me. To the kids. To Jack… to Matthew. I know you’re angry.”

Silence.

You smiled wider.

“I’m fine.”

Doey’s voice dropped. “You’re planning something. Aren’t you?”

That made you pause.

Just a beat too long.

The silence hung like fog, thick and heavy between you both.

He shifted suddenly, rising to his stubby red feet, the stretch of his arms creating a soft creaking sound as he stepped in front of you.

“Tell me you’re not going to do something stupid,” he said. His voice cracked near the end. “Please.”

You stood too, slower, hands carefully tucked into the sleeves of your shirt. You looked up into his eye-holes, feeling the weight of all the lives clinging to his shoulders.

You reached up and cupped his squishy face gently.

“I’m going to end this,” you said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You smiled again, sweet and hollow.

But Doey didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. “You’re going to die, aren’t you?”

You closed your eyes.

And didn’t answer.

——————

The air in the sub-basement vibrated with an oppressive hum. The walls pulsed with the Prototype’s corrupted life—his web of metal and flesh threading deeper into the bones of the facility.

You waited in the center of a collapsed hall. The poison already pumping through your veins. Your heartbeat thundered, and your smile… remained.

Wisteria poison. Slow. Beautiful. Irresistible.

The kind of thing that would make a predator ignore caution and feast.

“Come on, you bastard,” you muttered under your breath. “Come take a bite.”

The shadows parted.

The hand reached first.

Metal tendrils. Rotting flesh. The Prototype's grotesque maw swirled open in anticipation.

He laughed.

And lunged.

You didn’t scream, didn’t move an inch to fight back. Only the same constant variable the prototype expected, except, this was going to be his last and fatal mistake as you smiled with knowing.

———————

Moments later, Doey felt it.

A snap in the air.

Something missing.

He ran—faster than his doughy frame should’ve allowed, the colored streaks of his body a blur through the halls.

When he found you, your body was already collapsed, eyes glassy, lips parted in a frozen smile. The Prototype’s corpse was slumped nearby—twitching in spasms, his insides dissolving from within, poisoned by your sacrifice.

Doey dropped to his knees.

“No.” His voice cracked.

“No, no, no—you didn’t—” He held you close, his arms wrapping around you despite the tremble in them. The blue of his torso pressed to your fading warmth.

“You could’ve told me,” he whispered. “I would've—we would've found another way.”

Tears didn’t fall from his eyes. He didn’t have any. But his voice shook like thunder behind clouds.

“I’m supposed to protect everyone.”

You didn’t respond. But that smile was still there.

Peaceful, relaxed. More then he ever had seen it been. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“I hope you found your home.”

[her-devils-advocate]

Let me take care of you

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: fluff and smut

summary: It has been a few months since the war ended, and peace has brought a lot of change along with it. Physical and mental scars surround both of you, so you decide to show Levi just how much you love him.

note: This is my first time when it comes to branching out and writing smut, so apologies if it's not the best!

word count: 2,245

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55780150

You watch as Levi enters your shared room, he places his cane on his side of the bed before moving towards the mirror. You’re peacefully stretched out across your side, having been waiting for him to finish his book and join you for the evening. Ever since the war ended, he had gradually been getting used to at least attempting to rest for the night and even though the nightmares persist, no longer being on high alert at all times has since helped.

Your eyes are locked onto him as he slowly removes his shirt, a fresh one already waiting for him on the nightstand nearby as he starts getting ready for bed.

You take the chance to slowly drag your eyes across his revealed flesh, your gaze trailing over the firm muscles of his back, flexing with each little movement. Your gaze shifts to run across the myriad of scars littering his pale skin, the silver ones glittering in the overhead light while the darker, larger ones sit proudly upon their owner's back. You love tracing his scars, mapping out the constellation while he slowly dozes off, lulled by your soft touch. Back when you were scouts, it was almost the only way to guarantee he would sleep, especially for longer than his usual three hours.

"I can see you gawking, you know." His voice breaks you out of your memory and you look up to meet his eyes in the mirror. His eyebrow is raised and you can see the gleam of amusement that he tries to hide within his eyes.

"It's not gawking, it's called appreciating." You reply, your voice is light, knowing where his mind will take him. A small grumble from the man confirms your suspicions.

"Yeah right, what's there to appreciate?" Levi gestures to himself, fixing you with an unimpressed look that you are happy to return. You feel your heart clench at the rare moment of insecurity on display. You watch through the mirror as his eyes flick over to the scar sitting along the right side of his face before dropping to rest on his still-bandaged hand, despite the injury having been long since healed.

You gingerly reach out your hand, beckoning for him to sit beside you. He reluctantly complies, letting out a small sigh before sitting down on the plush bed.

You gently take his damaged hand in yours, peppering a dozen kisses across the top of it. You only stop when his hand moves to cup your jaw, his eyes are tender and you can see the unwavering adoration within their silver depths.

"Levi, you're beautiful and no, don't give me that look, you are." You bring a spare hand to brush the silky strands of hair out of his face, tucking a few of the longer ones behind his ear and catching his attention again. 

"You're still the same man I fell in love with all those years ago, a few extra injuries haven't and won't change that. We both survived, despite everything that’s happened we’re still here and that's all I could ask for."

You lean closer to him, searching his eyes for acceptance and when he gives a small nod, you bring your lips together in a sweet kiss. You feel him shuffle to be able to place a hand on your waist, the other coming up to thread through your hair as he kisses you back, just as fervently. 

You feel his lips desperately move against yours, savouring the moment in his usual impatient style before he deepens the kiss. You feel his tongue enter you, meeting with your own and you struggle to hold back the moan as you grip onto his bicep to calm the frantic beating of your heart. He lets out a hum of his own, the sound echoing in your mind as you lose yourself to the sensations of your shared desire. 

You try to control your breathing as you explore him with your tongue, despite having done it so many times before. He tastes like his own unique blend of tea, a common occurrence for him after you had purchased a small collection of herbs he could use to make his own unique flavour. Your grip on his arm tightens as he gently nips on your lower lip, earning a small groan from you. You hold onto one another desperately as you push your bodies closer together, your kiss growing more and more frantic and the mental dam finally breaks, months of stress leaving you wanting nothing more than one another.

You run your hands up his arms until you can hook them behind his head, letting your fingers dance along the velvet hairs of his undercut while you melt in his hold, giving all control over to him as he continues to greedily brush his tongue against yours. He drinks in your hunger, fueling his own desire.

