#this made me really realize how small his torso is

[just-a-drawing-bean]

Felt like practicing biblically accurate Sun, he's so silly <3

[heliosunny]

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Phainon x reader

The rumors were true.

You stood in front of the large, polished machine, its sleek metallic surface reflecting the soft neon glow of the surrounding marketplace. The “Lucky Egg Dispenser” as it was called, had become something of a sensation overnight. A single pull of the trigger, and you’d receive an egg—an unhatched mystery promising the perfect partner. Most people spoke of rare creatures, companion animals with unique abilities, and even a few who whispered about something… stranger.

“Lucky egg?” you mused aloud, shifting the weight of the gun-like trigger in your grip. You’d always been one to try new things. It didn’t hurt to take a chance.

With a decisive motion, you squeezed the trigger.

A soft whirring sound filled the air before a pristine white egg gently rolled out, stopping perfectly at your feet. You crouched down, picking it up. Warm. Alive.

A small smile tugged at your lips. Taking care of it would be simple, you were no stranger to nurturing things. Three days. That was all it would take for it to hatch.

You weren’t worried in the slightest.

What you didn’t expect, however, was for your “partner” to be a human.

The egg hatched in the dead of night. A soft crackling sound stirred you from your sleep, but by the time you were fully awake, the shell had already split apart.

And there, sitting on your bed, was a boy.

No, not a boy, a young man, probably around your age.

Pale skin, silver-white hair that shimmered in the moonlight, and brilliant, otherworldly eyes. His clothes were odd, somewhere between regal and alien, but the most alarming thing was the wide, almost manic grin stretching across his face.

Before you could react, he lunged at you, arms wrapping around your torso in a crushing embrace.

“My name is Phainon!” he chirped, his voice filled with unfiltered joy. “I’m your partner now!”

Oh no...Your stomach dropped as realization set in.

Baby duck syndrome.

You knew the term well. When a newborn creature imprints on the first living being they see and attaches to them completely. You were that first living being.

And judging by the way Phainon’s grip tightened, as if he’d never let go, you had a feeling this wasn’t going to be as simple as you thought.

Phainon clung to you like a vice, his grip almost bruising as he buried his face into your neck. His breath was warm, uneven with excitement, and his entire body trembled, not with fear, but something far more intense.

“You’re mine” he whispered, his voice filled with unshakable certainty. “I belong to you… and you belong to me.”

This was bad. You tried to gently pry him off, but the moment you moved, his arms locked around you tighter, his fingers digging into your back as if he were afraid you’d disappear. His blue eyes, impossibly bright and alight with something unsettling, gazed up at you with an overwhelming adoration.

“Don’t push me away” Phainon begged “I just hatched… I need you.”

You swallowed, carefully adjusting your expression. “I-I’m not pushing you away. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

His gaze flickered with doubt before softening, though his grip didn’t loosen.

“I won’t let you leave me” he promised, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “I was born for you.”

You had really gotten yourself into trouble this time.

With Phainon practically glued to your side, you dragged him along to the dungeon. You needed supplies, and in this world, the only way to survive was by hunting monsters and trading points for food and goods. At the very least, you thought you could shake off some of his energy by keeping him occupied. What you didn’t expect was just how powerful he was.

The first monster barely had a chance to move before Phainon lunged, his bare hands tearing through it like paper. Blue eyes shimmered with an eerie thrill as he made quick work of the beasts around you. No hesitation. No struggle. Just raw, overwhelming strength. You stared, a mix of awe and unease settling in your gut.

“Phainon…” You hesitated as he turned to you, still grinning. “How do you know how to fight?”

He tilted his head, as if the question itself was strange. “I was born to protect you” he answered simply. “If anything dares to harm you, I’ll rip it apart.”

His words were spoken with such sincerity that it made your skin crawl. Still, you couldn’t deny the convenience. With him by your side, earning points was absurdly easy.

So you took him to the marketplace, trading in your earnings and buying him new clothes, something normal, something that would help him blend in.

But as you held up a shirt for him to try, he only stared at you with an unsettling softness.

“You take such good care of me…” He exhaled, stepping closer. “You really do love me.”

Your grip on the fabric tightened.

This was going to be a problem.

Even as you weaved through the marketplace, his fingers curled around your wrist, grip firm and unwavering. His blue eyes scanned the crowd with silent intensity, watching every passerby with something between wariness and irritation, as if anyone who so much as looked at you was a potential threat.

