#thanks for all the tunes and for these ones especially

[pomelace]

more than a sip

pairing: jack abbot x afab!resident reader

content warnings: fluff, no physical desciptors used for reader, reader is a resident and has a brother, implied age gap, doesn't take place during the shows timeline, let me know if I missed anything!

magui speaks! : dedicated to @multifandom-2091, thank you for the request, I hope you like it! I struggled a bit as I fell into a small writers slump halfway through, but here it is! writing this made me want to write more for jack, so stay tuned for that. as always, I hope you enjoy and requests are open!

word count: 1473

The rain drums steady on the pavement as you step out into the ambulance bay, the hospital doors hissing shut behind you. The air is thick with the smell of wet dirt and concrete, cool against your skin. You lean back against the wall just beside the doors, eyes half-closed, phone glowing in your hand.

Your fingers tap out a quick message:

Did you eat?? I left pasta in the fridge. Please don’t just eat cereal again. Love you. Be home by 8.

You don’t expect a reply—it’s three in the morning, and no one in their right mind should be awake. But your brother is. Either passed out on the couch with a controller still in his hand, or ignoring your text the same way he ignored you this morning—right after the fight, right before you left for another fifteen-hour shift.

It was a stupid argument—one he started, because he’s a teenager and teenagers are always angry about something. You know the type of anger; you used to wear it like armor too.

You put your parents through the same storm of slammed doors and sharp words. The difference is, they were still around to weather it. You’re all he’s got now.

So you take it—the harsh words, the door slams, the silence that lingers like smoke. You don’t hold it against him. You never do.

Instead, you text him like clockwork, always checking in even when he expects you not to. Especially when he expects you not to.

There’s peace in just standing there, tucked beneath the small overhang by the doors, the rain kept at bay by a strip of shelter overhead. Each drop falls with a soft, steady rhythm, a quiet lullaby against the metal.

As you wait for a response you know isn’t coming, you start to count the droplets you hear.

One, two, three...

“Should I be concerned you’ve taken up loitering?” a voice calls from behind you, low and rough around the edges.

You glance over your shoulder and catch sight of Dr. Abbot stepping out into the damp night, two coffee cups in hand. His dark scrubs are hidden beneath the black hoodie he always wears, hood down.

The lights from inside spill across his face, catching the salt-and-pepper in his hair, making him look tired than usual—almost distant, like he’s not entirely here.

“Loitering implies I’m not on shift,” you murmur, tucking your phone into your scrub pocket.

“I’m just… pretending the air inside doesn’t taste like bleach.”

He hums, taking a sip from his cup before handing you the other one. For you.

“Almond milk and honey,” he says gently, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“How did you—” you start to ask, but he cuts you off before you can thank him.

“You talk out loud when you think no one’s listening.”

Jack notices the little things: how you stir your coffee just so, the gentle, rhythmic motion; how you always avoid sweeteners, opting for just the almond milk and honey; how you don't like dairy, even though it’s practically everywhere.

He watches you for a moment, the corners of his lips turning up slightly as if he’s cataloging every small detail you don’t even realize you’re giving away.

“Careful,” he says, his voice low but teasing, “You’re going to burn your tongue.”

You look up at him, surprised by the sudden attention, but there's something comforting in the way he’s paying so much attention to the smallest things.

You roll your eyes playfully, though it’s hard to keep up the facade when you feel his gaze.

“I’m fine,” you reply, but there's warmth in your voice, a subtle acknowledgment that the smallest things—like this moment, this cup of coffee—mean more than you want to admit.

He shrugs, taking a sip from his own cup, his eyes never leaving you.

“I’m just saying, you might want to take it slow with the ‘hot’ part.”

You smile, the kind that tugs at your heart just a little too much. You know exactly what he’s doing.

He’s not just watching you sip your coffee. He’s seeing you, in all the quiet ways that no one else does.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you say again, this time with more meaning, the weight of the simple gesture settling between you like a shared secret.

“It's nice of you to finally grace the outside world,” you mutter, eyeing him with a smile from the rim of your coffee cup.

“I thought you were glued to the nurse’s station, brooding over charting mistakes and bad coffee.”

“I was,” he says, voice dry.

“Then I realized I hadn’t heard you complain in twenty minutes. Figured something might be wrong.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning against the wall.

“I was going for some peaceful silence, actually.”

He snorts, a small chuckle escaping him.

“That doesn’t suit you.”

A comfortable silence settles between you. Outside, the rain falls in silver sheets, soft and steady. You both sip your coffee, letting the warmth seep into your fingers.

He glances between you, the rain, and the rim of his cup. He doesn’t say anything—just clears his throat, like he wants to speak but hasn’t found the words yet.

You raise an eyebrow, curious. “What?”

He shrugs, eyes still fixed on the window.

“You’ve been quiet lately.”

You start to respond, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

“Don’t you prefer it that way?”

But he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even crack a smile. Instead, he turns to you—really turns to you—and something in his expression shifts. His eyes soften. The teasing falls away.

“I mean it. You’ve been off today. Not talking much, not—”

“Not complaining enough?” you interrupt with a light chuckle, trying to deflect.

But he just shakes his head again, gently.

“No. Seriously. Are you okay?”

You contiplate whether to tell him the truth or not on how you're doing. You look between him and the rim of your steaming cup. You know you can tell him, confide in him, but when is it too much to say?

"You can tell me," he whispers, like he can see straight through you.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze, giving a soft nod.

"I'm okay," you say lightly, almost too casually, like you're brushing it off.

"Just dealing with a lot, like always."

But he doesn't look convinced. He shakes his head, his eyes locking onto yours, unwavering and determined to get through to you.

"I mean it," he insists, his voice low and serious.

"Are you really okay?"

You hesitate for a moment, then offer him a smile — the kind that doesn’t quite reach your eyes but is enough to soften the moment.

"Really, I'm good, Jack," you say, and this time, the smile feels a little more genuine. It’s enough for him to let it go, but he’s still watching you closely.

"Fine," he says, his tone easing but still laced with concern.

"If you say so."

You chuckle softly, the weight of the conversation lifting just a little.

"I’ll come to you when I’m near losing my mind," you tease, half-serious, half-joking. He raises an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’ll be waiting," he says, his voice warm, a promise hidden beneath the words.

You take a deep breath, feeling just a little lighter now. You shift closer to him, your shoulder brushing against his as you both stand in quiet solidarity against the wall, side by side.

"Are you okay?" you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

You don’t look at him, keeping your gaze fixed on the rain as it falls from the sky. The question hangs between you two, and you wait, the silence stretching just long enough to make the moment feel heavier than it really is.

From the corner of your eye, you notice him shift, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yes," he replies softly, his voice steady but gentle.

"Right now, I am," he continues, turning his head just enough to watch you.

Right now, here with you, I am.

The thought catches him off guard, as if it’s been there all along, hiding just beneath the surface.

He doesn’t say it aloud, but something about the weight of the moment shifts, settling into him in a way that makes him feel like he’s been missing something obvious.

He watches you—how your fingers curl around your coffee, how the tip of your nose turns pink from the cold breeze, how your laughter feels like the kind of music that makes everything else fade away.

He drinks in the small details of you, trying to tell himself it’s just casual, just the way things are.

But it doesn’t feel like that anymore, or maybe it never did.

©pomelace 2025

[kittenfangirl20]

Adam smiled, Lucifer was so unlike the people of the Capitol who saw him as an attractive form of entertainment. They decided to go up to the roof. Lucifer must have had someone set up a picnic of Adam’s favorites. With Adam’s keen sense of hearing he could hear the soft buzz of an invisible barrier to keep Tributes from jumping and the whir of fans to give the illusion of a breeze blowing. This fancy new facility was made as a permanent place for Tributes to live in and train in. Before citizens would voluntarily hand over apartments to use and before even that he heard disturbing stories of Tributes being kept in a zoo exhibit that citizens would visit.

Adam: All of this looks so good, I even joked saying if i win I am just going to enjoy all I can and probably get fat.

Lucifer looked over imagining Adam older with a bit of soft and chubby stomach. He was so amazed by how attractive he still found him.

Lucifer: You would still be beautiful.

Adam: Thank you.

They sat down and started to eat.

Adam: What would be the best way to win over the judges to give me a high score and the audience to want them to be my sponsors.

Lucifer: The judges are easy, just show them how ferocious you can be.

Adam: That’s easy, I can show them how I can use a battle axe to chop off someone’s head in one stroke since I heard they have dummies set up in the room to use. And the citizens?

Lucifer: Show how you are so much unlike the other Career Tributes. Show them that kindness, show them you are strong, but that you are also human. The more humanized the Tribute, the more loved they are.

Adam: I can do that.

They leaned close and shared a kiss, it was their first kiss.

Lucifer: You are going to be the only one who knows this, but the arena will be snow. The mutts will be all sorts of animals set up for that climate, ferocious bears that can blend into the snow and the more extreme salamanders the size of small dogs that can set themselves on fire. They will provide you with clothes for the setting and you just need to get supplies to keep yourself warm at the Cornucopia. Just grab a weapon and supplies, don’t stay for the slaughter. The smart ones leave after grabbing something.

Adam: Ok.

Adam must have really impressed the judges because he got a ten out of twelve giving him the highest score that year. The two Tributes from 2 were already getting sponsors because it was a safe bet to bet on a Career. Some of the mentors were confused when Adam asked for a guitar for his interview. It all made sense when Caesar Flickerman asked if he had any talents outside of fighting.

Adam: I can sing, in fact I asked I could have a guitar so I can share a song.

Caesar: Who wants a song.

The cheers said yes, they wanted a song. A guitar was brought out and handed to Adam. He tuned it and plucked a couple cords showing he knew what he was doing. Lucifer stood by his grandfather who had no emotions cross his face. But when the song started, his eyes widened a little in shock. Lucifer swore he was hearing an angel.

Adam: 🎶Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I’ll be safe and sound.🎶

No one expected what happened next, the young Tributes with Lyra in the lead came and sat around Adam as he sang. Even Capitol children who came with their parents joined the little crowd of kids. The Peacekeepers stood by making sure nothing happened to the Capitol children. But it really forced people to see a man just singing to children to comfort them especially since some of them would soon be dead. What Adam wouldn’t know until years later was in District 12, a girl with brown hair in a braid and gray eyes listened intently to him sing and felt comfort from his song. When Adam looked up he was surprised to see that there wasn’t a dry eye in the audience aside from the monstrous President. Adam trembled as he handed the guitar back and the Capitol children were ushered back to their parents. Everything after that was a blur, everyone had their time in the spotlight. Once back to the suite, Lucifer saw a note from Adam saying to come to his room.

Lucifer: Adam, you wanted me.

Adam was still in the dark suit with hints of purple in it. He grabbed Lucifer and pulled him on top of him. Both blushed at how close and intimate this was.

Adam: Make love to me, if for some chance I die, I don’t want to die a virgin. I have wanted you for a while now.

The two shared kisses and held each other. But this was something more intimate that would bind them to each other for the rest of their lives because like Adam, Lucifer was a virgin as well. Lucifer didn’t let his mind dwell on this before he gave Adam an intimate kiss and reached for the buttons of his shirt.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

(Hunger Games AU)

Lucifer was called to the President’s manor and stepped out. Standing outside the manor were the Peacekeepers. He walked in to see his grandfather, Coriolanus, the ruler of Panem waiting for him.

Lucifer: You needed me, grandfather?

Snow: Of course, course of all of my grandchildren you are the one to most likely to succeed me and I want you to learn much of the Districts and ways since you must enforce your will and to keep the Hunger Games going.

Lucifer had to keep himself from flinching. Lucifer was the eldest son of Snow’s eldest daughter. He wanted Lucifer to be the next President even if it went against everything he believed in.

Snow: I am sending you to District 2 to escort the tributes and mentors. The train is waiting for you so you can make it for Reaping Day.

Adam swung his axe as the judges of District 2 watched. District 2 wanted the best Tributes to take part in the Hunger Games. At six and a half feet tall with over 200 pounds of muscle, they wanted Adam to be the one to volunteer at the age of eighteen. The other person picked from District 2 to volunteer was Lilith. Lilith got close to Adam so only he could hear her.

Lilith: Once we get into the arena I am going to enjoy killing you.

Adam decided to ignore her and he went to his home so he could have one night left with his family before going to what could be his death. Sera had made his favorite meal and she couldn’t keep herself from crying.

Sera: Please, do everything in your power to win. I don’t care about the home in the Victor’s Village or the benefits the winning District gets for a year, I just want my son to come back.

Adam: I promise mom.

Afterwards, Emily took Adam to her room so she could pierce his left ear so the earring could be his Tribute Token. The token was a gold hoop earring with a purple stone on it since purple was the color of District 2. Emily put the other earring like his in her left ear. The next the stage was set up with the District 2 Victors from past games. Standing at the podium was a handsome blonde man about Adam’s age in a white and red suit.

Lucifer: I am Lucifer Morningstar, I am here to reap the Tributes for the 64th Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor.

Lucifer walked to the large orbs with the scraps of paper with names of girls of District 2 between the ages 12 to 18. Before he could pull out a name, Lilith stepped up.

Lilith: I volunteer as tribute.

Lilith got onto the stage.

Lucifer: May I have your name?

Lilith: Lilith Magne.

Lucifer: Now we must find the man who will join you.

Adam: I volunteer as tribute.

Lucifer felt himself blush at the handsome man who walked onto the stage.

Lucifer: And what is your name?

Adam: Adam Kadmon.

Lucifer: After you talk with your family one last time, you will be escorted to the train that will take you to the Capitol.

Adam nodded, he knows this guy is like the future President in training, but he was kinda cute. Very cute.

But he had bigger things to worry about than getting his rocks off with some hot twink. He hugged his mom and sister so tight making one last promise to win, not just for his life and district but for them.

He didn't want to let them go but soon he had to go and get on the train to go to the capital.

Adam grabbed his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder and got on the train. When he was in his room there at least he had a nice view.

Not many people get to see this view and even fewer get to see it on the way back.

The Hunger Games are a sick and twisted thing, something Adam wished didn't exist.

Knocking on his door brought him out of his gazing..

Lucifer: Hey, how are you doing?

[parasitescholar]

Weekly Recommendation: They Might Be Giants (the band)

Hello there! My queue ran out and I didn't realize....... it has been a month..... I sorry............

Anyway! This one is near and dear to me. Also gonna be full of links so warning ya now. They Might Be Giants was my first albumn, my first band, the first way I bonded with my dad as an adult and a person, and not as a parent. I had a CD player and borrowed CDs, a few burned with sharpie to label them, a few with the original inserts and all. This is the official playlist of some of my favorites, though it's not all of the songs I love (none of the kids songs on here, and Here Come Science slaps. There's an entire animated version of the album I watched over and over on dvd.)

I feel like I'm less qualified to talk about music than other media, because I don't play any instruments. After switching from the piano teacher I liked to an old witch (I assume she had magic. Mostly I remember her for the painful singing. Please let me do that you are not good at it miss.) I quit. Though I can mimic tunes well, I lost the ability to read music quickly. But I can tell you about this band and my history with it. So this is maybe the only music recommendation you're gonna get. But it will be very long, and I guarantee you will like 1 song of theirs.

This is because of the sheer amount of genres TMBG manages to cover. This bop about the sun is immediately followed by the correction in a ballad correcting it's wrongs. Though they tend to follow alt rock and ska sentiments (like this song my dad sang every time he made bacon) They have love songs, rap, and total nonsense. More than anything they like to experiment with sound. Lyrics are nice, but words are also just noise, and if it sounds good it doesn't need to make sense. Fingertips is one long song or 21 very short songs, things that could have been part of something bigger, but never made it to that stage. That said, they have some songs with actual deep themes. (And also one about underwater cows)

I feel like my playlists shows the albums I grew up with: Flood, Apollo 18, and Mink Car. Those were the songs I played over and over on my cd player, that I choreographed stupid dances too (Oh god cringe) that I thought about making LPS music videos of (oh god even more cringe) Before I turned 21, TMBG played in my city, but it was at a bar, and I couldn't go. My dad called halfway through the concert, and put on speakerphone so I could hear a distorted version of half a song. This year, I got to go to the concert for real, though only after it got cancelled three years in a row. (Covid, covid again, then a car crash yikes. Everyone lived luckily) Luckily, they played Flood, the actual first album out of the ones I had. It was really cool. Give their music a listen, find some funky tunes with lots of horns (The live horns were very good) and tell me your favorite nonsense. This is a bit unhinged but I can't really describe why I like music. It makes me bob my head, and sometimes think deeply, and sometimes fall asleep. It means childhood, it means car rides with my dad, it means standing for way too long but enjoying it anyway.

See you next week if I don't forget again. <3

[epicdogymoment]

twisting ft. @miodiodavinci's SALVADOR Auto Recovery

credits under the cut

original, instrumental by They Might Be Giants

UST, tuning, mix, art by @epicdogymoment

[enigma020]

Once I finally get a digital pen to properly draw with the iPad my parents gave me, I’ll start practicing digital arts.

In the meantime, have this one digital sketch of my character development. I’ll make the most enjoying the most out of traditional arts until the digital pen arrives :)

[thelastresortofgoodmen]

i may just start over..,

[unluckiestmember]

YAY, YOU'RE BACK TO WRITING FOR ARCANE. How would the arcane characters react (mainly vi, ekko, and jinx because i would marry, marry, and marry them all!!) to a reader who is sooo affectionate and finds every last thing they do so cute they get cuteness aggression and just jump at them like a cuddle bug often? thank you so much!!

Coming right up!