Remembering that you both require oxygen, you pull apart from each other with a small sigh. Levi brings his hand up to gently brush his thumb against your bruised lips, staring at you in dazed wonder. His touch is electric, sending shivers up and down your body as you gaze at him through half-lidded eyes. 

“What was that for?” His voice is slightly breathy and you can feel his fingers continue to play with the strands of your hair.

“I just want to show you how much I love you.” You try to meet his eyes, for once not willing to back down from his intense gaze, only for him to be the one to break eye contact first.

“You show me that every day when you remain by my side…” Levi’s voice is a whisper, yet you hear him as clear as day. The thought of leaving his side had never once crossed your mind, not when you were both younger, still learning about the ever-changing threats awaiting you and certainly not now those threats are long gone. You have both earned this peace and you are sure as hell going to enjoy it.

You gently shake your head, clearing your thoughts as you move forward to place small kisses along his jaw, “I know, but let me take care of you tonight, hmm?”

You don’t get to hear his reply, the words caught in his throat when you move lower, leaving a wet trail of kisses down his neck and across his chest. You trace the chiselled plains of his chest with your slender hand while your mouth follows closely behind. You smirk when you feel his stomach flex once your hand reaches the waistband of his trousers. His grey eyes follow your every movement as you lower yourself on the ground before him, parting his legs to give you more space.

His eyes burn into you when you lift your gaze to search his and you have to bite back a grin once you spot the way his ears flush, now hellbent on making sure his flustered state grows even more. You carefully undo the clasp holding the dark material together before dragging them off his body at a painfully slow rate, revelling in the way he lets out a frustrated grunt. You can feel him stare you down, his gaze heavy on you, but you are far too distracted by the tent forming in his boxers.

When you look at him once more, he quirks an eyebrow, whatever bout of insecurity he might have had has since faded, replaced with pure desire and control as he watches you like a hawk. You instead turn your head, kissing along his inner thigh and smirking when you feel him tense under your light touches. His skin is hot beneath your lips and you leave a trail of goosebumps behind with each kiss, Levi lets out a small hiss when you nip at the tender flesh before smoothing it over with your tongue.

Having enough of your slow admiration of his alabaster flesh, now painted with delicate love bites, you feel his hand cup your jaw and raise your head once more. His eyes are dark as he brushes your lips again, but this time you feel his finger part your lips with a knowing look. Your tongue wraps around his finger, not once averting your eyes as you continue to suck on his finger while Levi does his best to bite back a groan.

“Gods…” His voice comes out strained as he tries to hold back, trying to hold onto what little control he has left. He swallows roughly, anticipation flowing through him as he grips the sheets below with his other hand.

He watches you carefully while you continue your advancement up his thigh with your deft fingers, coming to palm at his clothed erection, his chest is rising and falling heavily and he quickly removes his fingers from your mouth before rushing to remove the annoying material currently in your way. His stiff cock springs free, precum glistening along his tip, and you waste no time. 

You place another tender kiss on his tip before swirling your tongue around it and licking small stripes along the slit, drawing a long groan out of him. With a small giggle, one which earns you an exasperated eye roll, you move to the base of his shaft, slowly dragging your tongue up along it before parting your lips and finally guiding his cock into your mouth. You hear a sharp hiss from above as Levi’s hand comes to rest on your head, his fingers are tense as he tangles them in your hair. 

You happily bob your head, swirling your tongue around his shaft before following the veins of his flesh with the tip of your tongue, rewarding you with a chorus of swears erupting from Levi’s lips. You then swap to flatten your tongue against him, sinking him deeper into your throat with each thrust of your head until you can feel the tip pressing against the back of your throat. You glide your hands over his thighs and up towards his hips, holding them in place when you feel his composure begin to slip.

“F-fuck, don’t stop,” he moans your name, the sound broken by his harsh panting as he rolls his head back, struggling to stay upright as you continue to work on him.

You give a small hum in response which earns you an even deeper moan as the vibrations help to overstimulate him, you pull your head back when you feel his hips begin to twitch, the fingers in your hair tightening. More swears spill from him when you descend once more, your tongue working him more and more until his breathing is nothing more than frantic gasps.

“Shit,” Your name is consumed by a shuddered groan, bringing a devilish smirk to your busy lips, “I’m gonna…”

Levi brings a fist to his mouth, biting down on it to stifle his frenzy of shudders as he comes, the thick liquid running down your throat as you swallow around him. You release him with a small pop, taking a different form of pleasure from the state you’ve left him in. He collapses onto his back and pants heavily with one arm draped over his fully flushed face. You watch his chest rise and fall while you wipe your mouth before crawling over the bed to lie beside him.

He doesn’t hesitate to roll over and pull you into his arms, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck while he recovers from your onslaught. After a small time spent within his embrace, the two of you existing as one, he lifts his head to look down at you and you can spot the small rosy hue still decorating his cheeks.

“That’s not what I was expecting tonight.” His deadpan voice brings a bubble of laughter out of you and you shift positions, turning to have your back pressed against his warm chest, your head resting against his arm that’s now being used as your makeshift pillow. You feel his other arm wrap around your waist, holding you tightly, as if you would float away should he let go and snap him out of a dream. You give his forearm a light squeeze before rubbing small circles into his skin.

“You should know by now, I’m full of surprises.” 

You’re not sure if it was even possible for his features to soften more than before, yet he always finds a way to prove you wrong. He looks at you as if you’re his world and you’re certain both of you wouldn’t mind if you could just hide away together, alone within your private little sanctuary of linen and silk, safe from the ghosts following you.

His voice, now laced with pleasant exhaustion, causes your lips to twitch with a content smile, “I’ll make it up to you.”

He lets out a small yawn and you feel him place a soft kiss on the top of your head, shifting slightly to regain feeling in his arm that is still being used in favour of the dozens of pillows you had argued were necessary. A calm, sleepy silence fills the room and you feel him drift off behind you, his breathing coming out in slow and steady puffs against your neck. You feel your own eyes grow heavy, the warm emitting from his body helping to lull you off into your own slumber.

[kruegerspillow]

A soldier's yearning; Simon Ghost Riley fic.

Creators note: I'm back from the dead (again)...... Whoopsie.... Please take this fic as another apology as I had just finished my dreadful exams :(

Summary: Simon had just departed for a short deployment a few weeks before, though, the feeling of longing surrounded you as you waited for his visit.