Arcane x Cuddle Bug! Reader

Characters: Powder/Jinx, Violet "Vi", Ekko, Caitlyn Kiramman, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Mel Medarda, Sevika and Ran.

Warning: None really. SFW.

A/N: Am I the only one who wants to snuggle into Caitlyn? Ugh, I love her so much.

Powder/Jinx

“Oh! Hey there, sugar! You want to cuddle? Don’t have to ask me twice! I’ll cuddle you so much that you get tired of me! But you’d never get tired of me, right?”

Jinx is a super clingy person, so for you to be as clingy as her it’s like you two are a match made in heaven. There’s barely any time that passes when you two are not touching each other and she lives for your cuddles. It doesn’t matter if you hug her out of nowhere or she sees you about to embrace her, she is stopping everything she is doing and pulling you into the tightest of hugs.

Most of the time if she isn’t causing mayhem in the streets of Zaun or busy with her inventions, she will spend her time just holding you so close and showering your face with the cutest but most childish of kisses. She doesn’t care if it’s in private or public, she will make it known that you two can’t keep your hands off each other. You are her cuddlebug and she is yours and that won’t ever change.

Violet “Vi”

“Woah there, cuddle bug! You’re gonna make me screw up my workout… Oh forget it. How can I say no to you?”

Because Violet is absolutely touch starved, she will never decline your cuddles, even if you take her by surprise a few times with how you hug her so suddenly. She finds it adorable how you fangirl around her and find everything she does to be awesome or cute. Granted she does wish you’d call her hot or sexy, but knows that isn’t really in tune with your personality.

Regardless, she tries to make sure you know how adorable you are, always telling you while you two are cuddled up together how lucky she is to have you and how you are so adorable. Even when you visit her at work, she’ll try to drop everything and have you run into her arms to pick you up. And every time she’s got time off work or is coming back from a job, she’s automatically looking for you so she could hook you in her arms and never let go.

Ekko

“Y/N, haha! You know we gotta keep this private, babe- The kids are gonna pounce on us any second now!”

Does Ekko love hugging you? Absolutely. The warmth of your arms around his body makes him stop everything he’s doing and just hug you while calling you his firelight or firefly. Unless he’s calling you an angel or lovebug, which never fails to make Scar either look at you two in awe or roll their eyes in mock annoyance. Unfortunately, Ekko does try his best to make sure you two don’t get super affectionate around the children, especially when it comes to hugs.

Why? Because as soon as you hug him, the children find this as an invitation to gather around him and have him nearly die under a cuteness overload of a group hug. It’s nice as a once in a while occurrence, but all the time? Maybe not. Outside of the reactions you two garnish and even the teasing of you being the firelight king/queen, Ekko lives for your cuddlebug energy, wanting to be in your arms after a long day’s work. It’s always the best way to end the night… 

Caitlyn Kiramman

“And that’s why if I am able to block this end of the road, I’ll- Oh!... Oh come here, sweetheart. If you wanted to cuddle so badly, you could’ve asked.”

Caitlyn has always been someone who was more subtle with her love, pulling you into brief kisses, cupping your cheek and holding you by your waist. She usually leaves the more out there gestures like hugging and cuddling for you to initiate. But when you do? It might be harder for you to get her off of you instead of the other way around. It can be at work, in her home, outside of work or at an event. As soon as she feels your arms wrap around her slender body, she’s stopping for a second to hold you back and kiss your forehead.

She will continue working if you interrupt her during a briefing or in the middle of cracking a case, but the entire time, she will have at least one arm around your body and make sure you are comfortable. Her comrades tease her about it and she’ll scowl a bit, but she doesn’t care. As far as she can tell, she’s extremely lucky to have you as a lover.

Viktor

“Ah! Oh, it is just you, zolotse. Remember, you have to warn me of these cute little hugs of yours.”

At first, Viktor wasn’t used to your physical affection and how you were in awe of everything he did. He actually thought you were mocking him at first or being silly. But after a while, especially when the two of you became a couple, he grew accustomed to your affections. He does get a bit startled when you hug him out of nowhere and he does have moments where you cheering him on does make him a bit bashful, but he enjoys your sweet gestures regardless.

He does find it difficult to be as outgoing with his love for you as you are with him, but he does try his best to make you realize he loves you, especially in the form of quality time and calling you by sweet pet names bound to make you blush. Viktor has a tendency to pass out from working too hard and waking up in your arms. And though he’d never say it out loud, you know based on the way he snuggles into you, he adores it and adores you.

Jayce Talis

“I know what you want and I want it too- So bring it in! I’ve waited all day to be in your arms!”

Because Jayce is always out at work, it’s kind of hard for you two to be around one another all the time. That’s why when he does reunite with you after hours or you two can be together on days off, he’s spending the majority of his free time with you or wrapped around you. He sort of craves for your praise and compliments as much as he craves your cuddles.

Many would compare the councilman to a needy dog wanting his owner’s undivided attention and he definitely gets that through you. Though he may try to act all cool or play coy, everyone knows that you mean so much to him and that he becomes putty around you. Even if they don’t, you’re not afraid to say it aloud. Just make sure Jayce isn’t around or that man will become redder than a beet.

Mel Medarda

“What’s wrong?... I know that look. You want to- Ah! Well looks like you beat me to the punch, darling. How about we take this to the bed, hmm?”

Mel wasn’t really given physical affection when she was younger. She was more someone who preferred verbal affection with words of affirmation. So when it came to you and how affectionate you are, she found herself adapting and loving physical affection as much as telling you how much she loved you.

Your cuddles and sweet gestures are her personal heaven she loves returning to after a long day’s work, especially if she can spend an evening with you platonically in your shared bed. In your arms, she feels she can air out anything that’s bothering her or interests her, especially when you admit how cute it is when she does. Though this kind of intimate affection is delegated to private quarters, anyone can know from the way Mel speaks of you outside of home and at events that you mean so much to her.

Sevika

“Yeah! So then I was like screw you, I can do whatever- Hold on. Uh, Y/N. I thought we agreed to not do this at work?”

Sevika is considered the Right Hand of Zaun, a woman who is feared if not respected by her peers. And she’d like to keep it that way. Which means that while you two are at work, she prefers it if you don’t cuddle her around co-workers and give them something to tease her about. You two can only flirt and kiss and even then, it has to be sexy…

But alone, when both of you are away from the public eye, Sevika is at your beck and call wishing for nothing else but to hear your sweet praises and melt into your arms and touch. Expect her to call you the cutest thing ever and tease you on occasion, but afterwards she’s basically a big needy cat, or as she prefers to be called, a panther. It’s moments like these where you can really consider yourself lucky to see a raw side of Sevika. And it was only preserved for you.

If you got any requests for Arcane or X-Men '97, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[mrsmandalorian]

short n' sweet tour

--pedro pascal x singer!f!reader

summary: on the debut night of your arena tour, you pull out all the cheeky tricks to grab Pedro's attention while the crowd goes wild.-this fic features a tiny bit of 'Bed Chem" and the whole song of 'Juno" by Sabrina Carpenter !!

lyrical genius masterlist / main masterlist / wc:4.9K

warnings: 18+ mdni, reader is able-bodied, smut!!!, and fluff!, p in v, hard and quick FUCK, sexual TEASING, pet names, pillow humping, dry humping, wandering hands, makeout.

a/n: the next part is finally here! thank you for all the love on this series. hope you guys enjoy this part! pls leave some feedback and let me know what you guys might be interested in seeing in the future! much love, maddie <3

The electricity from the crowd vibrates backstage as you nervously wait for your cue to run onstage. All the hard work throughout your career has led to this moment—the first concert of your North American leg of the arena tour. It started in  Staples Center in Los Angeles and concludes in Sweden next year. 

The pre-show recording starts as your team quickly helps you with your earpiece and offers words of encouragement. Take a few deep breaths to calm your nerves as you hear the team start a countdown to your entrance over the earpiece. 

“Three, two, one-go, go!” the stage manager says from behind you.

As the crowd roars, you dash onto the elaborate stage to begin the show with one of your many comedy bits, acting as if you are half-ready for the show to start, still in your sequined bath towel. You finally end up center stage to find your microphone and strip from your fake towel to a custom sparkling bodysuit with sheer sparkling tights, which causes an uproar from your fans. 

Looking into the sea of people and phones, you give your best smile and take the moment as best as possible. The tune of your first song starts as your dancers slowly come out to join you on stage. It was showtime. 

The crowd was whole of thousands of fans and familiar faces from family, friends, and celebrities. The cheers and joy in the room made all the struggles and hard work behind the music worthwhile. The impact your music has on people truly makes it all significant. You released your album, and it was a fantastic experience; it topped the charts for weeks and went viral on social media. It has undoubtedly been the best year of your life. Your career has already taken off, but the overwhelming success you've experienced in the last six months has been remarkable in more ways than one.

Your nerves disappear as you sing through the setlist and entertain your fans with your cheeky comedy bits and lovable personality. Your setlist consists of songs from your new album, older hits and gems, and karaoke from your favorite artists. Much like your most recent singles, your latest album is very sex-positive and cheeky, which sets your performance to the same tone. You were expecting a good reaction from the crowd, especially someone. 

After a few songs and the addition of a sheer robe, it was finally time for one of your more sexual songs off your album, Bed Chem, which had a very sensual tone of dance to it. The lights dim as you get into position on a retro circular bed part of your elaborate makeshift apartment stage. You position yourself seductively in the middle as you stare up at the camera above you, which will project onto the large screens for the audience. 

The song starts as you twirl your hair with a massive smirk. As you go through the first few lyrics on the set bed all by yourself, you can't help but imagine your bed chemistry with your lover, Pedro, which causes you to blush heavily. 

Your imagination halts as your dancers join you on the bed to continue the song and choreography. The canopy opens to the audience, but you have been so caught up in your performance that you haven't taken a second to look at those chocolate eyes in the audience. 

As you continue the song sensually and playfully, you are met at the edge of the bed with your dancers. Staring into the crowd to find his eyes, you meet them with a large smirk, holding them as you sing the following few lines. 

“And I bet we'd both arrive at the same time (bed chem)

And I bet the thermostat's set at six-nine (bed chem)

And I bet it's even better than in my head (my, ooh).”

Your gazes hold until you give him a wink, which earns you a smirk and wink back from him. The tension between you and him burned hotter than the stage lights, igniting every inch of you—even in a room packed with thousands. You were so smitten with him as you continued your choreography with your female dancers. 

During the song's outro, the ladies leave you to dance with the guys as you kneel on the bed. One of the male dancers joins you, holding a camcorder that projects onto the screens, and he joins you on the bed. Playfully actingout a scene with him until the canopy curtain closes and your reflections show you both undress and embrace onto the bed as the lights dim to darkness. 

After the song ends, the crowd erupts, and you run backstage for your first outfit. As you change, one of your few mini videos and dancers entertain the audience. Touching up your makeup and dabbing the sweat from your brow, you quickly grab your phone to send Pedro a selfie of you winking and making a kissy face: “All for you, baby.” 

The concert flows on—another outfit change, playful banter, and electrifying moments with the crowd—all in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the thoughts of your irresistibly fine man. After an intensely emotional song, your setlist picks back up with cheerful, fun music that has gone viral for your whole tour. You walk yourself down in your long, custom, sexy dress down the catwalk of the stage as you talk with the crowd. You compliment and express your gratitude to your fans as you prepare for the next song. Before the song, your team and you have been doing a comedy bit before to give the spotlight to a fan. 

You complimented the crowd on their fabulous outfits, which you knew took them a while to pick out or make. The best part of the bit happened once your dancers joined you just off the main stage onto the catwalk. 

“Oh my, everyone, look! Who is this hottie in the front row right here?” You let out a shocked expression as you fan your face dramatically. The camera for the large screens directs the camera to the person you are referring to, who happens to be Lux Pascal. The crowd goes wild as Lux starts to blush. “ You are breathtaking! Whoever made you, God bless them. God bless their genetics.” You joke with her as you twist your hair in a fake, flirtatious way. “Um, what's your name, gorgeous?” 

The camera pans back to Lux, where she plays her part and screams, “Lux!” to you. You both laugh together. “Such a beautiful name! Our names would be perfect for us to be in a relationship together. Oh my god! My clothes just fell off thinking about us. I will have to arrest you for being too hot!” You say as your long skirt falls to reveal your shorter skirt underneath. A brief glimpse of Pedro standing beside his sisters and your friends sends the arena into a deafening uproar, the sheer volume making you giggle into the microphone.

Your dancer hands you a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs, which you give to the security guard with a wink and blow a kiss to Lux before you start to get into position for the next song, which the intro has begun. 

The dancer brought a chair for you to sit in between them to start the song. They all still wave and send Lux flirtatious signals as part of the bit. The music begins, which causes you to smirk because of the context. 

“Don't have to tell your hot ass a thing

Oh yeah, you just get it (get it)

Whole package, babe, I like the way You don'tt

God bless your dad's genetics, mm, uh”

You promise yourself just one glance. Flashing him your brightest grin, your eyes meet him—and the instant connection sends a deep blush rushing to your cheeks. It remains on your face throughout the song as you continue to sing. 

“You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah

Wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs?

Oh, I hear you knockin', baby, come on up”

“I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love (Oh)”

Your blush never fades as you pour yourself into the sultry song about your lover, every lyric a teasing confession. Your movements are sensual and playful, and the choreography pulls the audience deeper into your world. They sing along to every word, their energy electrifying, reminding you that moments like this make it all worth it.

“I showed my friends, then we high-fived (Ah-ah)

Sorry if you feel objеctified (Ah-ah)

Can't help myself; hormonеs are high

Give me more than just some butterflies”

You quickly make your way down the catwalk as you sing and dance, smiling at the sea of people around. You get right to the tip of the heart at the end of the stage and give your cheekiest smile. 

“You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah

Wanna try out some freaky positions?

Have you ever tried this one?”

As the lyrics leave your lips, you drop to your hands and knees at the center of the heart-shaped stage, rocking your hips in a slow, sensual tease. With a playful bite of your lip and a cheeky wink to the crowd, the message is crystal clear. The arena erupts at the bold display, but you’re already back on your feet, slipping seamlessly into the next move. The cameras cut to Pedro—his head shaking, a knowing smile on his lips as he chuckles with your friends. The stage slowly rises above the crowd as you continue to sing. 

I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love

“Alright, LA, sing this next part with me at the top of your lungs!” you exclaimed to the crowd, shimmering in the air. “Let me hear every single one of you!” You seamlessly kneel and place your hand on your chest as you sing the bridge. 

“Adore me

Hold me and explore me

Mark your territory (Ah-ah)

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one (Ah-ah)

Adore me

Hold me and explore me (Ah-ah)

I'm so fuckin' horny

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one”

Behind you, the screen flashes the song’s lyrics in bold, glowing letters, each word pulsing with the rhythm. As you reach the bridge, your mind drifts—those lyrics, once just melodies, now feel like a private confession, each line a tantalizing reminder of your lover. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but you keep singing, letting the emotion seep into every note.

“(Oh, I) I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might (Might)

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love”

The concert rolls on for a few more songs, each moment more electrifying than the last. A hint of sadness creeps in as the night nears its end, but the thrill of an unforgettable show lingers. Still, excitement bubbles within you—soon, you’ll be backstage, ready to celebrate a night that was nothing short of magic.

“LA, this has been the most unforgettable night of my life. My first big tour, my first night, and I got to spend it with you. I can’t even put into words how much this means to me—how much you mean to me. Thank you for believing in me, for screaming with me, and for making this dream a reality. I’ll never forget this night… unless the adrenaline wears off and I completely black out. But seriously, I love you all more than words can say. Thank you for everything!” You express your gratitude, trying not to get too emotional about the overwhelming feeling. You gently wipe your few happy tears from your face.

You blow kisses and wave as you gracefully go backstage with your dancers. Your team is waiting for you to help take your earpiece out and celebrate with you. They all give you compliments and congratulations. If there is any criticism, they will let you know tomorrow. 

After returning to the greenroom, the energy from the performance is still buzzing through your veins, and your friends and family pour in from the audience. Laughter and praise fill the space as they hug you and gush about their favorite moments of the show. Their words warm your heart, but before you can respond to them all, a familiar touch sends a shiver up your spine.  

Strong, warm hands settle on your hips, grounding you instantly. You turn swiftly, already knowing who they belong to, and are met with Pedro’s soft, adoring smile. Before you can say a word, he pulls you into his embrace, his scent wrapping around you like a comforting haze.  

“You were incredible, baby,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with pride. His hands trail down the fabric of your outfit, savoring the texture beneath his fingertips. The simple gesture sends a wave of goosebumps across your skin, and you can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch.  

Still basking in the moment, you slowly pull away just enough to meet his gaze, your voice warm with gratitude. “Thank you,” you whisper, the connection lingering between you.  

With his presence still humming through you, you turn back to your loved ones, laughter, and conversation effortlessly filling the space once more.

As the last of your friends and family trickle out of the arena, heading off to prepare for a celebratory late dinner, you stay behind in your dressing room, savoring the moment. Pedro remains by your side, a comforting presence as you decompress from the night. The air between you crackles with unspoken energy, and it’s clear you both can’t keep your hands to yourselves.

“You were quite the tease during your set, angel,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. His warmth envelops you as you sit on the small couch, his hands exploring your body with a playful familiarity. You giggle at his words, nodding in agreement, the tension between you both palpable.

“You knew exactly what you were doing to me,” he adds, his fingers dancing along your waist, drawing you closer. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that sends your heart racing. “I’d love to see your stage set.”

A rush of excitement floods through you, your smile growing as you meet his gaze. “I’d love to show you,” you say, your voice soft but laced with promise. Taking his hand, you lead him toward the stage door, the lingering buzz of the night still thick in the air. A few crew members move about, cleaning up and prepping for tomorrow’s show, but your focus is entirely on him.

Waltzing onto the stage, you gesture to the elaborate setup, walking him through the details as you chat about your performance. His hands never leave you, fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin as he listens intently, slipping in jokes that send both of you into laughter.

But as you near the infamous round-shaped bed at center stage, warmth floods your cheeks. His smirk deepens. “You looked blissful the whole night,” he murmurs, his voice a low hum against your skin. “But there were two moments you looked absolutely delectable.”

His lips brush your neck, trailing soft, lingering kisses that send a shiver through you. A nervous giggle escapes as you instinctively tilt your head, granting him more access. Slowly, he eases you back onto the bed, his touch growing more assured, guiding you into surrender.

That’s what you do—surrender to him. It had been weeks since your schedules aligned, since you’d had a moment like this, and you weren’t about to waste it. You let him take control, guiding your body with ease, his fingers threading through your hair as his lips capture yours in a slow, lingering kiss.

A soft whimper escapes as he presses closer, his hands trailing down the front of your body, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “You were such a tease tonight, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and thick with amusement. His grip tightens around your thigh as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The warmth of his body and how he moves against you sends a shiver through you, the anticipation crackling between you like electricity. “I think you might have been trying to get a reaction out of me.”

His hips dip into yours as you feel his warmth glide against yours, which causes you to squeeze your legs around me. His hands wander down to your bum, and he holds you close for a moment. With one swift movement, he flips you and positions you on top of him. Gripping your ass before giving a quick slap against your behind, which causes you to let out a yelp. You bury your head into his chest because you are embarrassed by being too loud and getting caught.

He gives you two more slaps that make you whimper against him and cause him to snicker. “Two can play the game, love,” he says as he grips your hips and pushes you against his clothed member. You buck your hips to create some friction between the two of you, which makes you let out the slightest whimper in need. His hand remains on your hips as you throw your head back as you let yourself hump him against him. He enables you to ride him as his hands roam towards your breast and knead them roughly, which causes a noise of frustration to erupt out of you. The slickness in your panties makes your determined hips work furiously against his hardened member. 

You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t notice Pedro’s smirk, the glint of mischief in his eyes. He had a plan—one carefully crafted to make you pay for every playful tease, every bold move you pulled on stage.

Your breath hitched as his hands moved with deliberate slowness, his touch both gentle and commanding. “You had your fun tonight,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Now it’s my turn.”

With a wicked smirk, he tightens his grip for just a moment before effortlessly sliding you off his lap, the loss of his warmth sending a desperate ache through your body. His hands linger—slow, deliberate—tracing over your skin as if memorizing every inch of you. Then, just as your breath catches in anticipation, he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. It’s tender, almost reverent, yet it only leaves you craving more.

As he rises, his gaze locks onto yours, dark with satisfaction, knowing exactly what he’s done. Without another word, he strides off the stage, vanishing into the shadows, leaving you there—breathless, flushed, and utterly undone, your body still humming with the need only he can satisfy.

For a moment, you lay there, catching your breath, your mind racing. You wouldn’t let this old dog win—not yet. Your teasing wasn’t over. But damn him, he’d left behind something deeper than just a game. The ache he ignited wasn’t one to be toyed with; it demanded more than just playful taunts. It needed to be answered.

Your body still burned from his touch, every nerve alive with the memory of him. You could still feel the ghost of his lips on your skin, the soft press of his kiss on the top of your head—a contradiction of tenderness and control that made your pulse quicken.

No, this wasn’t over. But first, you had to deal with the fire he’d so effortlessly set ablaze.

And that’s just what you start to do. 

Slowly, you push yourself up, your body still humming with the aftershocks of his touch. A quick glance around confirms what you already suspected—the crew has cleared out for the evening, leaving the stage bathed in dim, moody light, the perfect setting for what you’re about to do.  

A wicked smirk tugs at your lips as anticipation curls low in your stomach. If he thought he could leave you like this, aching and undone, he had another thing coming. This wasn’t just about need; it was about control and claiming the upper hand. And what better way than here, on his stage, where every move was meant to captivate an audience?  

Especially when that audience was him.  

With a slow, deliberate breath, you step back onto the fluffy pillow-covered bed, already imagining the look on his face when he realizes just what kind of show you’re about to put on.

You glance across the bed, your eyes drifting over the pleasurable options laid before you, each a temptation, a promise. The sight alone tugs you back to past nights, to the moments when distance kept you apart but never truly separated. You’ve performed this wicked little act for him before, in the privacy of your own home, a sinful display meant only for his eyes—his voice in your ear, coaxing, commanding, praising.

But tonight, it’s different. Tonight, this is your stage. Your domain.

The empty venue hums with silence, the stage lights casting a soft glow, illuminating the space where you captivate crowds with every note you sing. But now, there’s only one audience member you care about. He thinks he’s won, leaving you breathless and aching, but you smirk to yourself—this game is far from over. 

Your hands find the subject to your pleasure, which happens to be the firmest and fluffiest pillow on the bed. You mount the pillow as you had just previously mounted your lover. Your determined hips start at work again, creating your own friction against the softness of the pillow against your soaked panties. You couldn't hold back your soft moans as you rode in a familiar rhythm. 

Caught up in your own pleasure, you barely registered the weight of unseen eyes on you—though deep down, you felt it. That familiar heat, that electric prickle along your skin, warning you that you weren’t alone. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore.  

The game, the teasing, the push and pull—it all faded into something raw, something uncontrollable. You weren’t performing anymore. This wasn’t for show. This was need, pure and aching, a fire burning too hot to be tamed.  

Your breath hitched, your body surrendering to the moment, lost in sensation, in the hunger that refused to be ignored. And somewhere, hidden in the shadows, he watched. Silent. Waiting. Taking in every movement, every sound, every unguarded moment of you unraveling before him.

Before you knew it, rough, familiar hands were on you—firm, possessive, claiming what had always been his. A sharp gasp slipped from your lips, quickly followed by a frustrated groan. You had been so close, teetering on the edge, almost lost in your own pleasure, only to have him interrupt just as you were about to tip over.

But even through the frustration, you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

His touch and presence were precisely what you had been craving all along. The heat of his body pressed against yours, the unmistakable dominance in his grip, the way his breath fanned hot against your skin. He had been watching, waiting, letting you think you had control. But now, he was done watching.

His lips ghosted along the shell of your ear, his voice dark and dripping with satisfaction. "Did you really think I'd let you finish without me?" His fingers tightened, his body caging you in, making it clear—you weren’t going anywhere. "You put on quite the show, sweetheart… but now, it’s my turn."

Hands worked quickly, rough and unyielding, as he maneuvered you with ease—his strength undeniable, his intent unmistakable. Before you could catch your breath, you found yourself in the position you had so proudly displayed in your performance tonight, the one meant to tease, torment, and tempt him beyond reason.  

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest, his grip firm as he held you there, ensuring you understood exactly what would happen. His lips barely grazed your skin, his breath hot and taunting. "You wanted my attention, didn’t you?" he murmured, his voice laced with hunger. "Now you have it. Let’s see if you can handle what you’ve been begging for."

His boldness caught you off guard as you felt your slickness become bare, and the sound of pants unzipping rang through your ears. Before you knew it, his thickness probed at your walls, determined to finish what you both had started. His fingers make quick work to find your bundle of nerves, forcing you to moan deeply into the pillows. 

His hands gripped your hips firmly, but his eyes flickered to the pillow beneath you—still damp with your wetness, carrying the intoxicating scent of your need. The sight of it, the evidence of just how lost you had been in your own pleasure before he caught you, sent a dark, satisfied smirk across his lips.

"Look at this," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as his fingers ghosted over the damp fabric. "You were really putting on a show for me, weren’t you?"

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as his hands worked quickly, positioning you exactly how you had so boldly displayed yourself during your performance. "But now that I’m here," he continued, voice dripping with wicked promise, "let’s see if you can handle what you were begging for."

His promise was quickly answered as his hips brutally thrust into trying to relieve his ache of desire as well as yours. All at once, his thrust and fingers worked you up to mold effortlessly beneath his movements. You were moaning and gripping onto the fuzzy bed before you knew it. You heard his groans as you both were about to finish in sync. There was no more game at play, so you relinquished it and rode out your high together as he moaned heavily into your ear. His heavy moans are replaced with deep gasps from exhaustion, which match yours, and an adoring smirk on both of your faces. 

"I guess this means the war is over," you murmur, your breath still uneven as he eases away gently, cleaning himself off with slow, deliberate movements.

He exhales a quiet chuckle, his smirk softened but still present. "Maybe," he muses, casting you a knowing glance. "Or maybe we just found a new way to fight."

His fingers trail over your skin one last time before he leans back, watching you with the kind of satisfaction that promises—truce or not—this was far from the end.

In quick motion, he finds your discarded panties, using them to clean the two of you the best for the situation. He leaves kisses down your body as he does so, being the gentle lover again. He might fuck hard, but he is always a gentleman in the end (literally). 

The two of you return to your dressing room, the air still warm with the remnants of what just transpired. There’s a quiet intimacy in how he lingers, watching as you slip into something more comfortable, his hands occasionally brushing against you in small, affectionate gestures.  

You take a moment to clean up, smooth your hair, and touch up your makeup while he stands behind you, his presence steady and familiar. Every now and then, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, a silent reminder of just how deeply he adores you.  

Falling into your usual rhythm, the playful teasing and gentle touches return, the two of you wrapped in the sweet comfort of each other. As he helps you fasten a necklace, his fingers grazing your skin, he meets your gaze in the mirror, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Ready, beautiful?"

With one last glance at yourselves, you take his hand, feeling nothing but warmth as you step out together, heading off to meet your loved ones for a late dinner—still lost in the afterglow of the night and of each other.  

As you settle into the car, the city lights flickering past the windows, he suddenly turns to you with a smirk, his tone light and teasing. “I do have a question: why are all the songs you write about me pertaining to  sex?” 

You roll your eyes, laughing as you shove his arm playfully. "Oh, shut up and drive." 

His chuckle fills the space between you, the perfect sound to end a perfect night.

[zhongtea]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ tight fit ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

— ft. alhaitham, diluc, wriothesley, zhongli

synopsis — taking them can be quite the challenge, but the reward is always worth it in the end; 2.4k words.

— minors do not interact! unprotected sex. size kink. oral in zhongli’s. use of pet names. fem!reader.

— alhaitham 𝜗𝜚

“it’s too much, ‘haitham…”

alhaitham has always picked up on your little habits, especially the ones pertaining to the bedroom. one such habit is you always crying about how he’s just too big for you to take. and naturally, he’s figured out a way to overcome this thanks to your predictability.

“nonsense,” he says and pushes himself further in. you whine again, just like he knew you would. “you manage to take me every time without fail, no matter how much you always whine about it.”

his tone is flat but raspy. he’s calculating every move, making sure to press inside just enough but not too much at once. he’s big and he knows — maybe he’s a little too aware of this — and you’re grateful he takes his time despite the way you lack the patience to wait.

“i don’t whine,” you pout. there’s a ghost of a smirk on his face. it’s gone just as quick as it appears but you catch it nonetheless.

alhaitham is adept at proving you wrong, because when his cock inches deeper into your sodden cunt you let out a sound that could only be described as a whine. he ignores the small glare you give in favor of pressing the pad of his thumb into your clit. he smooths circles over it and your cunt reacts appreciatively, allowing him in just a bit more.

“i always make sure to fill you up just right, don’t i?”

you whimper at the stretch; you’re so full, already feeling at your limit and he’s just barely halfway in. “yes.”

“you know i’ll always take care of you.” he keeps showing affection to your clit to open you up for him more while his free hand roams your body. alhaitham is a man of details, and he’s always so well tuned to you and your body.

you’re being flipped before you can even process the change of positions. alhaitham steadies you with a firm grip to your hips before he’s thumbing at your clit again. when you look at him in question, he offers you a small smile.

“there, this might be better for you.” he’s pulling at your hips, just enough for you to get the idea. he sucks in a breath as he watches you lower yourself down on him slowly, adoring the way your cunt swallows him inch by inch. the descent is agonizingly slow and he’s fighting the urge to buck up into you, but he’s careful to allow you your time, your own pace.

you’re steadying yourself with your hands on his chest, the muscles taut under your touch. you take a bit more and cry out in bliss at the fullness, that blissful stretch that you can’t help but find addicting. “so full, ‘haitham. it feels so good.”

alhaitham hums just as you allow gravity to take over, fully sheathing his cock inside until every inch of space inside you is crowded by him. you’re quivering and you’re dripping all over him, cunt crying at the pleasurable stretch it’s taken on to accommodate his size. you’re so very tight around him that he feels insane. no matter how much he fucks you on his cock, he’ll never get over just how good you are for him.

“it’s always the same outcome, and yet i am amazed every time at how well you fit around me. if i didn’t know any better, I might think you were made for me.”

— diluc 𝜗𝜚

everything is burning red — the heat between your thighs, the searing blush on your cheeks, and the mane of hair that cascades around you. and even the eyes that bore into you share the same fiery hue, alight with passion and desire and love. diluc’s hips twitch and the tip of his cock sinks just a bit further into you, and he groans at the way you’re already trying to squeeze around him. he huffs and his warm breath blows across your face; he’s withholding himself, you know this, with the tense of his muscles and the crease of concentration on his brow.

you close your legs around his hips in attempt to pull him closer. he’s able to correct himself and remain steady, but still you manage to gain another press of his mushroom tip into your plush walls. “diluc, more. please, baby, i need you.”

he huffs again before smearing a kiss across your forehead. “i know, but patience.” he aches to fill you up just like you desire to be filled by him, stuffed to the brim with every inch, but he’s careful. he is a lot to take, and you are so incredibly tight. the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him down for a kiss. it’s searing, it’s sloppy, and it’s enough to distract him so you can push at his hips with your legs again. the stretch is immediate and you both sigh out. “i always take you so well, right?”

diluc is fisting the sheets tightly. you’re always so impatient for him, but he supposes he cannot blame you, not when he is equally as such. he tries to be, but you always manage to bring out a desperate side of him that makes him feel like he’s losing his grip on his sanity. “you do,” he breathes and pushes himself in more, quickly noting the way you tense up. “always such a perfect fit for me.”

he’s pressing his hips forward more and more, but so agonizingly slow that you have no other choice but to bask in the way every inch of him is crowding every bit of space inside you, stretching your walls so wide it has your breath catching in your throat. he’s like an all consuming fire, igniting all of your nerves and senses until you’re ablaze with wild desire. “diluc, please…”

“almost there, my love. you’re taking me so well.” diluc’s forehead is flush against yours just as he bottoms out completely, finally giving you the entirety of him. his hips are snug against yours as he remains still to allow your little cunt to acclimate to his girth, and to also allow him a moment to gain his composure. that first plunge of his cock into your heat always threatens to unravel him.

“you will be the end of me,” diluc says through a release of breath as he rocks his hips slightly, testing the waters. he kisses you when you whimper. “you and your tight,” a groan, “little pussy.”

your hands are carding through his thick hair in attempt to ground yourself. you already feel so insane off the pleasure and he’s just entered you. “want more, want you to move…”

the man above you chuckles and obliges. who was he to deny you? “always so eager for me, my love.” he starts off slow and deep until he picks up the pace, and it’s beyond you both at this point, the way your highs gain on you so incredibly fast.

“diluc, gonna cum already!” you’re so overwhelmed by the fullness of him, by the pleasure he gives you; it’s a euphoria only he can offer you.

his lips are on yours. slow, sensual, loving, and so contrasted to the sloppy rhythm of his hips. “like i said, so eager.” and yet, he’s so close to unraveling himself. all because of you and the way you take him so perfectly like you were meant just for him.

— wriothesley 𝜗𝜚

“easy now, pretty girl.”

the duke’s voice is hushed and rough while his hands are steadying your hips. he pulls your weight down on him just a tad bit further, not too much but enough to make you cry and him suck in his breath in a hiss. “take it nice and slow for me.”

you fist at his shoulders until your nails are digging into him through the fabric of his shirt. you try and fail to lower yourself down onto his cock; his hands keep you rooted in place, and your poor pussy is aching at the stretch of his tip. “wriothesley, let me sit on it.”

“that’s the idea,” he drawls with a smirk. “but we can’t get ahead of ourselves now can we?”

your bottom lip juts out in a pout. “you are so unfair.”

wriothesley kisses away your pout, nibbling at your bottom lip until you whimper. “and you are a little too eager. slow and steady, as they say.”

this certainly wasn’t the outcome you were seeking when visiting wriothesley at his office today, but here you are. and now you’re aching to be filled with his thick cock, but you and him both know that taking him in full is always something that must be handled with care…but you always get a little too impatient when presented the opportunity to have him.

“why are you so big?” you whine, your pussy fluttering around his thick tip. you’re already pushing your limits and it’s just the tip. you roll your hips back and forth for some sort of friction and the duke beneath you groans.

“is that a complaint i hear, darlin’?” wriothesley lifts his hips up and shoves another inch in, cock head pushing through your taught walls. “she’s certainly not complaining.”

you huff. your toes curl at the stretch just as you leak around his girth, pussy doing its best to allow him in, to accommodate. it’s a sticky mess that pools between your thighs and covers his lap. the further he pushes in the more you seem to leak your slick all over him.