Warnings: Swearing, not proofread, a pinch of angst with fluff :3

The atmosphere was tense as you laid restlessly in your bed. You held your phone loosely, the sheets were colder than before; and you swore you could've seen someone strangely familiar walk towards your apartment. You shifted once again, trying your best to find a comfortable position for you to sleep in as you looked out of your third story window.

Simon had left for a short deployment without informing you. And, the worst thing is, you had a brief argument with him right before he departed. It was no serious argument, no shouting or insults; just disagreement. Though, there were no apologies, no words, no kisses or hugs. It left you hanging on a loose thread, the feeling of worry gnawing at you. You were never the type to argue without a valid reason and so was Simon; yet, this departure made you feel some kind of way.

Here you are, weeks after his departure, still worrying for him and longing for his presence. You checked your phone from time to time, hoping that he would reply to at least one of your messages. Delivered, delivered and delivered. Not a single response from him. It felt lonely without him, as if a small void was formed inside the chambers of your heart. Sleeping in his bed wasn't going to be a permanent solution, though, you figured it's better compared to sleeping in your own— without a single hint of him. His room smelled faintly like his cologne, and it provided a sense of comfort. You placed your phone on the nightstand, letting out a small sigh before pulling the blanket over you slightly. Soon, without you knowing, you doze off to his scent lingering around you.

Thud.

You heard the small thud and immediately sat up. You looked around your room, looking disheveled. Your eyes caught on the small box that you had accidentally kicked out of your bed. You shifted, your legs hanging from the edge of his bed before grabbing the box. As you moved your head to the side, you saw a small rose that had been placed since the night before.

From: Simon Riley.

You read the small writings on the cover of the box before softly opening it. There was a small letter of apology along with some sweets that he knew you had always loved. Your heartbeat rised before you placed the box aside. You quickly got up from your bed, walking towards the living room quickly. There he was. Your Simon Riley. He was no longer Ghost, no longer the lieutenant when he was with you.

He slept on the couch, not wanting to wake you up or upset you by sleeping beside you, even though it was his bed you were on. His chest softly rise up and down before hearing your footsteps. He nearly jolted up before meeting your gaze, it was full of love— full of relief and desperation. You pounced on him before his hands went to your waist, steadying you carefully so you won't accidentally fall off of the couch.

"Sweetheart…" He murmured underneath his breath, his voice full of yearning and pure affection. He almost seemed like he regretted leaving you for that silly deployment. "Fuckin' hell, you got me weak on the knees, love."

You didn't say anything, relishing the feeling of his arms that found its way back to your figure. Your breath hitched as you rested your chin on his broad chest, looking up at him with pleading eyes. Your eyes had gone glossy in mere seconds, but Simon did not complain; feeling the way his heart ached as he noticed your eyes swelling up with tears. He embraced you in his arms, taking in your scent that he misses deeply.

"Hey, c'mon, no tears, yeah? 'M back here with you, lovie." His voice was soothing, providing security and love for you. "I missed you sooo much. Y'know tha'? I won't ever, ever, let go of you."

Soon, you would realize how lucky you were to find someone like him— a soft, caring man— hidden behind the act of coldness and hostility.

(Please check your phone :( He replied to every single one of your messages!)

[chaotic-birds]

fluffy Jason thought

if you like run your fingers through his hair, especially when he’s sleepy, he’ll kiss your palms and wrists. Especially after an argument, it’s like his silent little apology before the actual words (kinda like he’s hyping himself up in a way)

I love soft!Jason so much :,)

soft!Jason owns my heart. thank you for sending this in!!! my writing is a little rusty, but I had fun writing this so i hope you enjoy!

this is also uploaded on mobile so sorry if the formatting is weird. if it is, i’ll fix it later 😖

TW none | WC ~500 | G angst, fluff, h/c

masterlist

It didn’t take long for you to realize Jason Todd is not used to being loved.

He’s not used to the gentle touches or the soft voices.

But he tries to be.

He tries for you.

Jason’s head lays on your lap, eyes closed as he focuses on the feeling of your fingers threading through his dark hair. The slow motions bring comfort to his fast-paced life. It steadies his breathing and allows his body to sink deeper into the couch cushions.

Although Jason is becoming sleepier, he can’t bring himself to rest. Not when he snapped at you last night. Not when he knows the origin of his frustrations came from his self-hatred that he made you so scared for his well-being.

Jason reaches up to grab the hand that’s been playing with his hair and guides it to his mouth. He places tender kisses on each knuckle. Each time his mouth touches your skin, he can hear the echo of his words he had said to you.

Words that he regrets saying.

“I don’t need you worrying about me all the damn time.”

“I’m not a fucking child, and you’re not my fucking mother.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I can take care of myself. Been doing it for years, darlin’.”

“How about you worry about someone else?”

Jason kisses the inside of your wrist and lets his lips linger on your warm skin.

Skin that he loves to feel against his. Skin from the person he loves so much that it scares him.

Scares him because what happens if your skin becomes cold forever. What if…

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your wrist. “I’m so sorry.”

Your hand cups his face, angling it so his blue eyes connect with yours.

“I know, Jayce. I forgive you.”

Jason’s lips twitch in a failed attempt to smile.

He should have never gotten mad about you caring for him.

If you were the one stumbling home after a bad fight, bruised and bleeding, he’d be fretting over you too. Hell, he’d probably react in more extreme ways.

“I’ll try not to worry so much,” you say.

Jason shakes his head. “I don’t want you to, but I understand why you do. I… I worry about you too.”

You smile, nodding. “I’m glad you do.”

Tilting his head, he questions, “You are?”

“Yup,” you reply. “It means you care.”

Jason’s eyes flicker from yours.

He knows he cares about you. He’d give his life for you. He’d take all the pain in the world if it meant you were unharmed.

But if he’s willing to do that because he cares about you, does that mean you’d do the same because you care about him?

Jason leans his head into your palm that’s still against his cheek as he lulls over the thought.

He’s not used to feeling loved. He’s not used to your soft touches and soothing voice.

But he’s trying.

Because deep down in his heart, he wants to be.

He wants to be loved.

He wants to be loved by you.

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[knoxic]

Cycle of Greed

Azriel x Reader | Lucien Vanserra x Reader | p1 - p2 - p3 - p4 - p5 - p6

Summary: Reader talks to both of them (separately), things get 100% clear.

wc: 2,2k

warnings: none?

a/n: I apologize for this being so short, I just didn't want to leave you guys without them for so long (like I have before 😬), I didn't have much time to write this week and when I did I was surprised at how inspired I was. Absolutely loved writing this part.