“oh my god,” is all you can moan out when you sink another inch down on his cock, your thighs beginning to shake and your breathing quicken.

your lover beneath you smirks, icy gaze watching the way your brows furrow in concentration. “now if it’s too much for you, darlin’, feel free to tap out now.”

you always end up taking him in, every inch. you exhale and drop your hips all the way down until you’re flat on his lap, cock completely nestled between your gummy walls. you sigh out at the fullness, your poor walls stretching perfectly for him and squeezing him so good the man underneath you can’t help but groan. “don’t get cocky, your grace.”

wriothesley’s hands on your hips are bruising. he huffs out a chuckle and there’s involuntary flutter of your cunt around him. “you’re right,” he says with a grind of his hips. “and besides, my pretty girl’s always going to take me so good. if anyone should be cocky, it should be you.”

he follows up his praise with a searing kiss against your lips. you tangle your hands in his hair just as you begin to rock your hips back and forth.

“you’ve got me now, darlin’. just like you wanted. ride me and take your fill.”

— zhongli 𝜗𝜚

you feel hazy as you come down from yet another orgasm, thighs shaking and chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. the only thing that keeps you rooted to reality is the press of lips against your thighs, soft and adoring and comforting.

“you are alright?” zhongli’s deep voice is gentle and kind and it warms you from the inside out while he continues his kisses against your skin. he enjoys the way your slick and his spit glisten over your pretty cunt, and he offers an appreciative kiss against your swollen clit.

you whine at the sensitivity. you relax when one of his large hands massage your thigh. “i am more than alright, zhongli.”

he hums in response before trailing kisses up your tummy and through the valley of your breasts until he’s face to face with you. his gaze is warm and molten gold, setting you alight under its glow. “then allow me to take you now, my dearest.”

there’s a pause and then you feel it, the ever familiar press of his thick tip against your slippery folds. you gasp when he taps it against your clit and he’s quick to swallow up the sound of your moan that follows.

“you’re very wet,” he notes, proud of the mess he’s already made of you, and proud of you and how perfect you are for him. his cock pushes into your folds just enough for you to feel that first stretch, but does not continue any further. “do you think you can take me in full, hm?”

you nod eagerly just as you grasp at his strong arms. “yes, please. give me all of you. i can take it.”

of course you can, you always do. zhongli’s lips graze yours and he smiles warmly. “but as always, we will take this slow.” because even with the way you take him so well in the end, he’s careful, hesitant to inflict even the slightest pain upon you. he’s well endowed, godly in his design, and more than anything he wants this to pleasurable for you. he’ll never want you in discomfort because of him.

you moan as he makes the first small push into you; your pussy expands to welcome him in and the familiar burn of the stretch is there, quelled by the ample amounts of your arousal from the previous orgasms he had given you. “z-zhongli!”

your lover shushes you with another kiss, stilling himself while your walls quiver around his girth. “sshhh, my dearest. it’s alright,” he coos. “breathe for me.”

and you try to do as he says, but your breath is stolen from your lungs when he plunges deeper, invading every bit of space in the depths of you. “so full…”

zhongli chuckles as he rests his forehead against yours. he watches you as you pant, kiss swollen lips quivering, and he thinks you’re the most stunning being he’s ever seen. “i know. you are doing well.”

another incredible inch and your toes curl into the sheets. you sing out such a pretty chorus of moans for him; he gives you more of himself. your gummy walls wrap tightly around him and he sighs in content.

“i want the rest of you, zhongli.” you’re earnest in your desire. you need him all the way inside this very moment. but there is still much more of him to take. “i promise i can take it.”

the god of old places a kiss against your cheek, fondness for you, his adorable little human lover, and your abundant eagerness for him; the same eagerness he will always harbor for you and you alone.

“now, now. there is no need to rush. you will have me in full.” another kiss, and another inch. “i promise.”

nat’s notes — happy wrio and furina banner day!

[chubby-bun-bun]

anything for you, darling

If only you knew the atrocities he would commit, all in the name of his devotion to you.

tags: sylus x reader, hurt/comfort

You’re lying on your side, head nestled on his lap. Above you, you faintly hear him humming—a low, gravelly tune, his steady hand gently carding through your hair. The melody is slightly discordant, but the rich timbre of his voice makes you close your eyes, leaning subconsciously into his touch.

The party downstairs is in full swing, but you don’t feel like joining in on the fun. Odd, considering how much you’d looked forward to this event—a celebration of his recent acquisition of a coveted arms manufacturing company.

But when you went to the vanity he’d built for you for a final once-over, your excitement faltered. The dress, while breathtaking and clearly crafted with care and intention, doesn’t accentuate the places you’d hoped it would. It must be your body, you think. It just doesn’t do the dress justice.

And so, you retreated to hide away in his room.

It wasn’t long before he found you, though.

He didn’t ask why you were there. Without a word, he made his way to the bed, propped himself against the headboard, and pulled you to him.

Which brings you to this moment, lying on his lap, lulled by his crooked yet endearing lullaby as his fingers thread through your hair.

“The dress is lovely,” you murmur. “Thank you for having it made for me.”

“It looks especially lovely on you—everything does,” he replies, sincere, pulling a small, rueful smile from you.

“You don’t have to compliment me all the time, Sy,” you say, chuckling.

The hand in your hair stills. “I mean every word of praise I throw your way.”

You pat his knee gently. “I know. I just don’t want it to feel like a chore for you, is all.”

A firm but tender grip on your jaw draws your gaze up to meet his. His garnet eyes burn with intensity, pinning you in place.

“Did someone say something tonight?” he asks, tone low. The subtle threat in his inquiry sends a chill down your spine.

“No!” you stammer, a hand darting out to press against his chest. “No one said anything. I’m just…my mind’s just all over the place.”

His eyes narrow, and a thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth. “If anyone dares to say anything to you, you tell me. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” you squeak, face now thoroughly warm.

He relaxes, releasing you before resuming his ministrations in your hair.

You take a few moments to calm your racing pulse. “You should stop being so scary,” you mutter, poking at the buttons of his tailored suit.

“I’m afraid being scary comes with this line of work.”

“It sounded like you’d kill the hypothetical person who said something mean to me.”

“Sweetie, I’d burn the world for you.”

Your retort dies in your throat.

His eyes are closed again, and he’s resumed his humming. You want to call him out on his joke, but deep down, you know he means it.

“Sylus?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

You feel a gentle pat on your forehead.

“Anytime, kitten.”

other works

[navydoves]

It is absolutely hypothetically and totally unrelated to the new bug in the game... how do you think the lads men would kiss? My men looked hungry

Love your writing style!!

How the LADS men kiss

a/n: thank you for the submission!

✎ᝰ this is technically the second submission in my inbox, but since this is shorter i’m posting this one first. the first submission is an actual, full length one shot of sugar daddy sylus and sugar baby mc so stay tuned!

✎ᝰ don’t be afraid to submit anything, i’ll answer all. tysm!

࣪𖤐

Xavier

• for xavier, it depends on his mood. sweet and tender moments? think 21 days. careful with your face, cupping your cheek gently and initiating intimacy with his eyes before he even leans in. he’s careful not to push you, but if you’re reciprocating, he’s in. he always wants more.

• in these tender moments, he kisses slow, soft grunts and moans escaping his lips and filling yours. he’s a big head tilter, making sure he gets all angles of your lips against his, tasting every millimeter of what you have to offer. his hands aren’t stagnant either. they’re on your head, shoulders, nape, guiding you and making sure you two are in a rhythm.

• but when he’s horny, oh boy. think his nightly rendezvous card. his kisses are still soft and gentle, but absolutely filthy. he’s not the type to inhale your lips, no, he’ll take his sweet time with them and make sure you’re slowly building an ache in your body. his tongue is sliding against yours, flitting against yours, playing against yours like he’s trying to slowly shove it down your throat. there’s saliva everywhere once (if) he pulls away.

• xavier is also a fan of kitten kisses. he’ll kiss everywhere on your face and neck before diving back into you. he wants to cherish every part of your available skin before treating himself to your sweet taste again. contrary to popular belief, xavier is not as aggressive as people make him out to be. he’s very sensual with everything he does, he’s going to ensure you’re only thinking of him by the time he moves down lower.

• and xavier is not quiet either. his voice is soft and drawn out with each moan but it’s so absolutely erotic. almost like he’s hitting mini-orgasms every time he’s kissing you. he’s insistent the longer you two kiss, pushing you down and holding your jaw firmly to keep you from moving too much. by the first kiss you two shared, he already knew how to slot his lips against yours to ensure that every bit of your spit would be shared by him. TDLR: he’s super sensual and erotic.

Zayne

• zayne kisses like he’s got something to PROVE. he holds you still by your hips and no where else. he loves putting his hands on yours hips and just going to town. he’s a short kisser typa guy, meaning one kiss of his will never last that long. he’s very chatty during any type of intimacy, so he’ll pull back and praise and tease you before going back in.

• each new episode of a kiss is better than the last. he gets so worked up over time, seeing your face so flushed and shy as he speaks his sultry words to you. especially when the two of you are alone and he doesn’t have to be so cautious because of others. he loves pinning you somewhere and just getting his fill of you. pinning, not restraining. he wants you to have enough movement to see you shake and shudder under just his lips.

• zayne does not devour. yes, like i said, he is insistent but he’s never forcing his mouth on yours or eating your face up. he focuses on your lips rather than your tongue. in each kiss he’ll lick them, nibble on them, playfully press his tongue with yours and then pull back. sometimes he’ll focus on sucking one lip, other times he’ll focus on both and making you really feel his need.

• one thing about zayne is that he loves the sound of making out. he secretly really enjoys how wet and sloppy it sounds, so he will purposely wet your and his lips more just to hear how slick you two sound. call it an indulgence, but it really turns him on, especially when he pulls back and sees how glossy your mouth looks.

Rafayel

• needy kisses are rafayel’s specialty. even with a peck on the lips, he’s following his head toward yours for more. they’re often times more sweet than horny (i don’t think rafayel is the type to get horny that easily) but they manage to make you a little horny.

• rafayel is a lip nibbler. he fixes his lips into yours and suck and bites little nicks onto your skin just enough to make you yelp. it’s his way of subtle dominance and also his entertainment. he always enjoys it when you bite him back or whine at the teasing pain, but he knows you like it. of course he has to soothe those little bites with more kisses, so he takes your lips back into his and sucks on licks on them all needy.

• rafayel also really enjoys tongue. he doesn’t mind if you take the lead in the kisses and suck on his tongue, or if you let him do it, as long as someone is getting sucked on. he likes the warm, wet feel of your tongue against his and he likes teasing you with it too. especially when he’s horny, rafayel will lock your forearms in his hands and stumble with you as he insists his lips onto yours and his tongue into your mouth.

• he’s also a whiner and a groaner. each kiss, he’ll have to cup your face with his hands and ensure that every noise he makes is swallowed by you. his kisses are very devoted, like they were only made for you. for rafayel, there’s no need to go halfway. if he’s gonna kiss you he doesn’t want a peck, he wants a few good kisses that leave him breathless and yearning for more. his lips dominate yours most of the time, but he will more than gladly let your lips take control. in fact rafayel likes it when you take the lead and now you’re the one pushing him back, holding him still, sloshing your saliva in his mouth. he encourages it.

Sylus

• he eats you… but respectfully. sylus is all about guiding and leading and being a gentle dom. sylus’s lips and mouth are much bigger than yours, so naturally, when you go in for a kiss with him, he ends up taking the lead. but another thing about sylus’s lips is that they are really plush and soft, almost uncharacteristically so. it’s really enjoyable kissing him considering there’s so much to kiss there.

• he holds the back of your head or wraps his hands around your waist and makes you submit to his movements. you set the pace (how deep/sloppy/slow/fast you want it) but once you do, he’s all about control. his tongue will slide into yours and overwhelm you from how big it is. he doesn’t need to try much, he has you whimpering just from a few slides and sucks.

• sylus also gives off bumping foreheads. he’s so into the kiss that he’s subconsciously leaning into you and bumping his nose and forehead into yours gently. it’s affectionate as much as it’s a sign of pleasure. because he’s so into it, though, sylus gets majorly kiss drunk. the way your smaller lips nibble and lick on his, it really does it for him. he responds by taking one lip and sucking on it while keeping eye contact with you before moving his tongue back into your mouth. seeing how flushed you are is another thing that really arouses him.

• sylus groans into every kiss and he needs noises from you too. that’s why he likes to bite you here and there for a squeal. but most importantly, he needs moans. if he can make the kiss sloppy enough by slowing down your movements and really making you taste his needy lips and dripping saliva, then he will. and, aforementioned, he guides you the whole way through. he makes you take his spit but not in a degrading way, in an intimate manner where you’re learning his taste and he’s learning yours.

Caleb

• alright putting his ashy, dry ass lips aside caleb is a very good kisser. and by that i mean you can feel every single emotion in his body through a kiss. if he’s frustrated, upset, angry, aroused, cheerful, elated, you can find it all in a kiss—and that’s the way caleb communicates. he’s a physical touch type of person, so his emotions and vulnerability splay out and spill into your lips.

• that being said, one common denominator between most of caleb’s kisses is that they’re very passionate and loving. it is hunger, yes, but it’s not lustful. he’s not kissing you to get a rise out of his cock, he’s kissing you so you can feel good and he’d be elated if you took it further. he lets you go first, he lets you set the tone of the kiss because he’d literally kill himself if he overstepped your boundaries.

• similar to sylus, when he feels like it’s okay with you, he goes in with unrelated need. he’s a big head mover, position tester, lip dancer—whatever it may be. he doesn’t like staying in one position because he always feels like there’s more to explore. if he’s not tasting you like a dinner he’s doing something wrong. he goes from side dish to side dish in your lips, sucking and licking and kissing within seconds of each other.

• and then, he’ll pull back, rub the spit on your bottom lip around and smile at you and your pink expression before slowly going back in for more. he likes to build momentum most of the time if he’s not down right needy. if he’s horny then he just goes right in as long as you’re okay with it, but in the quieter, slower intimate moments, he slots your lips with his and builds up the make out session with kitten kisses and licks, then gentle lip sucks, then gentle tonging, until he’s ultimately a mess from how long he’s been pleasuring you.

࣪𖤐

[sakkiichi]

COVER ME IN SUNSHINE.

Ways in which your kid calls his dad. Will he get to hear a ‘papa’?

ft. Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Kaeya, Neuvillette x gn! reader.

cw/genre: pure fluff. Reader is referred to as ‘mama’, you and the character have a child. They’re all girl dads.

a birthday present for my dearest @bunny-rambles 🩵 i’m wishing you the best day today and always, hun ! ilysm, thank you for always being by my side. I hope we can celebrate many many more birthdays together, mwah <3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ note: about this fic… i struggled quite a little with it, and i’m sorry it’s not my best piece… this was a totally new concept to write for me, but i still hope you can enjoy, bunbun, dear ♡

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

Wide indigo orbs meet his furrowed gaze.

Scaramouche is not amused.

Or at least that’s what he wants whoever sees him right now to believe. Namely, you.

Tiny hands cup the Wanderer’s cheeks, big eyes, so similar to his, staring up at him in wonder. The little girl in his arms squeezes his face, a pout forming on her father’s lips. Giggles erupt from her smiling lips, the corners of Scaramouche’s mouth unconsciously tilting upwards.

“You’re amused, huh?” Your husband asks, rocking the baby in his hold. She stares at him, her little arms flailing upward, giggling happily.

“Moochie!” She babbles, trying to stand on the wanderer’s knees, her hands reaching for his hat.

“Hey, hey, now!” Kunikuzushi pouts, securing his hat. “That is not a toy and I’m not Moochie…”

“Moochie!” His daughter repeats, poking his cheek.

He sighs.

“Not Moochie…” Scaramouche’s ears take on a rather rosy tone, especially when your giggles are not exactly inconspicuous, your attempt at keeping hidden just outside the living room, obviously half-assed.

“Pa-pa. Not Moochie.” He repeats, bopping his little one’s nose. “And here, play with this.” He offers, handing his baby a doll curiously identical to himself.

Your eyes soften from your spot when you observe the fond smile on your lover’s face. He might feign annoyance, but when it came to your baby, all the facade was scattered to the winds. Storm clouds and lightning seemed so far away when he was surrounded by the blue skies and birdsong that dawned with your daughter’s hand grabbing his finger.

“Pa..” The little one begins, lifting the doll, as if indicating that it indeed represents her father.

“Pa…” Your wanderer prompts, as he points to the cloth mini version of himself.

Then, the girl’s eyes focus somewhere beyond her dad, tiny hands wiggling and waving, the plush doll still in her grasp.

“Mama!” She exclaims, making to reach for you, trying to climb over the sofa’s backrest, where it not for your partner’s protective hold.

Finally stepping out from your hideout, you walk towards them.

Familiar warm arms wrap around the no longer broken puppet, as your precious baby rests between your two heartbeats. Yours, steady, undeniably human. His, bloomed anew, thanks to you; with a newfound tune, sweeter, gentler, thanks to his little one.

Scaramouche closes his eyes, lashes of now starlit midnights resting on his perfect cheekbones. His head leans on your shoulder, your lips feather-light on his dusky hair, as your hands gently lift his hat a bit.

Your girl grabs one of her father’s fingers once more, the handmade mini wanderer kept close to her chest.

Yes, storms were definitely over for days to come.

✧ ALBEDO

A tug on the leg of his pants and familiar unintelligible noises pull the alchemist out of his task.

Albedo’s features soften when he spots the cause of his distraction.

Putting the notebook he was currently scribbling on aside, he crouches down.

“And who do we have here?” The chalk prince asks, smoothing the golden locks on his baby’s small head.

“Mama?” She replies, her tiny hand pulling on her dad’s clothes.

The gesture is followed by one of Albedo’s gentle chuckles, eyes like northern stars on clear nights bright at the sight of his daughter.

“Mama’s not here now, little princess.” He explains, as he picks the baby up. “They will get home soon, though.” Your child stares at him as if unsatisfied with the answer, head slightly tilted to the side. “How about we have some fun in the meantime?”

Giggles that always reminded Albedo of sunshine days at dragonspine are the answer that follows.

Taking his little one’s two hands in his, the chief alchemist helps his daughter take a few trembling steps, the baby happily padding on the wooden floor.

“There we go, princess!” Your lover chuckles, sitting the girl securely on the beige couch. Teal eyes flecked in emerald follow your partner’s movements, as he rummages through your living room’s drawers.

A few seconds later, more incomprehensible joyful babbles follow, when he sits by your daughter’s side, his hands expertely setting the supplies he retrieved on the low table. She stares at him intently, her gaze drawn to the vibrant crayons cluttering the tabletop’s surface.

“What should we draw today, my princess?” Are Albedo’s words, as he hands his child a light blue pencil, its tip dulled so she can’t hurt herself.

“Snow!” She exclaims, her tiny feet kicking back and forth in excitement, eliciting chuckles from her dad.

“You want to paint snow, my little cecilia?” He asks, combing through her blonde strands. “Alright, how about we paint you, mama and papa building a snowman?”

“Yay!” Your baby reaches for the blank paper, wonder and excitement written all over her rounded features, her tongue sticking out the corner of her small mouth. She always loved to draw and paint, especially when it was with Albedo. And even if her pictures often ended up turning out as just criss-crossing lines or messy splotches, you and your husband always kept every single one of them, displayed as priceless masterpieces on the fridge’s door, the living room walls or your study.

After a few minutes of focused work, three figures start taking form over a background of messily drawn blue snowflakes.

“Look, dearie.” Albedo calls. “Who are these?”

His girl looks up at him, a huge smile on her face as she bites the pencil.

“Mama! Me! And Papa!” She answers proudly, pointing at each of the figures.

Albedo’s eyes widen, gilded sparks reflected in the cloudless skies of his irises at his daughter’s words.

Those last two syllables.

His own pencil falls out of his grasp, clattering to the carpeted floor. In this moment, nothing else exists, save for the jingling echo of his daughter’s angelic tone.

“Papa?” She asks, tugging on his sleeve.

Albedo picks the little girl up, rising her as she laughs, unaware.

“Can you say it again, little princess? ‘Papa’.”

“Papa! Papa!” Giggles leave her throat.

Softly, Albedo places a kiss on her kid’s forehead, hugging her as the both of them lay down on the sofa.

When you got home, silence greets you, broken only by even breaths. Smiling to yourself, you brush a kiss against your husband’s and your daughter’s hair, a new painting adorning the walls after you gently throw a blanket over the sleeping figures of your two treasures.

✧ XIAO

“Do you want to hold her, Xiao? She’s been looking at you for a while.” You chuckle, your gaze softened when it sets upon your yaksha.

Golden eyes, not unlike the child’s currently on your arms, shadow in fear and shame for a moment.

What if he hurts the baby? What if his karma taints her somehow? What if-

“Xiao.” Your hand finds his gloved one, centuries of bloodshed written in the concealed scars. “She’ll be okay.” You reassure, a gentle squeeze, as your fingers slot between his.

The adeptus glances in his daughter’s direction, her round amber eyes curiously observing him.

Your husband’s jaw sets, his lips drawn in a taut line. If someone were to look at him now, they may think he’s sulking, the furrow of his brow apparently an indication to steer clear.

You, however, know better.

“Here, I’m with you, love.” You softly utter, placing your daughter in her father’s arms.

The baby stares up at her dad in awe, her little hands fiddling with the necklace he always wears.

She’s so small… such a pure and precious being… will she be safe with him?

Just as these thoughts plague his mind, the girl curls up in his embrace, nuzzling against his toned torso.

“See? She adores you, Xiao…” You tell him, knuckles brushing against your baby’s soft full cheek. “Isn’t that right, sweetie?” She turns around, a smile drawing on her lips, as she buries herself further into Xiao, whose cheeks have gone as red as the carmine lining his eyes.

“H-hello, little qingxin…” Xiao greets her, awkwardly rubbing her back.

In response, his baby tilts her head slightly backwards, the molten suns in her stare illuminating her father’s rusted gold gaze.

“Papa!” She goes, a little clumsy, it sounding more like ‘dada’.

The vigilant yaksha’s eyes widen, his heart feeling like a million bright lanterns floating towards a starry sky.

“Xiao! She said ‘papa’! See? She loves you!” You excitedly chant, hugging your husband’s waist, as you pepper kisses all over his face. “You are her first word, dear, our baby adores her dad so much. I knew she would!” A smile tugs at your lips, lids fluttering closed as you rest your cheek on Xiao’s shoulder.

His hands hover around his daughter, his hold on her delicate, as if she was a newly bloomed flower whose petals could vanish if the wind blew too strongly.

“Papa…” The girl repeats, her chubby cheek squished against’s Xiao’s form. Her eyes are droopy, a little yawn escaping her as she settles more comfortably in her father’s embrace.

Your adeptus heaves out a sigh of relief, the warmth of a familiar fireplace swarming all around him, as if candid candle flames were running through his veins when the soft snores of his daughter reach his ears.

The conqueror of demons’ mask would be shed for tonight.

✧ CHILDE

Small hands are glued to the window’s glass panes, a pair of bright blue eyes staring awestruck at the image currently taking place in your garden.

Flashes of crystalline cyan flit across the air as Childe wields his double blades, merging them into a spear, his muscles taut at the effort.

The little girl’s tiny hands curl into fists, as she leans forward in anticipation, marine gaze following her father’s movements.

He reminds her of the illustrations she’s seen in the picture books Teucer has shown her before.

She must get closer.

Looking over her shoulder, your daughter makes sure you’re busy with something in the kitchen.

Her plan can be put into action now.

Crawling towards the door on all fours, she realizes she’s nowhere near tall enough to reach the handle.

Oh, but she takes after you, and will not be deterred by something like this.

Silently, the baby makes her way towards the dog you took in. He’s big and fluffy and very peaceful, often keeping company to the little girl. With a gentle pat to his side, she looks up at him with those big blue eyes and, despite his instinct to keep her safe, the puppy obliges to her demand.

Folding his paws, the animal lowers himself to the ground, allowing your daugher to climb. A vivid spark flashes through her ocean eyes, tiny hands securing on her companion’s fur.

And just as she was about to reach the door opening to the garden, a familiar voice that’s lulled her to sleep many a night stops her in her tracks.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, little lady.” You stand a couple feet away from her, hands on your hips, your concern masked with masterfully feigned anger.

Your baby stares up at you, that oceanic gaze puppy-like, much like her father did when you were mad at him.

“Mama…” She mumbles, her little hands signaling to where Childe is training outside, sounds you can’t understand leaving her pouty lips.

You sigh, kneeling to pick her up, rubbing your dog’s chin gently.

“So you want to see papa training, don’t you, little troublemaker?” You prompt, smiling as you tickle her belly. She giggles, wiggling her legs in your hold. “Alright, just this once, and because he’s almost finished with his routine.” You warn, softly pinching her cheek.

Once outside, you both stare at the harbinger, you, with heating cheeks; your daughter, in admiration and wonder.

Then:

“Papa!” She calls, energetically waving to her father, as you have to struggle so she doesn’t fall out of your grasp.

Suddenly, Ajax’s hydro blades vanish, a rare glow present in the eyes that are so like his daughter’s. A wide grin spreads across his sun-kissed features, arms opening as he runs towards you and his baby.

“Papa! Papa!” His daughter repeats, as your husband hugs the both of you.

No matter how cold Snezhnaya’s blizzards blew, Ajax would always have his personal patch of sunshine in you two.

✧ KAEYA

Calla lilies surround the scene, their russet-hued petals aglow in the blue shimmer of the statue of the seven standing amidst the lake.

Dusk approaches, the sky still dyed in shades of tangerine and cherry blossom, the sun, a glimmering halo right above the horizon.

Over frondous grass spotted in sun and shadow, a blanket lies, its baby blue pattern fading into the multiple colors of the snacks scattered above it: portions of cake you baked the afternoon prior; sandwitches carefully cut in triangle shapes; handpicked apples and sunsettias, cut and placed into plates by your lover.

But perhaps the most vivid color of them all was that of the couple sitting atop it.

A couple and their daughter.

“You really liked this pie, didn’t you, little lily?” Kaeya coos at his baby, her chubby cheeks littered with crumbs of the soft cake she’s been devouring all afternoon. Two pairs of ice blue eyes meet each other beneath the setting sun, the girl’s giggles eliciting a chuckle from her father’s lips as he carefully wipes her face. “Mama will be mad if you stain your dress, little princess.” The cavalry captain points out, in mock scolding.

His reprimand is met with a bashful smile and his kid cuddling into him, her tiny hands clutching his clothes.

“Kaeya, don’t tease her!” You swat at his arm playfully, soft laughter leaving the both of you as your husband smooths over your girl’s hair, placing a soft kiss on her head.

“Don’t pay any mind to papa, now.” You reassure her, tenderly brushing over her chubby hands. “He’s a little silly sometimes.”

The girl looks up at you, those iceberg toned eyes wide in wonder at the world that she still has to discover around her.

You ruffle her hair, as she turns around in Kaeya’s embrace, settling on top of his legs, staring up at him.

“Papa!” She announces, taking ahold of Kaeya’s long braid, playing with it. “Papa… prince!” She points out, as she grabs one of the dolls she brought: a boy wearing a crown.

With a knowing grin, you shift closer to your lover, leaning against his side.

“Yes, little sweetheart, you’re right, papa is a prince.” Kaeya’s hand locks with yours over his shoulder, fingers laced together, the warmth of his touch so paradoxical, given the freeze he commands.

“And that is why you’re our little princess.” The knight tells your baby, as he places a stray calla lily on her hair.

“Princess!” She happily babbles, rising her arms.

Instances like this… they truly stoked gentle flames around the captain’s heart, oftentimes concealed behind apparently crystalline walls of frost. As long as he had the two of you, at least during brief moments like this, there would be no need for practiced facades.

Across the distant horizon, even dusk seemed to delay, allowing a few more seconds of luminous skies for the family sitting below it, a flickering smile crossing the anemo archon’s face of stone.

✧ NEUVILLETTE

Slate skies expand above him, his opal eyes restless oceans in the tears they contain, painted lashes dripping in midnight droplets.

Rainbow roses seem to weep too, their petals downcast, the sunrise shades of their blossoms muted in the downpour.

Neuvillette stands alone, the garden of your shared home melancholy; the trees too bare, the grass ashen, the flowers wilting.

Save for the pitter-patter of rusted silver droplets, silence reigns the scene.

The hydro dragon’s mood had a tendency to be mirrored in the heavens over Fontaine, after all.

Sighing, the Chief Justice takes a sit by a bush of lumidouce bells. Fitting, for someone whose shoulders slump not unlike the petals of the periwinkle hued blooms.

“Neuvi, love.” A familiar voice calls him, gently. “What are you doing out there in this weather, dear?”

Long argent locks of hair shift, like seafoam by moonlight, when he turns around, water, from the rain, or his tears, or both, running down his cheeks.

“Someone has come to see you, my love.” You softly utter, beckoning your husband towards the porch, the impending cacophony of his racing mind and falling downpour partially silencing.

Neuvillette’s features warm up a bit the moment he realizes who you’re talking about.

A little girl placidly rests between your arms, eyes of crystalline dusk looking up at her father. Unlike his, hers are rounded, lacking the dark circles frequently etched under your lover’s.

“Look who’s here, little rainbow.” You coo at your daughter, who tries chasing after your wiggling fingers, right as you playfully poke her belly. “Papa is here, do you perhaps want to play with him?”

The baby looks at you, one of her tiny fists on her mouth, as her eyes crinkle up in crescents. Then, she turns towards her dad, arms reaching out.

“Papa! Papa!” She laughs, inclining her flexible small torso towards him.

Neuvillette’s gaze widens, placing his hands around his little girl, protectively cradling her in his embrace.

“Papa is here, sunshine.” Your lover assures her, as he leans down to kiss her nose.

In the distance, a familiar arch shoots across the heavens, the violet of goodbyes and separations shifting into rosy affection.

Golden replaces dull steel, flecks of it dotting the grass, remnants of rain clinging like emeralds to the verdant stems.

The sun is out. The hydro dragon cries no more.

[rosegolden13]

Hardware store owner!John Price drabble <3

He’s on his smoke break in his office in the back, window open to let in the cool evening breeze and let out the stink of cigar. Store’s been slow today, but that’s no surprise for a random weekday.

Gaz and Soap are messing around out front, their voices carrying into his office from the cracked open door. No doubt they’re playing their makeshift version of floor hockey with a roll of duct tape as a puck and the yard sticks as sticks. Normally, he’d tell them off, but with no customers in, he let them have their fun. It would be closing time soon anyways.

The mechanical ring signalling the arrival of a customer is familiar enough that he tunes it out entirely. It isn’t until that sweet chirping filters through his door that he finds the need to immediately tap out his barely finished cigar, despite the fact that both Gaz and Soap are free to help you. Those muppets don’t know about the leaky sink you’ve been struggling with or the marigolds you’re desperate to help bloom. He needs to be there. It’s only reasonable.

His pace quickens a bit when he hears how your voice seems to be laced with anxiety, words spilling into one another. By the time he gets to the front, Soap has got his palms up, clearly trying to placate you like you’re a spooked horse. 

“Poison?! I-I don’t want to kill them!” You’re wringing your hands, stress palpable, as your bracelets clash against one another on your wrist. And this is what he’s been waiting for since you last came in, another chance to help his favorite girl.

Gaz is moving towards you as if to reach out a hand to place on your arm, but before he can, John’s heavy hand is on your shoulder, standing just behind you. “I’ve got this one, boys. Start cleaning up for me, will ya?”

Gaz and Soap exchange knowing smirks as they head off with a simple “sure thing, cap’n” and a “you got it, Price”. You’re looking up at him and he has to fight back the rush of pride that flows through him when he catches the relief in your expression. 

His thumb absently runs over the fabric of your flowy pink top, feeling your warmth through the thin fabric. “What’s the problem, doll? Never seen ya worked up like this.”

“John, oh, thank God. There’s mice in my attic- a whole family of them. I really wouldn’t mind, but there’s droppings everywhere. Animal control told me to call the exterminator. But I couldn’t live with myself if I had to- They’re only looking for a warm place to stay!” The words are a rush from your glossed lips, his hand rubbing over your shoulder the whole time and then squeezing gently once you’re done. 

God, you’re adorable. This passionate over the lives of a few woodland critters. He’s never flinched at bloodshed, but he’s not one for needless killing either, especially of anything as small and helpless as some mice.

His smile is patient as he looks down at you. “No exterminator necessary. I’ll handle ‘em for ya, lovie. Got a few humane traps I can set up for ya, free of charge. Wouldn’t want ya to get your finger trapped in ‘em.”

Your trust in him is all the payment he needs. Oh, and that sweet smile you give him as you babble happily about how he always knows just what to do. 

—

He follows you back to your place in his pick-up truck.

As you lead him inside, murmuring sheepishly about how it’s a bit of a mess inside, he’s focusing on how your smaller form squeezes in next to his in the tiny entryway, how you put your keys away with a gentle metal clatter, the movements unconscious because you’ve no doubt done them day after day. The intimacy of being in your space gets to his head, filling his mind with thoughts of placing his keys over yours on the little hook. 

You’re leading him upstairs to the attic soon enough. While he busies himself with setting up the traps, you sweep up mouse droppings. Settling into the work, a comfortable silence lingers over you both. John’s taking note of the christmas decorations, old books, and various bins you have stored up here, making a mental reminder to offer to come over if you ever need help getting the boxes down from here. He wouldn’t want you tripping down that rickety ladder leading up here. 

He’s setting down one of the last traps, placing it by a crack between the wall and floor that he wants to offer to fill for you, when you shriek, the sound loud enough to cover up the scurrying claws of the mouse that had just ran right by your sneakers. In an instant, your hands are digging into his hairy arm, clinging to him. 

It takes him a moment, looking between your hands and then your scared expression, before he’s springing into action. “Shh, darl’. It was jus’ a mouse. Can’t hurt ya. I won’t let it.”

He lets you hug his arm, using his free hand to gently rub your other shoulder. There’s a slight heat in his cheeks that he hasn’t felt since he was a teen, that small thrill of being alone in the dark, tucked close to another warm body. One touch from a pretty little thing and the seasoned captain is falling apart.

The moment is broken when you pull away with a sheepish smile. You’re apologizing again and again for getting spooked like that but John’s just watching you with a smile, sneaking glimpses at the crescent shaped divots your manicure left in his arm. He doesn’t want them to fade, mind wandering to how you could tear up his back with those claws.

Once the job is done, you say goodnight to him at the door, the yellow porch light casting a halo over his hair. He promises to come back once any of the traps are filled to bring the mice to a field so they don’t end up back in your attic again. 

And, no, doll, you don’t need to repay him but, how could he ever say no to a homecooked meal sometime?

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ’ when you aren't dating but aren't just friends either (hyung line)

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: fluff, a little bit of angst and suggestive themes!!

⁺ 𖹭 . warnings: some are talking about sex, alcohol and being intoxicated (not the boys). i think that's all idk. anyways!! if you're under 16 pls don't read this.