You felt like passing out, the aching in your heart making you lightheaded. Too many emotions coming in waves with the pumping of blood rushing through your veins, the numbness in your limbs contradicting that feeling.

Not in your wildest dreams would you have seen Lucien on his knees declaring himself to you. If that's what he was doing. 

“You don't have to say anything now.” He whispered with a small laugh, you think he wouldn't have been able to say anything louder than that due to his nervousness. “I'll go take a walk, give us both time to ponder over it…” 

Lucien's hand slipped from your face and only then did you realize how much you were relying on his touch, as soon as it left your cheek, the sting of cold nicking at your skin took place. The sun was still bright outside, its warmth kept the cold away, it was just your skin that had surpassed the natural heat. Without realizing, your hand rested on that same spot, rubbing softly to bring the warmth back. Lucien, of course, noticed, ever the attentive male.

He could swear his heart swelled with love at the sight of you being so affected by his touch. By him. Deciding it was better to not overwhelm you, Lucien turned to walk out of his room, as his hand met the door handle, your soft voice reached his ears.

“I don't know what to do…” You whispered. He felt sick hearing how unsure and unsettled you sounded.

“You don't have to do anything, darling.” He needed to reassure you, “You don't have to do or say anything. Take your time.” 

“No, it's not like that,” your eyes met his with urgency, “I know what I want, I just don't know how to get it…” A sudden spark of hope flickered inside his chest.

“And what is it you want, Ace?” His voice low and steady.

You knew this was a chance you perhaps would never have again, so you needed to make good use of it, “You.”

Lucien held himself back from rushing to you, the urge to feel your soft lips on his, to feel the warmth of your body heat ten times over in contact to his bare skin. He kept telling himself to take things slow, to not scare you off, to be gentle because that's what you deserved, a gentle love. 

Seeing relief so clearly on Lucien's face felt like a cold bucket of water was dropped on your head, so you continued, “But I also want him…” his brows furrowed slightly, the smile gracing his lips faltered, “And I know it's greedy, I know! I can't help it. I don't think I ever stopped loving him, the thread of my love for you did not disrupt the thread of my mating bond, didn't make me choose, it was just there, blooming in silence. Loving you was easy and I didn't see it coming.” 

You could practically hear his thoughts as they momentarily deafened him. Now he knew you loved him, but you also still loved Azriel, and that worried him. Decades of familiarity wouldn’t be outweighed by two years, at most, of friendship.

“You, Lucien Vanserra, disrobed me without bearing me naked. You have claimed me without tasting my lips, without taking. I gave myself to you and I didn't even realize,” a small laugh escaped your lips, “and you held me, with no benefit, took care of me the way I wouldn't have been able to at that moment.”

The tears rolling down your cheeks weren't acknowledged until soft fingers brushed them away. Lucien, back on his knees before you, didn't bother hiding his own, right now, for him, crying was far from being a synonym of pain or sadness.

Instead of a verbal response, Lucien replied by pulling you into a hug, supporting your body when you slipped down his bed. His hold on you tightened as he quietly sobbed, his sniffles muffled by your neck where he hid. Your fingers gently brushing his locks seemed to ease him, the occasional scratch on his scalp and squeeze on his nape. Too soon for your liking, his arms left your body. 

With both hands holding your face, Lucien brought your face closer to his, resting his forehead on yours, “Go to him.” He spoke, a newfound confidence lacing his words, “Go and talk to him, do what your heart tells you. I don't mind settling on whatever deal he might want to make, I don't mind fighting the blood duel for you, I don't mind if you go back to the night with him, as long as I get to have you by sunrise.”

𓂃

“He rejected the bond.” 

Azriel eyed you silently, trying to gauge your reaction to what you were saying. “I guess we all knew it was a matter of time before it happened…”

Momentarily, your mind drifted to how relieved Lucien looked as he told you about his decision, “Yeah…” 

“How did it make you feel?” It took you a few moments to understand what he was saying, when you did, you took notice of how calmly he had spoken.

Honestly? Happy. “Relieved. I hated seeing him suffering, so it's nice…”

“Ace.” Azriel tilted his head down to try and catch your eyes, “You said you two talked about us, tell me?” 

You knew you had to talk to him about it, you had mentioned it first, but it still had a weird feeling forming inside you. His thumb brushed your hand, tracing your knuckles and down to your nails. Sooner than you planned, the words spilled.

You told him everything, from entering Lucien's room, to how easy you had voiced your feelings to him, pretty much like you were doing now.

“He said he's willing to make a deal with you, to fight a blood duel if you want…”

“What do you want?” Throughout your life, there haven't been many moments where you were asked that same question, and now, not even a day apart, you were asked it twice. “What are you willing to do?” 

“Az–” 

“I won't stop you if you want him, I won't stand on your way. But I need to know if I can fight for you–if I need to fight for you.” The urgency in his voice showed how afraid he was of losing you.

“You don't have to.” You apparently conjured enough confidence to convince him, Azriel quieted. “I'm not giving up on us, but I don't want to give up Lucien either. I don't know how I'm going to do this…” Your last words slowly turned into a whisper.

You granted yourself a moment to think. With Azriel in front of you, not Lucien, things seemed different. Even though he was the only one to mention aloud what the three of you secretly wished for, you were scared of what would happen if you agreed. 

Suffering was a natural thing. Living meant feeling, and the ability to feel wasn't always a good thing. In the duration of a day, it was possible to feel many different emotions in just a span of hours, a happy moment could quickly change by a simple act. And when you've been living for centuries, fighting battles, meeting new people and mourning others, expecting suffering becomes a habit. 

It wasn't a nice thing to say, but it was true. You wish you didn't have to anticipate pain, that things could remain as they were. Steady and familiar. But that prohibited you from experiencing new things, good and unexpected things. Sometimes living through habits and routines blinded you from seeing the good in things, and after losing those habits, you were allowed to see how many opportunities to appreciate were lost.

“This whole time we've been apart made me realize some things need to change.” He nodded slightly, “I missed you, missed our routine, missed our unprompted late night dinners, missed waking up in the middle of the night to your heavy wing draped over me–” Azriel's bashful laugh surprised you.

“I didn't know I did that…” His cheeks turned a tad darker.

“Well, I never minded it, it's comforting… but imagine a dark and heavy form suddenly covering you when you're barely conscious, it's scary.” 

At that and the smirk on your face, Azriel doubled over in laughter, the kind of laughter that only came when he was feeling especially giddy with happiness. The ruffling of wings and coolness on your arms showed how loose he felt. His shadows happily settled around you both, you had a feeling they purposefully kept away from your faces.

When he looked up, his eyes were shining, “This,” he whispered, “I missed this.” 

You carefully watched him, “Me too, but you're changing the subject…” You wouldn't have minded spending some more time joking around with him, not seeing the frown on his face and not having to worry if your tone of voice was too playful for him at the time, which is why you needed to cut him off.

“I know.” He nodded slowly, hazel eyes drifting down to your conjoined hands, “I'm sorry. I don't like changes, I don't want things to change… But I know they have to,” there was a long pause and for a moment you thought he was going to stop there, “and it scares me.” 

“Are you scared I'm going to leave you?”

He subtly nodded, "I'm scared you'll find out he's much better than me."

Your brows furrowed, "That's bullshit, you two are completely different, you can't compare."

"I know." He shook his head as if brushing away a thought, "He's just better at taking care of you than I am, and I had decades to improve..."

"Another bullsh–"

"He's good," he cut you off, "and I can see why you love him. I've got baggage, shit I still have to work on but was never brave enough to do so. You helped me so much, made life easier to deal with, but that's not your job, and I want both of us to be at the same stage, you know?"

"Why do I feel like you're trying to break up with me?" You whispered.

Azriel laughed, cupping your face and bringing you for a little peck on your lips, brushing you nose with his, "No, sweetheart, I'm not. Wouldn't choose a life without you in it." Taking a moment to admire you from up close, he became quiet.

"What's on your mind?" You searched his eyes to try and find a clue, even if his face appeared distance, his eyes were nothing but focused on you, shedding emotion.

"You said things needed a change, right?" You hummed in response, "Let me get to know you again. We were pushed into tearing down our lives, it's only fair we get to build it back up, stronger this time. Perhaps with room for more?" Hope emanated from him.

Dread danced in your guts, "We already had room for more–"

"Which I still hope to fill, eventually." The hand he kept holding yours gave you a tight squeeze, "It's your call if they'll be decorated with cute bats or sly little foxes... But still, they'll all be raised the same anyways."

You failed to give him a response, too shocked by his words and the images provided by your mind. When the concept of children became a possibility to you, they always bore bat wings and dark hair, but now, influenced by who you hoped would be their father, you saw apple colored eyes and hair, how bright they'd glow on a Autumn day.

They'd push the leaves together, collecting enough to make a little mountain so they could jump in it without hurting themselves, maybe if they were adventurous, which of course they'd would be, conjuring their father's charm, they could convince their winged siblings to take them just a little higher.

It would be chaos from then on, giggles everywhere, hushed whispers to not let mommy know, a few other hoarser whispers and you'd let yourself get closer, to see with your own eyes where they all got the adventurous spirit from. The two males that found the path to your heart and soul, both with enough muscles to knock other males off their feet, using their strength to push more leaves into their children's pile.

The contagious giggles must have affected them too, for Lucien started collecting a bunch of leaves in his arms and quietly, with all his grace, made his way towards Azriel, who in his hunched position beside the giant pile, became almost defenseless when they rained down his back and head. Almost.

Batting his wings against the floor, he sent flying most of the leaves still falling and the ones on his back. His mind being so filled with playing revenge, that he forgot about his designed task. His children's important pile of leaves in front of him, that went flying too, covering them all in its Autumn colors.

"You like that, don't you?" It was a rhetorical question. You napped your eyes to his at the sound of his voice, you could hear his smile before seeing it, "It's okay, I see it too."

Would there be any point in lying? You weren't even sure if you'd manage to come up with a plausible excuse for your daydream. And who would you be trying to fool? Yourself? Because Azriel made it clear what he thought of including Lucien in your life.

"If I tell you, I want him too, would it be easier for you to say yes?"

"Yes."

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[thought--bubble]

Mine To Claim

Dark Aemond X (Commoner Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,193

Canon Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Pregnancy, Infidelity, Dub-con

A/N: Hit 200 followers today!🥳🥳 Thank you to all of you who read and interact with my stories! You make this so fun and make me want to keep writing more and more! 🥰

The bell over the door in your little store chimes at you, and you look up to see the face of your long-time friend. It is an unlikely friendship and a friendship most people know nothing about, but it is a relationship that is dear to your heart.

He holds two small dresses over his arm. There is a seamstress in the keep. An incredibly talented one, but still, he takes dresses to you to be tailored or repaired.

"Hello, my prince," you smile as he brings the dresses up to you.

"These are small. Must be for the little princess?" You take the dresses from him and lay them out on the table before you.

"Running around with her brother, she damaged them. Here and here, " his face is stoic as he points to a few minor tears on the garments.

"Oh, I'll have these fixed up quickly." You hum to yourself as you lift the dress, trying to match the color to your available thread.

"No need to be quick. I have nowhere to be. " he sits down in the chair on the other side of your sewing table.

This was a regular occurrence, ever since the night you found him curled up cold and shaking outside the brothel your father frequented.

He had been dragged there by his brother to "become a man" and was so uncomfortable during the whole ordeal that he ran out into the dark streets alone to escape. It was raining and cold, and he had never been down in here on his own.

Lost, scared, and traumatized, he stumbled down the alleyways behind the brothel, passing by your little hovel where you sat on the stoop just watching the rain. As he moved just past your hovel, he drops to his knees and buries his face in his hands. Once you hear the sobbing, your heart breaks. From his size alone, you can see he is a child like you, so you ran to him, bringing him into your home, and miraculously, he went with you.

When he had pulled his hood down and you saw that silver hair, you froze in terror. It would be your luck that you accidentally dragged a Targaryen prince into your house.

You had apologized profusely, but he wasn't upset with you, and that was how it started, from there, he would come back to town with his brother regularly but instead of following him into the brothel he would come to see you.

You were a secret for him, a safe place where he could unload, you never judged, only supported, and because of that, the two of you grew to be very close.

You couldn't deny that he was handsome and charming. As he grew from a boy to a man, you could not help but be impressed by his commanding presence and his dedication to his swordsmanship and studies.

Today as he sat in the chair across from you, you couldn't help but smile.

"So...." you start and look at him knowingly.

He raises an eyebrow at you and you chuckle.

"How did it go? Your nephews being back?"

He instantly goes rigid and the calm look on his face hardens into a look of fury.