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: 2022 deni kinda ate with these ngl, so of course i had to rewrite it <3 these used to be my favorite hcs i ever wrote, so i truly hope you enjoy <3. happy channie day!! maknae line here!

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧

With Christopher here, things are complicated because he avoids labeling what you guys have like the plague. His work always comes first so that makes him shy away from commitment.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you. He does, a lot, and that kind of scares him, especially when he randomly starts feeling possessive over you when he knows he has no right to.

No matter how much he tries to deny it, the feelings are there and he’s always reminded of them when he catches himself treating you so much different from the other girls in his life.

You were humming in your seat, head bopping from side to side to the rhythm of the tunes on the radio. A happy bubblegum pop song, one that didn’t fail to lift your already high spirits and put you into the right mood for the long trip ahead.

“You look happy.”

Your head snaps in his direction, a big smile stretching across your face as his melodious laugh fills your ears. Chan wasn’t looking at you, giving all of his attention to the road as he drove behind Minho’s car yet his words made you giddier, just happy to be here in his presence.

“I am!” You nod, still swaying in your seat. “Thank you for taking me along, I haven’t been to the beach in ages.”

Chan hums with a smile before reaching down and gently grabbing your hand, eyes still focused on the road as he raises it to his to plant multiple, gentle kisses on your skin.

“Of course, baby.” He says, giving a final kiss to your knuckles before resting your hands next to the gear stick. “I wouldn’t even have gone on this trip without you.”

The sweet gesture along with his words made your heart skip several beats, fooling your mind into believing he actually felt the same, the scene making you resemble an actual couple. Everybody was convinced you were already dating, since affection and those small touches came so naturally in your relationship, with no awkwardness or second guessing. You and Chan have fallen into this domestic routine where you do almost everything together despite not even being together. Yet, you loved being this close to him, glued at the hip and so enamored with one another but sometimes, you wished things were clearer, to actually know what you were and weren’t. How he viewed and felt about this relationship of yours.

“Something on your mind?”

Blinking your worries away, your heart swelled in your chest when you felt him squeeze your hand lightly, a sign of the silent support and care he never shied away from providing.

Shaking your head, the smile on your face returns, albeit a bit forced. “I was just thinking about how much you must enjoy my company, that’s all.”

That got a laugh out of him, grinning from ear to ear as he continued to drive with one hand, honey orbs briefly meeting yours in the rearview mirror.

“Is that so? You really think that, huh?”

You nod, intertwining your fingers while keeping your eyes straight ahead, softly caressing his hand. “Of course. What kind of person would miss going on a long-awaited trip with his best friends just for lil’ old me?”

Then, you turn to face him, mustering enough courage to appear confident and charming with your next words.

“You must really like me, huh, Christopher?”

His hold on you tightened, almost as if he was afraid you were going to disappear if he let go. You saw him nod his head and when the car came to a stop at a red light soon after, he finally took his eyes off the road to face you fully. His gaze was soft as he watched you like you held the sun in your bare hands and for the first time, Chan hesitated for a brief moment before he leaned over the console to press his lips against yours.

The kiss was so unexpected that you gasped at the contact, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips and deepen your dance, change it all together, except he didn’t. He didn’t take things further, hand still holding yours as your lips did all the talking, moving against you in such a soft and tender way it almost brought you to tears, never experiencing such meaningful intimacy with him before.

When he pulled away, his eyes were still serious but slightly blown by your previous actions. In any other circumstances, you’d say it was lust but right now it felt like something more, an emotion that only grew and blossomed the more time you spent together. Something appropriate for your deep connection, beyond carnal desires and sighs of ecstasy.  

“I really, really do like you, Y/n. Please never forget that.”

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧

The jealousy is strong with this one. I mean, that’s to be expected when your relationship status is so vague and ambiguous that you guys never talk about it.

However, he’s the softest when he’s with you. It’s like all of his worries and anxieties disappear when you’re by his side.

Secretly a romantic.

“Who is she?”

Minho looks up from his place on the floor at the sound of your voice, one eyebrow rising as a sign for you to go on while he continues to stretch. When you don’t, he lets a small sigh escape him before taking matters into his own hands.

“Elaborate.”

“Who is she?” you try again, arms crossed over your chest while a frown forms across your features. “The girl that was just here. The one you were happily laughing along with.”

Oh, that girl. Minho tries to hide his smirk once he hears what you have to say, being able to sense your jealousy without even having to spare you another glance. Truth be told, he knew exactly who you were talking about from the moment you opened your mouth yet, the part of him that wanted to see you get all worked up took over and made him play dumb.

Quickly composing himself before you notice, he shrugs. “Just some girl.”

He could feel you getting annoyed by now, his nonchalance and dismissal almost making your blood boil. “Lee Minho – “

“Why do you care?”

His voice is lower, usual doe and gentle stare narrowing slightly as he looks you dead in the eyes. Abandoning his stretching, Minho then stands up and takes a stance similar to yours, towering over you. He was so close, you could feel his hot breath on your face, his scent and him as a whole not only invading all of your senses but also your personal space. Not that you minded, you never did or ever will.

Not backing down, you took a step forward as well, closing in on him while maintaining eye contact. Eye contact always made Minho weak in the knees so you never wasted any opportunity of making him a little hot under the collar. Just as expected, Minho’s body reacts almost immediately, big hands settling on your hips before pulling you flush against him. The intimacy and gentleness of the action have your initial anger vanishing, the only thing on your mind now being him and him alone.

Deciding to play along, your arms naturally gravitate around his shoulders. “Am I not allowed to care about the type of people you surround yourself with, darling?” You smile yet he sees right through you, your words filled with sarcasm and something else Minho can’t quite put his finger on. Despite your affection, this was still bothering you.

But Minho doesn’t comment on it. “Like I said, she isn’t anyone important. You shouldn’t worry your pretty little head about her.” He breaths out, wet lips hovering over yours as he speaks. And before you know it, he’s kissing you, lips coming together in a passionate kiss only Minho himself can provide.

But even as you stand there, pinned to the cold mirror while he gently nips and sucks at your neck, you can’t help but worry about it all. You weren’t his girlfriend so you were fully aware that you had no right to question him about who he was or wasn’t hanging out with. But the fact that he wasn’t willing to tell you, to reassure you like he always did made your heart ache in your chest most painfully.

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧

Thinks he’s being oh so subtle about what you two have going on. Newsflash, all of the boys already know there’s more than meets the eye between you.

Very protective but not in an overbearing way.

Actually really likes you but isn’t sure if you feel the same so he doesn’t act on those feelings.

Changbin was watching you from afar, a smile playing on his lips at the sight of you animatedly talking to some classmates. You haven’t noticed him yet and his heart was almost jumping out of his chest waiting for you to do so, trying to play it cool as he leaned against his car with his arms crossed. He might’ve looked calm and composed on the outside but on the inside, he was freaking out.

You two haven’t seen each other in a bit because of his busy schedule and now that he’s got some free time, one of the first things on his bucket list was to surprise you by dropping by to your school. Changbin had a whole afternoon planned out just for the two of you, one that involved all of your favorite activities and food. A part of him was really confused by his own behavior, especially since you never had ‘the talk’ regarding your relationship but he just couldn’t help it. The urge to spoil and shower you with gifts and his undivided attention was stronger than his doubts were, as usual.

He never realized he was a romantic until he met you, and fell head over heels for your charming personality.

Breaking away from your group of friends, your eyes finally met his and immediately widened at the sight of him, just like his smile does. Your face lit up like a Christmas tree and next thing Changbin knew, you broke into a sprint in his direction, your obvious excitement making the man laugh loudly in delight. You looked so adorable running to him like that, he couldn’t wait to get you in his arms and never let go.

You were almost there when suddenly some dude decided to stop you right in your tracks, blocking your path to get your undivided attention. You were visibly taken aback as you came to an abrupt stop, your face falling as the person started talking. This made Changbin’s mood do a whole 180, wasting no time in starting to make his way over, keen on giving this dude a piece of his mind. Your smile returned as he approached, looking at him over the man’s shoulder as everything he was saying was completely lost on you, Changbin’s magnetic field pulling you in without fail.

“Sorry, uhh…” You paused, trying to recall his name before shaking your head. “My boyfriend is here so I really have to go.”

At the mention of the word ‘boyfriend’, the guy turned around to face Changbin so fast, it had him wondering how he didn’t get whiplash. Looking at him, Binnie glared as he tried to look as intimating as possible while the butterflies in his stomach were currently causing a riot over you calling him ‘your boyfriend’. Which wasn’t a hard task since he already looked as intimating as they come because of his well-built body, his mere presence causing the other man to hunch slightly.

“Okay, I-I will call you later then, Y/n.”

Changbin raised a single eyebrow, crossing his arms once again. “Me, Y/n's boyfriend, wouldn’t like that, so don’t you even dare.” He glared menacingly, almost like daring the guy to protest in some way. “Now, scram.”

That’s all the warnings the guy needed to flee, leaving without as much of a goodbye while Changbin followed him with his eyes until he was out of sight. Your sweet giggles reached his ears, melting those sharp edges before he felt you throw yourself into his arms, your own going around his neck to pull him even closer. And just like that, the butterflies were back and making him feel like a high schooler around his first ever crush. He returned the hug in an instant, strong arms wrapping around your waist before picking you up and spinning you around, the sound of your delight getting rid of all of his annoyance and stress, the best cure ever invented.

“Hello, boyfriend.” You placed several pecks on his lips when the world stopped spinning, lightly kicking your feet that were still off the ground. “I missed you.”

He wasn’t your boyfriend yet, but after today, maybe he could finally be. 

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧

The one that’s truly wrapped around your finger even if he would never admit it out loud. He’s bewitched, mesmerized by every little thing you do and say, his eyes full of adoration as he follows your every movement, almost like a puppy.

Randomly goes: “you can sit here” and here ends up being between his legs in a room full of 7 other men.

Can never take his eyes off of you.

Everyone’s laughter was bouncing off the walls as another dare was swung around, one that had someone pull out their phone and booty call a random number while trying but failing miserably to sound sober. Speaking off, everything seemed to be funny for your intoxicated friends at this hour. From knocking over each other’s drinks to randomly kissing, they were having the time of their lives and that brought the biggest smile to your lips.

“Hyunjin.” One of your girlfriends began, getting both yours and the man that was currently sitting behind you on the floor’s attention. She had a mischievous glint in her glassy eyes, one that had you a bit worried.

“What’s your type?” she finally asked before taking another sip of her drink, smirk growing bigger by the second as she fluttered her eyelashes innocently, twirling a piece of her hair around a manicured finger. “Like I’m sure you don’t just fuck randos, they all have to fit some type of criteria, don’t they?”

“What gets Hwang Hyunjin hard?” Another one chimed in, scooting closer in interest.

And there it was. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as all the girls started giggling, clearly very amused and intrigued by the whole situation. Granted they were drunk but since you weren’t, it was a bit harder to hide your annoyance. You and Hyunjin weren’t a couple, heck you didn’t even know what you were but he was latched onto you from behind while you sat in between his legs, strong arms hugging you to his chest. Did they have to ask something like this while you were right here?

Soon, almost all of your friends seemed to be interested in his answer, especially since Hyunjin was known for his notorious reputation with both girls and boys around campus. You finally felt him react when Changbin, who was an even louder drunk, pointed out the look on your face and got everyone staring at you two. His arms tightened slightly around you, pulling your body even closer like he was trying to merge souls while his head came to rest on your shoulder in such a way that prevented the others from seeing his lips moving.

“What do you think, baby?” He whispered, hot breath making goosebumps appear all over your skin and awakening something in you. All his attention was on you now, ignoring everything and everyone around him like he wasn’t just asked a question. As expected, their interest wasn’t piqued for long since Hyunjin didn’t react nor answer, talking among themselves once again, with some hollering and wolf whistling when they noticed him gently moving your hair out of the way to start planting wet, open-mouthed kisses on the side of your throat.

Your breath picked up at that, one of your hands moving to rest over his and intertwining your fingers while his free one sneaked under your shirt to caress the bare skin.

With one last kiss on the back of your neck, Hyunjin spoke again, his next words making your head spin and almost whimper. “Should I start telling them about how sweet your voice sounds while moaning my name? To list all of those things you do that drive me insane daily or should I just let this be our little secret?”

[lay-z]

my lover's got humor

SYNOPSIS: Johnny takes you home to Glasgow to meet his family. Behind the door of his childhood bedroom, you make him see Heaven.

PAIRING: John 'Soap' MacTavish x fem!Reader

WARNINGS/INFO: 18+ | Johnny is catholic; established romantic relationship; blasphemy (?); smut; pegging; anilingus; body worship; fluff/aftercare; 6k wc

† BASED ON THIS †

Much thanks to @raspberryandechinacea and my 🦇 anon for putting ideas into my brain. 🤍 Also, Happy Easter (if you celebrate)!

“You’re unbelievable, MacTavish,” you call out over your shoulder, feigning annoyance though a permanent grin seems to be plastered on your lips nowadays. 

“Aye, unbelievably handsome!” Johnny counters over the noise of the shower running before he goes back to singing some merry Scottish folksong at the top of his lungs while you exit the stuffy bathroom, wrapped up in a towel and drying your hair with a smaller one. 

Even taking a hot shower didn’t stop that familiar soreness seeping into your muscles after that long hike Johnny has taken you on today, showing you (off) around his hometown and taking you to his favourite scenic viewpoints. 

You didn’t expect to stay in the home where he grew up in for the remainder of your visit, but Johnny’s parents had insisted; not wanting either of you to spend any money on some expensive hotel or Airbnb when they have more than enough space to host you and their only son—especially considering you’re his girlfriend and the first woman he decided to introduce to the family. 

It’s getting serious, even though it hasn’t even been half a year and yet—you could swear that John MacTavish is the one. 

The realization of having found a true love—no matter how sappy the thought—leaves a giddy flutter in your stomach, one that spreads and blossoms into something warm and comforting in your chest, and suddenly, your steps seem a little lighter as you skip about in his old childhood bedroom to grab some clean clothes from your suitcase in the corner next to the desk—a desk he used to do his homework at after school, you muse. 

Your eyes roam around the room as you slip into a fresh pair of panties and a comfortable sports bra, and they narrow when you catch sight of some pictures pinned to the corkboard above the desk; hidden behind pages ripped from sketchbooks and journals, fading concert tickets and an autograph signed by Biffy Clyro—a mosaic of Johnny’s fondest memories, it seems. 

His tune changes to mimic an opera, rough baritone voice echoing off the bathroom walls, and you snort to yourself, shaking your head with a small smile as you approach the corkboard to inspect the pictures. 

Some are Polaroid, some simply printed out on paper and heavily pixelated. 

There’s one of him with a group of blokes, his Mohawk grown out, red plaited pants hanging low on narrow hips, black nail polish cracked on his ringed fingers—proof of his punk phase, and for a moment you wonder if your teenage self would’ve found him as attractive as your grown self finds him now, until your attention is caught by another picture. 

Clearer and photographed properly—now a respectable soldier posing with two comrades around his age, they’re standing at attention, tall and proud, their chests puffed out underneath crisp dress uniforms. Birds without feathers, greenhorns who haven’t seen war yet. 

Johnny’s eyes shine with raw determination to prove himself to his peers and superiors alike, to become the best of them all, though nowadays it feels like you’re rather catching the dangerous glint of a predator who knows exactly what he’s capable, which is as exciting as it is frightening sometimes. 

As your fingers brush over the shiny picture, you notice another, much older one—Johnny as a teenage altar boy. Dark, shaggy hair curling over a pimpled forehead, wearing one of these typical white robes as he stands in a half-circle with three other boys in matching attire next to a lavish altar inside an ancient looking, pompous church. 

You find more pictures of him and his family at church, receiving communion, at Easter mass, at one of his sisters’ weddings, his niece being baptized with him chosen as her chosen Godfather— 

And you’re aware that Johnny was raised to be a proper boy and a good, religious man who fears nothing but God’s judgment—and perhaps his ma’s to some extent—but seeing the evidence of his deeply-rooted beliefs right here, pinned to the corkboard, gives you a whole new understanding of who John MacTavish truly is: 

Namely, an incredibly loving and devoted man. 

“Havin’ fun stalkin’ me?” 

Your eyes widen with a surprised gasp; full body flinching when your boyfriend’s warm breath suddenly tickles along the side of your neck. His chuckles triumphantly after his umpteenth successful sneak attack. 

“You’re so fucking mean,” you whine while his arms come up to wrap around your waist as he presses himself to your backside, all warm, damp and very much still naked from his shower. 

“And you’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days and then what? Huh?!” you snap, though your voice is lacking any bite when he nuzzles his face into your nape with another chuckle and a low hum of delight. 

His bulky arms squeeze you harder. “I’d simply die, too,” he retorts causally, as if it’s the most reasonable and logical answer he could give. “We die together one day, hen.” 

“How romantic,” you laugh humourlessly and pinch his tattooed forearm, though the thought leaves a strange heaviness in your chest and a bittersweet taste in the back of your throat that you force yourself to swallow. “I should punish you one of these days for always scaring me like a twonk.” 

He huffs in amusement, completely unbothered. “Mhm, maybe ye should.” 

When Johnny starts peppering kisses along the curve of your neck and shoulder, brawny hands now roaming over your bare curves and up, up, up to palm and knead your breasts through the fabric of your sports bra, you get an idea. 

Glancing down at your open suitcase resting by your feet, you kiss your teeth in thought. 

“What if I’d like to fuck your pretty arse again?” 