"Well, very well" he chuckles to himself as he crosses his legs.

"Is that so?" You know there is no way it went 'well' by an average person's definition of the word, you were however talking to Aemond so it's possible in his mind it did.

"Yes, I gave a wonderful speech, well received" he leans back in the chair a smug smirk crawling up the corners of his mouth.

You knew better than to continue to pry so you changed the subject. "I also have some good news" you continue stitching the dress in your hand as you wait for his reply.

"hmmm" he taps his fingertips on his knee "and what is that?" He keeps his eye trained on you, with a look of skepticism splayed across his sharp features.

"I am to be married!" You smile brightly and your cheeks heat up.

You have been seeing a fisherman, a young man by the name of Oscar. He has brown curly hair to his shoulders and warm brown eyes. A charming smile with a broad chest and shoulders.

You should have waited until marriage to let him bed you. You knew that. Yet, his charm and charisma had you leave your convictions by the wayside, and you found yourself missing a moon blood shortly thereafter, and when you bombarded Oscar with your fear and panic upon his most recent return, his response was that of elation and he quickly asked your father for permission to wed you.

Aemond's silence is deafening. You stare at him your smile beginning to faulter at his lack of reply.

"Are you not going to congratulate me?" You ask beginning to get a bit more frustrated and impatient.

"For what exactly?" His voice is cold and cruel, his fingertips tapping against his kneecap.

"For... for my happiness?" you are so confused at his behavior. He had always supported you, when you opened your own shop, when you finally put your foot down with your father and got him off the drink.

He grips the arms of the chair he is sitting in, his knuckles turning white. "Happiness?" he grits his teeth and stands up looking toward the door.

"When?" He still hasn't turned around and his voice is tense.

"In a few days..... Aemond.... this won't effect our friendship if that is what you are concerned about" You try to combat his anger and tense air with gentleness and understanding.

"Why is this so hurried?" He completely ignores your prior statement.

"What?"

"Why are you getting married so quickly? What. is. the. hurry?" He is now looking at you with his jaw clenched and his shoulders tense.

"Oh.... I'm ...... " You take a deep breath in. You know that he is a loyal follower of the seven. As are you. This confession is going to make things so much worse.

"I am with child." You close your eyes and squeeze them tight and wait for the inevitable chastising and disappointment.

"So you wish to marry him?"

You slowly open your eyes and look at Aemond with confusion. "Yes"

"And when the child is born, with silver hair and purple eyes, will people not question their true parentage?" He takes in sharp short breaths, and his lone eye is wide open, pupil blown.

"Why would my child look like a Targaryen?" You rub your temples to try and ease the pressure building there. 'What in the seven hells is he getting at?'

He quickly rounds the table and grabs your chin, pulling you up to your feet, your neck strained with your face up to look directly at him.

"Because of me." His face is still as stone. A look of conviction that has you even more confused than before.

"Aemond..... we have never....ummm. " You clear your throat, hoping that he would come to his senses.

He doesn't. He lowers his mouth to yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. At first, you can't help yourself, and you kiss him back. His lips are just as soft as you had imagined them.

He brings his hand up to the side of your face and slides it into your hair. When his kisses start to trail from your mouth down your neck, you start to remember that this isn't right.

"Stop." You push him away and back up. "We can not do this." You run your fingers through your hair.

"Why?" The anger pulsating off of his body is stifling.

"Because! I am to be married! I am with child! Another mans child! Aemond, you are a prince! This is madness!" You turn from him believing this would surely be the end of the situation.

"You are mine to claim!" He yells out.

The booming sound has you swing back around in shock.

He stalks toward you, a dragons fury burning in his sole eye.

"I must claim what is mine. It is not freely given to me. I will take it by force if I must, but the result remains the same. What I covet shall be mine"

"Aemond.... " You slowly back away from him, putting your hands up in front of you in a defensive gesture.

"You are mine." He steps closer to you. "You belong to me ever since the day I found you." He continues moving closer to you as you do your best to back away.

"Your body, your mind, your soul, it's all mine," the pupil of his eye has taken over entirely as he corners you in the back of your little shop.

You again attempt to reason with him. "Aemond... this baby..." He puts his hand up.

"Is mine"

"it can not be, it isn't possible." You press yourself up against the wall tightly. "You know this to be true!"

"It is mine.... because I will it so. " he wraps his hand around your throat, moving his face close to yours, whispering directly into your ear. "I waited too long, I see that now."

He ruffles up your skirts. "You are still mine." He moves his fingers over your heat and releases a husky breath.

"You can feel it, I know you can." He rubs his hand over your clothed center.

You mewl quietly as he moves his hand in a circular motion, applying more and more pressure.

"Your body..... it tells me what you will not. " he pulls your underclothes down to your knees before bringing his hand back to your center.

"You are soaking for me, and still you wish to deny us?" He slides a finger into you while tightening the grip around your throat.

He starts to pump his finger. "Your body has already given into me. The mind will follow. " He lightly nibbles at your cheek, and he crooks his finger, looking for the spot inside of you that would make you even weaker to his touch.

You start moaning loudly. "That's right Dōna Riña " He uses the palm of his hand to apply pressure to your pearl as he starts to slide a second finger into you. "submit"

"I .... I ..." Your body is responding to him in ways it has never responded to Oscar. Your senses are so heightened that you can't even form a coherent thought.

"Tell me you are mine." He tugs at the shell of your ear with his teeth as he brings you closer and closer to climax, holding the weight of your body up with his other hand.

"Yours." You practically whisper as you close your eyes, ready to ride out your pleasure. As soon as the words leave your lips, he stops.

"Not on my fingers." He picks you up by the waist carrying you back over to the sewing table. He slides his hand across, knocking all items to the ground.

You are like putty in his hands. Just desperate for him to touch you again. He lays you down back flat on the table, legs hanging off the end.

He pushes your dress up, exposing you to him. He slides his finger up and down through your folds, causing you to buck your hips toward him. "Say it again," he growls while he pulls the strings of his breeches loose.

Your hazy lust riddled mind is confused, and all you can muster is a gentle "huh?"

He pulls out his hard cock and slides it over your clit spreading your wetness. "I said to say it again, say what you are"

"Yours?" As soon as you say this he starts to push into you.

"Again," he grunts

"Yours!" You whimper

He wraps a hand around your throat as he bottoms out, moving gently against you. He sighs.