That makes him tut. His lips hover right behind your earlobe, and you can practically feel his breath hitch as his chest expands against your back. There is a pause before he finds his voice again. 

“Ye… brought it?” he asks, peeking over your shoulder, thick brows raised in a mix of surprise and precariousness. 

“Uh-huh,” you hum matter-of-factly, already bending down to rummage and pick up the black leather harness with the nude-coloured dildo attached from your suitcase. It isn’t particularly long nor girthy, but the sight of it makes Johnny swallow, his throat clicking so hard, you can hear it. 

“I’d love to try it again… if you’re up for it.” 

Turning your face to gauge his reaction, you notice the tension in Johnny’s neck; thick tendons flexing as he considers your words, azure eyes flickering in thought as if he’s mentally diffusing a bomb. 

“With much more prep this time,” you add, feigning coyness as you turn in his embrace to face him fully, hand reaching out to tilt his chin, so he meets your eyes. Your thumb brushes over dark stubble and the prominent scar below his bottom lip before you lean in conspiratorially, cooing: “I’ll even eat your ass.” 

And you can practically watch his pupils dilate at once—a black hole swallowing the sky, a kitten locking in on its prey, bright blue irises making way for onyx pupils while his buff chest expands with a deep inhale. 

“Eat me ass, hen? Now? ‘fore supper?” he asks breathlessly, one callous hand snatching your wrist as if he’s afraid you’re simply taking the piss before making a run for it. Oh, but he’d chase you. 

Nodding gingerly, you twist your wrist out of his grasp with a soft snicker, pleased with his reaction. 

“Yup,” you push at his chest, urging him to back up towards his bed—not as large as yours at home, but you’ve made do with him under worse circumstances, like having a quickie in the public restroom on his base right after you’d picked him up at the airfield. Back then, it’d been the first time he had to leave you for his job, and the reunion was rather passionate. 

“It was way too rushed last time, and I’d barely put the tip in before you came all over yourself,” you reminisce, smiling adoringly when his face reddens and his eyes flit to avoid yours as he walks backwards. 

“Was drunk an’ ye were wankin’ my cock,” he retorts apologetically. “Couldnae ‘ave stopped it if ah’d tried.” 

You snort. “You were yowling like a cat in heat, baby. Begging me for more,” you remark, scratching your fingers through his coarse chest hair. “I fucking loved it.” 

“Ach, feck off.” He pouts and his calves hit the frame of the bed with finality. “I wasnae worse than you, when I give it to ye good.” His chest puffs against your hand, but his words don’t manage to sound half as confident as he usually does when he’s blushing so furiously. 

He licks his lips like a wolf licks its chaps, peering down at you as if he’s the one in charge right now. “Fine,” he growls, voice lowering to a husk. “How do ye want me?” 

You huff a laugh through your nose, eyes crinkling and twinkling as you smile triumphantly. 

“Pants off and on your back, MacTavish. Arms above your head.” 

While Johnny seems surprised, he obeys without any further complaints, and you take off your bra again, keeping your panties on before slipping the strap-on harness over your wiggling hips; grabbing the lube and delicate cotton robe to leave on the mattress within reach as you join him on the bed between his nicely spread legs. 

Last time you’d pegged him, it was in doggy—impersonal and unromantic. A crackpot idea after a date night out together. This time, you’re determined to make it more special. 

His flushing chest is rising and falling slowly, head resting on a pillow from where he gazes up at you with defiance and awe—petulant at the way his cock is already semi-hard as it rests on his upper thigh. The thick vein running along the underside of his shaft pulses as it pumps blood steadily, turning his flesh dark and ruddy under sensitive foreskin while a pearl of clear precum beads at the mushroomy tip. 

Drinking him in for another moment, this rugged Adonis in front of you, you make a vague gesture with your hand, clicking your tongue in disapproval. “I said arms up, MacTavish. 

Johnny glances at your hands and his cock twitches. “Tyin’ me up, too?” You nod, grabbing the white rope. “Wha’? Afraid I’ll flip ye over?” He chortles at his own joke, eyes glinting with mischief. 

A raised eyebrow is enough to make him comply and you lean over to tie his hands to the old bedpost, supple tits dangling and nipples tightening right in front of his face. But then your eyes catch the black rosary, gently swaying as the frame moves, wrapped around the upper post and you cannot help it but be taken aback momentarily. 

Cheeky as ever, Johnny starts peppering kisses on whatever sliver of skin he can reach; up your sternum, between the valley of your enticing breasts before mouthing at the pillowy mounds, tongue dragging and lapping like a disobedient pup. 

Perhaps you should feel guilty or even shame at what you’re about to do under the presence of the holy cross, but you don’t. 

Quite the opposite, in fact. You’re not that religious, if at all. 

It feels thrilling, knowing that you’re going to fuck this incredibly capable and gorgeous man—that he lets you debauch and unravel him wholly. You can feel your own arousal start to seep between your folds, slick and warm, soaking into your flimsy panties—add his mouth still suckling on your tit, trying to catch your nipple, and your hips twitch shallowly for friction. 

His muscles flex and bunch in this stretched position once his wrists are bound with a nice knot; stormy blue doe-eyes blinking up at you, darkened with lust, all trusting—almost fragile. There’s a moment you wonder if anyone else has ever done this to him, aware how much of a whore he’s been before meeting you—a true soldier—and you can feel your throat close with a wave of gnarly jealousy. 

You sit back on your haunches, admiring your work briefly, before catching sight of the rosary again while the harness cuts and pinches into your skin. 

“Have you ever fucked anyone in this bed?” Your voice comes out more coolly than you wanted, snappy even, and you quickly fix your sudden attitude when his brows furrow into something apologetic. 

Johnny kisses his teeth before shaking his head. “Nah, why? Ye jealous, hen?” He has the audacity to look smug as he tries to ease the tension. Always the bloody jokester. 

You ponder with your hands on his upper thighs, caressing up and down his hairy legs, then: 

“Thou shalt not lie,” you remark nonchalantly, watching the way his fully erect cock begins to leak onto his lower abdomen; pearly precum smearing into the coarse, black happy trail. 

“… ‘s what you learned as a pretty altar boy, innit?” 

The smugness is wiped off his face at once and he snorts to downplay his bashfulness, though the deepening red on his cheeks tells on him. You don’t really care if he’s lying or not—he’s yours now and that’s all what matters anyway. 

“Aye…ah guess so,” he mutters, hips squirming as you reach for the fluffy pillow under his head; folding it before stuffing it under his lower back, lifting his ass to your liking while he lets you. 

There’s a pause, but you feel his curious eyes on you, cogs turning in his clever brain. You nudge his knees, and they fall open limply; his feet rustle the sheets as he bends his legs, opening himself up to you obscenely while his cock keeps weeping sticky precum like a broken faucet, yearning to be stimulated. 

“Why’r ye askin’?” 

You lower yourself flat onto the mattress, going eye-level with his sex and getting a whiff of arousal, clean skin, woodsy body wash and a faint hint of his natural musk. His chest heaves and his breath hitches when you lean in to smother the inside of his muscular left thigh with open-mouthed kisses, nipping at pale skin and laving your flat tongue over the sting. 

You glance up at him from between his thighs, and it’s such an innocent sight, your cheek resting against warm skin, that it’s enough to make his balls throb with pleasure. 

“Because I am jealous, Johnny.” Your voice is so soft, your words so genuine, it almost feels like you’re giving confession, and Johnny’s throat bobs, mouth drying as he licks his lips. 

“Why?” 

Because you love him something fierce—but choose not to say it, not yet anyway, and you turn your face, hiding your smile as you bury it into the giving flesh of his upper thigh before sinking your teeth into fat and muscle, latching on with possessive greed. Your cheeks hollow at the created vacuum; tongue flicking over coarse leg hairs, and Johnny hisses when you pull back with a harsh tug; teeth grazing over sore, glistening skin where a mean bruise has formed. 

Laying your claim on him like a madwoman while the thought of him being with someone else makes you nauseous if you think about it long enough. 

Your lips skim up his thigh and you relish in the way his skin twitches with anticipation and his breath grows ragged while your right hand kneads one plump ass cheek, nails clawing into flexing muscle. 

Johnny groans when your nose brushes the apex of his thigh. “Ye’re a terrible tease, luv.” 

A wicked grin splits your lips. “Oh, but I’m being so nice to you, Johnny,” you peek up at him as you finally grasp his length, veins throbbing inside your palm as you pump the silky flesh. “Can you recite the Hail Mary for me? I’m a bit rusty when it comes to… prayers ‘n all that.” 

Bright, glossy eyes flutter open in disbelief, and he lifts his head to look at you, both shock and curiosity whirring behind his hazy gaze, and then his eyes roll back shark-like, when you pull his foreskin back before dragging your tongue along his shaft. 

“Bloody… mother of God,” he groans, head tipping back, tendons flexing in his neck while he bares his throat in surrender like a dog showing its belly. His bound hands ball into fists, unable to grab anything for leverage and his hips jerk desperately, chasing your tongue for more ministrations. 

Grabbing his aching cock at the base, you watch some watery beads of his essence run down his shaft, coating and dripping over your curled fingers, and it’s almost mesmerizing as you slowly stroke him from root to tip while you watch his precum smear and slick up his ruddy flesh. 

Johnny curses through clenched teeth, back arching and hips canting into your touch. 

“Well?” you ask, right eyebrow quirking in a taunt while your hand stills on his cock. 

His head stays tipped back, eyes falling shut in resignation while his hands unclench against the bindings. “Fuck,” he drags out under his breath. “Hail Mary ye said?” 

There’s a tense pause, and he shifts his hips, heels digging into the mattress as he brackets you in. The rosary keeps swaying above him. 

“Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed a-art–” He falters when you spit on his tip and start stroking again. “Start over.” 

His throat bobs, he clears his throat, and you continue to pump his length languidly, when he obeys: 

“Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus–f-fuck–!” 

Your fist stays curled around the thick base of his shaft, his soft foreskin pulled taut to expose his angry-red cockhead while your tongue stops lapping at it, lips ceasing their suckling, when he stutters once more, words dissolving into a guttural groan. 

“Again.” 

It only gets worse when you descend down his parted thighs after another torturous moment; peppering open-mouthed, wet kisses on his balls, then teasing his smooth taint with your tongue before finally reaching his puckered hole, already drenched by a mix of his arousal and your saliva dripping down his ass crack when you start licking him, a pleased hum bubbling up in your throat while you continue to stroke his throbbing prick. 

He’s breathing so raggedy and heavy, one might think he just ran a marathon in full tactical gear; beads of sweat gathering above his thick brows before trickling down his grimacing face, right over the pulsing vein in his temple. 

“Ngh–fuck, fuck–Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God–Mother of G–fuck, I–I cannae–! Please!” 

His cock twitches in your unrelenting grasp, balls drawing up tight again as you continue to edge him towards his release only to stop whenever he messes up his prayer again. 

“Ah cannae do it,” Johnny whines hoarsely before he utters your name like a plea. 

He squirms against his bindings and whines when you stop jerking him off once more, tries his best to keep his legs spread wide open while you eat his ass with scandalous fervour; humming and moaning as you devour him, and bucks his hips when you pull your mouth away from his tight hole. 

“Come on, baby,” you coo, peeking up at him with lust hazy doe-eyes as you smack your glistening, puffy lips obscenely. “You can finish that prayer for me, right? One fucking time and I’ll let you cum. Just be a good boy for me now.” 

His buff chest heaves as he nods weakly, eyes squeezing shut while his head tips back against the mattress with a dull thud; his hands ball into pale, tight fists and you notice the reddened and bruising skin around his wrists in a stark contrast against the cotton rope. 

“Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou–“ His breath hitches sharply when you start licking his asshole again, circling the tight rim with the tip of your warm tongue before pushing inside with a low moan, all while stroking his weeping cock simultaneously.  

A shuddering exhale wrecks through his whole body, but Johnny grits his teeth and manages to continue breathlessly: 

“–thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of–of death! OH FUCK!” 

The slick sound of your hand pumping his cock grows louder as you quicken your pace; wrist twisting and jerking teasingly; stroking him from base to tip relentlessly now that he managed to finish his little prayer. 

When you lift your head again, scrambling onto your knees and bracing your free hand on his knee to watch him succumb to the pleasure, he’s nearly chanting while his back arches off the mattress, gorgeous eyes screwed shut. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, fuck, please–!” 

It’s a beautiful sight when Johnny finally comes undone all because of your mercy on him. His handsome face is twisted in pleasure, brows furrowed, teeth sunken into his pouty bottom lip while a deep flush covers his cheeks, his neck, his whole chest beneath a layer of coarse hair. 

His breath stutters harshly when he shoots his load all over himself; thick, white ropes of cum splattering over his taut stomach and flexing pecs, some barely missing your face as you hover, milking his twitching cock for all its worth as he tries to muffle his whorish moans by twisting his face and biting into his own biceps. 

“Jesus Christ, honey–look at you,” you giggle, eyes sparkling with delight as you keep stimulating his softening prick. “You have no idea how fucking pretty you look, coming so hard for me.” 

Johnny keeps his blushing face hidden into the crook of his biceps as he rasps out: “Aye… ye’re a right fuckin’ menace, love.” 

His abs are still clenching with panting breaths, his cock giving feeble twitches in your palm, and he hisses through clenched teeth, when you finally let go, and he goes lax on the mattress. 

However, before his seed can cool and dry up on his skin, your eyes glint with another idea, and you swiftly drag your right palm through the mess on his torso before spreading it over your strap generously. 

“Nah, nah–” Johnny protests meekly, eyes bugging as he catches on to what you’re doing. 

“Shhh, ’s gonna be fine,” you shush, rubbing your hands up and down his trembling thighs soothingly so he keeps them open for you. He tugs on the rope again. “I’ll make you feel even better, okay? You’re being such a good pup for me. I just need a little more. I did make you feel good now, didn’t I?” 

“Take the fuckin’ rope off,” Johnny huffs, nostrils flaring as he glares at you with fretfulness, raw-bitten lips pulled into his trademark pout before he relents and gets back into position. 

“Wanna touch ye when ye fuck me with yer wee plastic knob.” 

You snort, smiling gleefully as you lean over to untie him from the bedpost. 

“It’s silicone.” 

He clucks his tongue. “Ach, bloody fake, tha’s wha’ i’is.” 

Once the cotton rope falls away and his hands come free, he’s on you with unrestrained greed—callous palms running up and down your flanks, squeezing your hips and mapping out the curve of your ass before groping the plump muscle so hard that he’s giving you a wedgie, causing you to yip at the sting. 

“Ye’re so fuckin’ soft, hen. C’mere,” he groans as he tries to pull you on top of him before you push a hand against his sternum, keeping yourself from succumbing to his advances that easily. 

“Nah–ah–ah.” You cluck your tongue in chide, shaking your head. “I am the Captain now.” 

Johnny snorts at the corny movie quote and then groans as his head drops back against the pillow with a soft huff, hands resting on his stomach, though you can tell he’s itching to just grab you. “Fuckin’ tease ye are.” 

You’re still snickering as you reach for the lube and pop the lid open to squeeze a generous dollop onto your fingertips before reaching down to prod at his spit-slicked asshole. 

He gasps when you spread the slabby, cool fluid between his cheeks, drawing leisure circles around his hole with your fingertips before prodding at the tight rim. “You gotta relax for me, baby. C’mon now–” 

His thigh muscles tremble and jump under his dewy skin, and you react by soothing your free hand over his leg, up his thigh and hip, squeezing his waist as you push your middle finger into his ass. 

“Fuck!” His back arches at the intrusion, hands snatching the bedsheets and fisting them tightly, and you’re quick to hush him with a sly smile. “It’s a lot, hm? But you’re being so, so good for me–so fucking sexy, Johnny.” 

Johnny exhales a ragged breath, blinking slowly as he relaxes for you—thick thighs parting some more while you prep his hole, adding your ring finger with a lewd squelch that leaves him whining as you begin to fingerfuck him agonizingly slow. 

Eventually, you’re pleased by how much you’ve prepped him—judging by the steady flow of precum running down his shaft and the way his hole flutters around your fingers whenever you brush and stimulate his prostate. 

He keens when you retrieve your fingers, and you smile when you guide the tip of your fake cock to his hole. The rosary is still swaying above him gently,  

“Breathe, baby,” you coo as you push your hips forward, penetrating him slowly. 

And you pull out half an inch, only to push forward again—steadily and carefully working the strap into his tight hole while your boyfriend takes short, shuddering breaths. “Lookit you—taking me so well, huh. Feels good?” 

He’s a right mess already; hiding behind his arm thrown over his face, though you can clearly see the flush of arousal spreading over his chest and up his neck again. With his blood simmering and sensitive nerves frayed, his fat cock twitches meekly against his belly as you fuck him slowly. 

You pinch his hairy thigh, and he grunts, peeking to glare at you. “I asked you a question, Sergeant,” you repeat. “Feels good?” 

His jaw clenches as he nods curtly, and you almost laugh at how pissy he looks. You grab his hips as best as you can and bottom out completely, hips pressing flush against the back of his thighs, enticing a rough yelp that dissolves into a pathetic half-moan, half-whine. 

You smirk wickedly. “There we go.” 

His chest heaves, hips squirming—away from your fake cock or trying to get you deeper, you can’t quite tell. 

“More?” You squeeze and massage his taut flesh gently, rocking your hips experimentally as you observe his every miniscule reaction. The crimson flush has reached his stubbled cheeks by now and your teeth itch to sink into the bit of fat covering the cheekbone. “Then use your words, sweetheart.” 