"That's right mine" He tightens the grip on your throat as he starts to fuck into you harshly "mine"

"This cunt is mine" He jams two of his fingers into your mouth making you gag "This mouth is mine"

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, dragging the wet digits down the front of your face.

He brings his hand to your chest and palms your breasts through your dress. "These tits are mine"

He brings his hand back down to your pearl, rubbing it in circular motions with his thumb. "It's all mine"

With this, you feel your climax surge through your body, your whole body clenches around him. He lets go of your throat, bringing both hands to your hips, pulling your body to him while he slams into you harder and harder, chasing his own release.

"This womb...." He grunts as he hits his own peak, making sure to fill you completely,"is mine"

You lay back on the table, having been fucked dumb.

"I'll come back for the dresses." He fixes his breeches before pulling your dress back down.

"And when i do, I better not see a husband here"

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@targaryen-dynasty

[pedriache]

Domestic!Pedri Head cannons ۶ৎ

I cannot contain myself. I’m actually about to tweak thinking about these. 😭 Thank you Enny for helping me come up with these smooch smooch. Sorry I got so carried away with these…

feel free to request head canons about anyone !

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, you catch talking to Nilo all the time. Pedri will walk around the house with the little black pup in his arms, pointing things out to him.

“And that’s a picture of me and your uncle Fer.. And that’s my new shoes, those you better not touch.” or he’ll scroll through his camera roll, showing pictures of many different things, mostly pictures he’d taken of you. “Look at her, isn’t she just perfect?” It’s genuinely the most adorable thing in the world.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, after a rough day of practice just wants to lay in between your legs while you thread your fingers through his freshly dried hair. After he adopted Nilo, every time he tries to enjoy your cuddles, the pup will jump and scratch at your legs till Pedri picks him up and lays him on his chest. A small smile takes over your lips at the sight, your boyfriend was just too adorable and so was your new addition.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, likes to cook with you. It had become a common routine for the two of you after you moved in together. Now, with a dog running around the house, you two found yourselves tripping over him often. When you do so, you both erupt into a light of laughter, spewing out apologies and kissing Nilo’s head even though he wasn’t hurt.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, after a long day at practice begs you to wait to shower until he gets home. He always insists that, “it’s saving water.” But you know he just wants an excuse to be close to you, and of course you always agree. You loved the way he peppered your shoulders with soft kisses and the way his hands felt massaging the shampoo into your scalp. Showers with Pedri were when you were your most relaxed, and he felt the same way.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, never leaves you alone. On your days off you like to make meals and snacks for each other instead of going out, knowing Pedri was on a strict diet, it helped save cost anyways. Whenever you are making something, Pedri will sneak up on you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. Despite knowing what you were making, he’ll ask anyways, “What’re you making, amor?” He just loved to hear your sweet voice reply.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, always, and I mean always gives you three kisses whenever he’s about to leave or whenever he is grateful or even if he just is passing by. It’s never on the same spot, he kisses your lips, shoulders, cheek, temple, jaw, neck, anywhere. And he’ll rotate them every time. His own little way of saying, “I love you.” without actually saying it, not that he has a problem saying those three words, but he just liked the simplicity and intimacy of kissing you.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, loves to cuddle with you whenever he can. On his days off he likes to sleep in, groaning and complaining any time you try to cut it short to do your morning duties. Once you’re done (after prying yourself from his grip), you climb back into bed, this time spooning him, intertwining your legs together. Pedri loves to feel your soft breaths against his neck, half of the time it will lull him back to sleep.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, paces around the house constantly. Being an athlete, he is used to moving around constantly, which causes him to feel antsy when he’s sitting alone for too long. After coming home from work, you often find him walking around the living room, staring at his phone. He only settles down when he spots you, pulling you in for a welcoming hug.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, doesn’t care much for TV shows, but will watch anything with you as long as you’re cuddling. He tries to pretend he isn’t completely enthralled in whatever you’re watching, but his random outbursts when something stupid happens says all you need to know.

“He did WHAT?” , “Is this a joke?”

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, prefers staying in instead of going out for dates. With him constantly in the public eye, he feels uncomfortable with the invasion of privacy. When he’s having intimate moments with you, he prefers not to have to hide or mellow it down. In the safety of your home, he can kiss you anywhere he pleases without wondering how the media will react. He also just likes to have you all to himself, so being at home gives you all the privacy in the world with no interruptions.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, will do anything for you. If you’re having a bad day, he will pamper you senseless. If you are sick, he will disappear for half an hour and come back with your favorite foods or things to cheer you up. He loves to take care of you. He hates to see you hurting and would do anything to make you feel better.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, is the biggest baby when he’s sick. At first, he’ll act like it doesn’t bother him, but the second you make a concerned face, he’s suddenly so much sicker. He’ll pout and pretend he’s on his death bed till you call out of work to nurse him back to health.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, loves to do anything as long as it’s with you. You want to play board games? He’s already on the way to grab them. You want to go shopping? He’s grabbing the keys. You want to go to the movies? He’s putting on a hoodie. You want to go for a walk? He’s grabbing his sneakers. Anything you want, he will do.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, doesn’t hesitate to clean the dishes after meal times. He’d rather take care of it right away so you don’t have to worry about it later. He’s always on top of things around the house, too. If something needs repaired, he’ll make the calls for you. Your family loves to tease him about how good of a husband he’ll be one day, and you can’t help but agree.

(DT): @halfwayhearted ^_^

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 17.3 - Dating for Weirdos, Take #2

Akira doesn’t know what Alice is going to say about being in relationship. The chances of her answer being “fuck no” is high. After all, he showed up out of nowhere to declare his devotion, confess to stalking, and inform her that her boyfriend would be his boyfriend too.

But gods, he hopes that's not what she says. He hopes she feels even an ounce of what he feels. She's quiet for a moment, nervously twisting her fingers and then:

“Y-yes.”

“Yes?” he repeats. When she nods, he lets out a breath. "Thank fuck. I been fantasizing about kissing you for weeks. So yes to that too?"

“Yeah, if you want to. I mean, you don’t have to if—”

Akira moves like lightning, grabbing her waist and tilting her head back so he can capture her mouth and swallow the rest of her words. Her lips are soft and she makes these small sounds of pleasure that he wants to play on a loop nonstop while he figures out how to get her to make more of them.

Akira tastes magic and he can't tell if its his own seeping in from that first promise, or a thread of something Alice inherited from an ancestor long gone.

He can feel Vlad’s eyes on them, too, which just ramps up the excitement. When Alice cups the side of his head and strokes his ear, it takes everything not to lift her up and wrap her legs around his waist.