Then, Johnny sighs your name like a prayer that he hopes can salvage him, causing your heart to thud and your cunt to clench and drool into your panties, and it’s all permission you need. 

His cock throbs and jumps as you begin to fuck him with slow, deep grinds of your hips while your hands keep caressing him reverently—worshipping his warrior’s body; skimming over faded scars and scattered beauty marks while his skin breaks out in gooseflesh. 

And you’re only a few thrusts in, when his hips buck and his face twists into something akin to a pained snarl while he utters curses under his breath—though it doesn’t make you falter. 

You know that face well—it makes your stomach flutter and your lips purse in amusement. 

“Aw, you’re gonna cum again, baby? Already?” 

Not needing nor waiting for an answer, you dig your fingers into his hips, nails leaving angry red crescent moons on his skin, as you shift on your knees for a better stance before you start rocking your hips more fervently, driving the strap faster and deeper into his sopping ass. 

The bed starts creaking comically; the obscene smack of your skin against his plump ass fills the room, along with your panting breaths and his borderline whorish moans. 

Sweat trickles down the nape of your neck as you keep gripping and holding him in place on the mattress while the leather harness cuts into your skin, rubbing against the apex of your thighs and irritating your sensitive flesh—yet the pleasure you feel at seeing Johnny enjoying himself and being oh so vulnerable with you, leaves your mouth dry with want and your heart full of love and affection. 

“F-Fuck,” he grunts, gripping his shaft with a shaky hand and glossy baby blue eyes while the other curls around one post of the headboard. He tries to jerk himself, but you are swift to swat his hand away, earning a pathetic whimper. 

“No.” 

He whines at your refusal, his head drops back to bare his throat like a submissive mutt, and your thrusts falter momentarily as you reach for a pair of discarded boxers on the dishevelled mattress before bracing one hand next to his head, hips stilling while his cock throbs. 

“K-Keep movin’,” he croaks, swallowing dryly as he gazes up at you, tears brimming at his lash line. “Please.” 

Your heart stutters along with your breath. He’s so bloody gorgeous.  

“Open up,” you command, lifting the fabric to his mouth—and his eyes nearly roll back as you shove the black fabric into his mouth, gagging him and muffling another loud, throaty moan. “Good boy.” 

After giving him a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, you don’t hold back anymore. 

Your body moves on autopilot as you fuck Johnny’s ass, relishing and thriving in the way his face twists in pleasure, all this manly bulk squirming and writhing under your care while he grasps at the headboard, short nails scratching at the splintered old white paint covering the wood. 

And your own breath stutters with a ragged moan when his cry of ecstasy if muffled by the cloth in his mouth as his body goes rigid, eyes screwing shut, hairy chest heaving. 

“Come on, baby–” you’re panting in between harsh snaps of your hips, “look at me.” 

Johnny does as you ask—the brightest colour of the sky peeking out behind heavy eyelids, hazy and unfocused before they slowly roll back into his skull, pulse throbbing in his bared throat in tandem with his cock as his muscles tense once more— 

Before his second orgasm wrecks through him with violent shudders. The sight takes your own breath away. 

You’re still rocking your hips languidly as you grasp his spilling cock to pump him in the rhythm of your thrusts, causing him to groan lowly in his chest; keening and blabbering around his makeshift gag as he bucks into your stroking hand while his cum runs down your knuckles. 

Eventually, you gentle your thrusts but stay buried inside his ass; hips flush to his thighs, warm and tacky skin on skin as he continues to tremble and quake under your ministrations.  

“Beautiful,” you catch yourself uttering as you bring your messy hand up to your lips to drag your tongue over your cum-stained digits.  

Johnny’s long lashes flutter open and he groans lowly at the view of you lapping up his release from your fingers before he pulls the spit-soaked from his mouth with a huff. 

“Steamin’ fuckin’ Jesus.” 

Your shiny lips split into a pleased grin as you lean closer to put your fingers up to his lips, and he manages to look vexed for a few second before his mask crumbles, and he sucks your messy fingers into his mouth with a delighted hum while he keeps his hazy gaze on you. 

When you finally do pull out, Johnny sighs deeply; long limbs spreading out on the mattress limply while you clean up the strap before taking it off and then taking care of the mess your boyfriend made on himself. 

“Mhm, turnin’ me into a proper pillow princess, ye are.” He chuckles roughly as he curls one hand around your wrist to tuck you closer. “C’mon, lay with me, aye? Am feelin’ mighty sensible right now, luv, an’ it’s all yer bloody fault.” 

There’s a raw kind of honest behind his words, despite the mischievous twinkle returning to his eyes, and you can’t help but feel somewhat overwhelmed, too.  

He pulls you into his side, wraps you up in his arms, and you can still feel a slight tremble in his body as he holds you and buries his nose into your hair to take a deep breath. 

“I wasn’t too rough, was I? You liked it?” You caress his chest and feel his steady heartbeat under your palm which helps soothing your own frayed nerves.  

However, the pause drags on longer than you expected, and for a moment, you can feel a sudden spike of anxiety in your chest before Johnny grabs your chin to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. 

His gaze is half-lidded, tired yet sated, and a crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he drinks you in. You want to open your mouth again to say something, anything to not let all of this turn awkward now, but he beats you to it: “Aye, ah loved it.” 

Your chest deflates as you exhale through your nose while he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, crow’s feet appearing in the corner of his eyes as he smiles genuinely. 

“I love ye,” he utters then, and it takes your breath away all over again, and you swallow thickly as tears immediately brim in your eyes, turning your vision blurry as you sniffle out his name like a plea, shifting in his embrace. 

But he tightens his grip on you reflexively, keeping you close as he snickers softly. 

“Aw, c’mon, hen,” he coos and smooches your forehead as you bury your face into his neck. “Say it back, yeah?” His arms tighten around you some more, clinging to you as your tears drip onto his shoulder. “Please,” he adds quietly, vulnerably.  

You inhale a shuddering breath before you finally manage to croak out: “I love you.” 

His heartrate accelerates; you can feel it in the way his pulse is fluttering in his neck, and before you know it, you’re pushed flat onto your back with a precise shove while he hovers above you with a toothy grin. “Knew it.” 

You roll your eyes, still sniffling softly, a soft smile is gracing your lips. “You’re terrible.” 

“I’m terrible?!” He snorts, highly amused. “Ye’re the reason ah won’t be able to sit at the bloody dinner table the next two days, m’love.” And he leans in to brush his nose against yours. “Say it again, aye? One more time f’me, hen.” 

You purse your lips, tempted to let him work for it, though the smitten look on his face makes you cave. “I love you, John MacTavish.” 

He sucks in a sharp breath at your declaration before he dives in to capture your lips in a bruising, all-consuming kiss while your arms snake around his neck, unable to do more but whimper as you part your lips to let him in. 

“Love ye, too,” he mutters, swallowing each sweet noise of yours as he nudges your thighs apart with his bad knee. “M’gonna show ye how much.” 

[changeling-droneco]

Hi I'm that person who made the original post about "no doesn mean no" when a small bit of the mr beast company document was leaked, well, now we have the full document (thanks rosanna) so I'm going to go over it. Please note I am not a lawyer or a business man, I'm in college for psychology, so I might misunderstand some things or make the wrong conclusion. However, if this is a document made for the average mr. beast employee, if I cannot understand it properly, then im sure some employees also struggled

First of all, the opening paragraph. Like I get it's supposed to be like, to put people at ease, but

This is so strange? Like, first of all, this is your EMPLOYEE MANUAL, you should have run it through like, a spell check? Or had someone edit it? This is already incredibly unprofessional. Also the promising of a thousand dollars if you pass a quiz on it? It's bizarre and I'd love to see if it's an actual quiz.

Jimmy, hun, please god get an editor for this you're already trying my patience.

YOU SHOULD, you genuinely should, while interconnected these are all COMPLETELY different jobs, if you think you could write a separate manual for each branch you SHOULD

I'm sure I'm about to get an answer but what the fuck is the best YOUTUBE video then? If it's not comedy, its not production, its not quality, its not look, then what the hell is left? (monetization, it's monetization)

First of all, Jimmy, why are you using internet lingo in this, it's not a text message, this is not a place for, idc, and lol, and not capitalizing your headers correctly??? Also like I said, he's chasing trends for monetization, and also he's just wrong, there are plenty of hollywood level shows and the like on youtube. You fully admit you do not care about trends and actively rush things?

This is just fucked??? Like of COURSE IT MATTERS??? Results based company is bullshit, your employees that worked for five weeks and failed aren't "lesser" then James, it's a structural failure! They still worked for HOURS to try and succeed?? That shows merit and loyalty??? What the fuck???

Rosanna covers this one in her video but it's worth restating that this is FUCKED??? It's clear overwork "your job is your family" culture. Especially the use of the word obsessive? If you do not OBSESS over your work, you are considered poisonous. NO WONDER we have so many reports of employees doing things they feel is dangerous or unsafe, if they don't they're considered POISON to the company.

The formatting in this doc continues to fucking kill me, what are you DOING man GET AN EDITOR

This feels like such an easy fix of just...make the thumbnail after the fact? Or only make a rough draft of one first? Like if production makes a red bouncy castle instead of a yellow one, that feels like an easy fix to the thumbnail OR a communication error, and again, that's on management

A lot of the next stuff is like analytics stuff that for the most part I can't really speak on as someone who does not do any of this stuff. There are a few things though

Which like???? what??? a lull??? what do you mean "watching a video without even realizing they are watching a video??" That doesn't scream good or even mediocre content to me. If I'm actively tuning out as I watch a video, that's bad. Especially because there have been plenty of times I've been like half way through a video i go "hey this sucks actually" and click off. They actively want their audience to not be paying attention to the video so it runs all the way through, that's kinda pathetic.

I don't actually know if this is common or not in this industry, but as an outsider this seems INCREDIBLY micromanaging to me, to an immense degree.

Jimmy why are you putting swears in your employee manual?? sir??? and also something about this whole thing icks me out, I don't quite have the words but the whole emphasis on "im different im special no one else can be me" just reeks of something kind of manipulative

Why is production changing so much Jimmy??? Infinite growth is the mindset of a cancer cell Jimmy! This is incredibly unstable working conditions! Also again with the word obsession, if you take time out of your own day on your own time to watch hulu, that's seen as not being obsessed enough for the company. This is nonsensical!

Again, this is INSANELY micromanaging, and also so fucking unhinged??? "God himself couldn't stop you from making this video on time" is NOT a healthy work mindset, things HAPPEN!!!

In this segment he's actually talking normal things but I did just want to highlight his use of "freaken" who the hell puts that in an EMPLOYEE MANUEL

Again with the micromanaging, and the immense pressure on employees for problems OTHER people do. While he's not fully wrong that you should be in more contact with the contractor then the example, this is too much in the other direction. How much time in the day does he think people have?!

My kingdom for a fucking paragraph break dude, my fucking eyes. Also this is a lot of "im so great and do everything and you should do more for me and if i dont know something that's your fault" for something titled "I am not always right"

I'm getting lazy with my highlighting, but again, the micromanaging? If you're SOOO busy, the first question should be the ideal? it's quick and makes a quick decision, while the second one meanders and meanders

Again, Jimmy is pushing blame for HIS mistakes on OTHER PEOPLE. For again, a section called "i am not always right" hes taking NO accountability for that and just making the SAME excuses he's berating in other places.

I can't even tell what he means here AN EDITOR JIMMY

Autism Hell tm, PLEASE email me so I can DOUBLE CHECK IT, things in writing are SO useful

Again the language towards "C-Players" which as mr beast has said, are the people who y'know, are NORMAL employees who DON'T live and breathe this company

Okay first of all, a Lamborghini is like 300k so that's already A REALLY hard task, and i sure hope don't usually put typos in the tasks. SECOND of all the fact he thinks its okay to go "hey if the studio is literally on fire around you and you stop working to get the Lamborghini, you're not doing good enough" even if he claims it as a joke is NOT OKAY what the FUCK

We've covered this before, but to reiterate this segment is named after a sexual assault reference when it could have been named ANYTHING ELSE and harasses employees and pressures them to break rules, don't do that.

I'm not an editor, so maybe this is normal, but as someone from the outside it seems strange to put this much emphasis on dividing focus between so many videos at once.

Jimmy, hun, are you paying extra for this? Because if I'm an editor and you want me FILMING stuff then i want to be paid more for doing TWO jobs and I probably still wont be as skilled a TRAINED CAMERA MAN

First of all now THAT'S a type, consteatants. Also the fact they are aware that leaving contestants out in the sun is bad, why are you not doing MORE TO STOP IT BEYOND "hey maybe giving them three hours of heatstroke is bad, try only two next time"

Don't we love favoritism, more shitty unprofessional writings, and a completely unstable work environment?

If your people have to pull all nighters period something is wrong, and if something happens to an employees car that could have seriously hurt someone, i sure hope you care more then just "LOL FUNNY" Who's picking up the broken glass? Who's reimbursing the car owner? That one meme of "your first care should be commitment to the bit" is a MEME jimmy, it's not ACTUAL ADVICE

Ah shit I hit image limit, well, you've seen enough screenshots to know these are screenshots, we're almost done I'll put them in as quotes

"Let’s say you are tasked with finding us a castle to live in for 50 hours and while doing research you find a castle and a number to call for the owner. So you do call, and he answers. Only problem is he says he quit the castle renting business to pursue his dream of building a 100 foot tall lego catapult. You can obviously tell where i’m going with this. Ideally you’d recognize that’s badass as fuck and try to convince him to let us use it when we do find a castle. This is a bad example because it’s so obvious but if you’re doing your job right you will be doing an absurd amounts of calls and data collecting. While trying to complete your prios and prepare for the video you should always be on the lookout for new things you can bring to your creative team to inspire them. Because just like me, they don’t know what they don’t know and you can’t just say “i’m in production and i’m not very creative” because that’s literally the equivalent of saying I suck at what I do. You also need to apply this same mindset when problem solving because many people lose sight of this stuff when in the weeds. If a problem appears, always always always ask yourself if your new plan is whats best for creative, not just the easiest bandaid."

First of all it's really funny seeing all the red lines pop up, second of all this insistent blurring of everyone's job seems so strange? Again maybe this is normal, but it really feels like Jimmy wants everyone working every job, instead on focusing on what they are actually hired to do.

"What is the goal of our content?

To excite me. The goal of our content is to excite me. That may sound weird to some of you, especially if you’re new but to me it’s what’s most important. If I'm not excited to get in front of that camera and film the video, it’s just simply not going to happen."

That's fucking weirddddd, like I get that he's trying to be like "im authentic" but it always feels like a bad sign when the goal of a company is literally just "What amuses the boss" like...bad sign

"this is youtube and there are constraints. You know the video can’t be a minute so you’re obviously going to need a story to hold the viewers and there are rules to storytelling. Our audience is massive and because of that you have to be simple, for 50 million people to understand something it must be simple. Content can be anything but there is structure and rules that we must mold it into that I want to teach you about, because virality doesn’t just happen. Every frame of our videos will be seen by 10s of millions of people"

Gross

"I'd say the average MrBeast viewer is a teenage memer that likes video games."

Mr Beast is completely aware of his demographic and puts screen shots of it, he is very aware his stuff is aimed at kids, even when its about gambling or hiring people not around near minors

"I feel silly for having to write this but all the time I talk to 32 new people that have at most seen like 5 or 6 of our videos and it’s mind blowing that they don’t see a problem with that lol."

It's almost like your audience is teenage memer and that people who working here are not in fact, teenage memers.

"What you consume on social media, when you watch youtube, tv, the games you play, etc. are what I like to call your information diet.

How do you stay up to date on the latest memes? How do you know what’s going on with celebrities? What’s trending on youtube? What other creators are doing? What’s popping on tik tok? Your information diet. Consume things on a daily basis that help you write better content."

If my job as a creative writer had my boss tell me to have to see whats "popping on tik tok" as part of my job i'd quit also again, the micromanaging of someone's life as well pops up again, it's weirddd

"It’s okay for the boys to be childish

If talent wants to draw a dick on the white board in the video or do something stupid, let them. (assuming they know all the risks and arn’t missing context on why it’s not safe) People like when we are in our natural element of stupidity. Really do everything you can to empower the boys when filming and help them make content. Help them be idiots"

More favoritism

"If you’ve made it this far you are probably at least semi interested in this being your career. So I wanted to chat about it. Because if you're ambitious and want to dedicate your life to work, you picked the best company in America to do it at. I really don’t care to hoard a bunch of money and I deeply believe in rewarding the people that help this business get where it needs to be. But before I get into that, let’s talk about the future. As I write this we have 2 teams, that will grow to 4 in the next year. (and possibly 8 in the next 2 years but I can’t talk about that cause james will kill me haha). We need more leaders in the company. Weneed hard working, obsessive, coachable, intelligent, grinders that can step up and take some of these leadership spots over the next 2 years. Every single department has an opportunity for you to grow in and you’re in luck because we don’t do yearly reviews. We do whenever the fuck you want reviewes"

Lack of communication from management, and more emphasis on grinding and crunch culture, goodie, all while riddled with typos! God.

"I see a world where this company is worth billions and one day 10s of billions. And those of you that help build this will be rewarded. I want nothing more then for you to go all in, obsessive all day everyday, and become so god dam valuable this company can’t operate without you. And in return for becoming so valuable I hope to give you incredible experiences, a fun place to work, and of course, more money then you could ever dream of making at any other company."

I feel like I'm reading a fucking pyramid scheme document here, "youre so so valuable spend literally every minute of every day on this company haha" good GOD man