"Mercy," he whispers against the seam of her lips. "Mercy or we will end up on that bed and I will embarrass myself."

Alice drops her hand with a soft laugh, but not before she runs her finger along tip of his ear one more time.

"Imp," he teases, and bites her lip.

She pulls back panting, her smile wide but then worry flashes across her face when she looks at Vladislaus. He's staring at them with a combination of curiosity, hunger, and something Akira reads as danger.

"Is he...did I do something wrong?" she stutters.

"No," Akira assures her, stepping between them on instinct.

Something ripples beneath Vlad's skin as he, and whatever creature is inside him, take turns blinking back. He licks his lips. “Are you going to kiss me?” 

Akira stalks towards him, aroused and amused. “That depends. Do you want me to kiss you, or are you trying to start a fight?”

“I don’t know," he replies honestly, letting Akira back him up onto the bed. He swings out, his hand flexing like it might actually have claws but none descend. Akira catches his wrist easily.

"Think about it," he purrs, "You can have a kiss, but you’ll have to play nice for it."

The pulse in Vlad's neck jumps as the air around him grows wilder. “But I’m not nice,” he replies, his voice flat and unnatural.

“I said play,” Akira reminds him. Later, when things were calmer they would need to figure out what Vlad was and how to maneuver around him safely. Akira could survive an accidental maiming, Alice not so much. He grips Vlad's chin, staring down the creature behind his eyes. “I know you know how to play.”

"Play?" Vladislaus repeats the word like he's tasting it for the first time. When Akira presses a thumb into his mouth, he bites it without breaking the skin.

“See?” Akira chuckles, "Playing is better."

The air moves from wild to electric. Vlad is tense until he’s not, the fight slipping out of him as his limbs go loose, and that’s when Akira kisses him.

Kissing Vladislaus is different from kissing Alice. If anything, Akira is more careful. He brushes his lips against Vlad’s mouth, keeping a hand around his neck and then, slowly, tenderly, slips his tongue. Vlad arches into it, the sounds he makes shuttling between desperate and filthy. 

When they finally sit up, there is the barest exchange of magic that Akira again can’t account for.

They don’t quite have a rhythm yet. Alice is shy about climbing onto the bed with them until Vlad apologizes and insists he loves watching her kiss Akira.

"Why did you seem upset?" she asks.

"Not upset," Vlad replies smoothly, and Akira wonders again if he is some kind of fae. "I was just...somewhere else."

For all his spying, Akira is out of the loop on their inside jokes, but he is happy to lie on the bed with them, while they playfully argue about some romance soap opera they both watch.

Eventually, the threat of Alice’s roommate returning forces Vlad and Akira out. By the time Akira meets them on campus the next night for a movie date, he’s already decided they need a house because fuck if he's gonna be slipping out under the cover of dark like he's a teenager.

How he’ll rebuild his magic enough to secure a house is still a mystery. But he’ll figure it out.

“Our movie date is in the student center?” Alice asks, clutching Vlad’s hand as they approach. When she leans her head on his shoulder, Akira's heart stutters.

They are really his. All the effort paid off. He waits to feel less obsessed.

It doesn't happen.

“Pre-movie snack,” he replies followed by a smirk. “Yesterday you said that the mini-cupcakes in the cafeteria were the only thing on the planet worth eating and I aim to please.”

“I mean, it's true," she insists, arching a brow. "Although weirdly, I’m not that hungry."

“Well, I am,” Vlad announces. "I'm starving and its making me disgruntled when I would otherwise be such pleasant company."

It's an oddly true statement, at least for Akira and Alice. Vlad might be a brat but he is surprisingly sanguine around them. Though undoubtedly there's not another being on the planet who would describe him as "pleasant" company.

Maybe his mother.

Alice grabs both of their hands as they walk inside, which Akira takes as a good sign of her comfort.

He enjoys the feeling so much, he doesn’t even mind the crowd of students around them.

But maybe he should have been less comfortable. If he wasn't so head over heels, he would've paid attention to their surroundings. 

He would have intervened, seen the bad omen coming, and stopped it somehow. Instead, he thought about why Wes's chirpy greeting annoyed the shit out of him while Alice's generally sunny disposition made him smile.

He watched, with some interest, as Vlad looked around the room with hunger in his eyes while making no move towards the cafeteria.

And there was no way he would've really known how things were going to turn out anyway. Akira was just an elf and foresight was for fucking oracles.

PREV | NAVIGATION

And thus concludes the first part of my story!

Don't worry, these three lunatics will be back soon for their next adventure. But after months of writing (sometimes in circles), falling in love with characters I never expected, and giving myself grace to let ideas die, I feel like I've finally found my rhythm.

So what's changing?

Well, I'm not gonna light these first 17 chapters on fire. I consider them to be my initial world-building. From here on out, though, I'll be breaking everything into separate mini-stories. Sometimes they'll be long-form, sometimes they'll be captions that feel more like a comic book. Ever since I read This is How You Lose the Time War, I been obsessed with writing a mini-story that's completely epistolary (told through letters and documents and whatnot). I'm getting distracted, lol, but you get the point. The stories will all connect and things that happen in one might influence another, so it'll be more like rotational gameplay.

I think this will help me with the burnout that comes from trying to write one long linear piece. It also means when I fall in love with a set of characters ::cough, cough Akira, Alice, and Vlad cough, cough:: I can just break off write something cool for them. Plus, I'm a whore for lore, so if I'm gonna write about murder in the magic realm, I can completely immerse myself because I'm not also trying to keep a billion other storylines going at the same time.

(Guys, there is 100% a murder in the Magic Realm and you know Jacques Villareal is INVOLVED).

But like how, babe?

Every story will have its own navigation post with the chapters listed, so it's easier to keep track of (yes, it only took me like 10 months to understand Tumblr enough to come up with this solution 😒 lol). And every story will be complete...although complete doesn't mean resolved ::cue evil laughter::

But for real, I hope this means you can jump in at any point and enjoy the ride without having read everything that came before it.

Fine, cool, can you like wrap this up?

Yep. So, I have to update my main navigation, put the final touches on some character posts and finish the new opening credits (Blender hyper-focus paid off, y'all!) but everything is almost ready.

So I hope you'll keep hanging out and join our resident throuple for their next adventure: Monster Date Night. A silly little college ghost hunt, horny coeds, and things that go bump in the night—what could go wrong?

See ya soon 😈