You sighed, trying to ignore it.

That was until someone called your name.

“Y/N!”

You turned, spotting an old friend making their way toward you, smiling. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Before you could respond, their gaze flickered to Phainon, eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“…Oh? Who’s this?” they asked, raising an eyebrow. “Your boyfriend?”

You couldn’t exactly say he came from an egg. That would sound insane. So, against your better judgment, you went along with it. “Uh, yeah. Something like that.”

Your friend chuckled. “I figured. He looks like he’d kill someone if they so much as breathed in your direction.”

You let out an awkward laugh, hoping they were joking.

Phainon, however, only smiled, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I would” he murmured, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your friend’s laughter faltered.

Before the situation could get any worse, you quickly made your exit, dragging Phainon away.

When you finally got home, you sighed, rubbing your temples. “You can’t just say things like that, you know.”

Phainon tilted his head. “But it’s true.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, you busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing a meal. The sound of chopping and sizzling filled the space, and for a moment, things felt… normal.

But you could still feel Phainon’s admiring gaze on you.

When you finally placed a plate in front of him, his eyes softened.

“You take such good care of me” he murmured.

You forced a small smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just eat.”

But as you turned away, his voice reached you again, quiet, almost innocent.

“You really do love me, don’t you?”

This was getting worse by the second.

The next morning, Phainon was already awake before you, sitting at the edge of your bed, watching you with silent fascination. You ignored the unsettling feeling that came with knowing he had likely been staring at you for a while.

“We’re going out!” you said, stretching. “I need to figure out what you’re actually capable of.”

His expression brightened. “You’re thinking about me first thing in the morning?” His voice was honeyed, pleased. “That makes me happy.”

You sighed. “Just get ready.”

Despite his odd behavior, you needed to assess his skills properly. Yesterday’s display of strength was impressive, but you weren’t sure if he had magic abilities as well. If he was going to fight alongside you, he needed the right weapon.

So, you took him to a well-known weapon shop in the city.

The place was stocked with everything—swords, spears, enchanted items, and magic-infused equipment. The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow at Phainon as he trailed closely behind you, practically glued to your side.

“A new recruit?” they asked.

You hesitated before nodding. “Something like that. I need to test his capabilities and get him a sword.”

Phainon didn’t seem too interested in the conversation. Instead, his attention remained locked onto you, his fingers subtly brushing against your arm as if to remind himself that you were still there.

The shopkeeper guided you both to the testing grounds in the back.

Phainon barely glanced at the weapons lined up for testing. Instead, he turned to you, expectant.

“Choose one for me” he said.

You blinked. “Why? You should pick what feels right.”

He smiled “I want your choice. Something that reminds you of me.”

You hesitated, but eventually, you picked a sword. When you handed it to him, he held it as if it were sacred, his fingers running over the hilt with reverence. Then, he turned toward the practice dummy and swung. The air itself seemed to hum as the blade sliced cleanly through, the force of his strike strong enough to split the dummy in two. You barely had time to react before the lingering energy from his swing crackled, a faint shimmer of magic lacing through the air.

So he did have magic.

The shopkeeper let out a low whistle. “That’s some terrifying raw talent.”

Phainon ignored them, stepping closer to you, lifting the sword slightly.

“Do you like it?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “It suits you.”

His eyes softened, a quiet sort of delight settling in his expression. “Then I’ll treasure it forever.”

It wasn’t about the sword. It was about the fact that you were the one who gave it to him.

Going into the dungeon with Phainon was like having a high-level DPS at your side. You barely had to lift a finger.

With every swing of his sword, monsters fell instantly, torn apart before they could even react. His raw strength was unmatched, his movements precise and brutal, and his magic crackled through the air with every strike. All you had to do was keep him healed.

Whenever he took a hit, rare as it was, you were there, casting healing spells or applying potions before he could even flinch. It was almost effortless, and the way he looked at you every time you healed him sent a strange chill down your spine.

“You always take care of me” he murmured, after you placed a hand on his arm to patch up a small wound. His blue eyes burned with something unreadable. “It makes me love you even more.”

You pretended not to hear him.

By the end of the run, you had racked up an absurd amount of points. It was more than you’d ever earned in a single trip. But as you left the dungeon, your path was blocked. A group of men stood in front of you, their expressions dark with anger.

“You!” one of them spat, eyes locked on you. “That was our dungeon route. You took our points.”

You stiffened. You had heard of people like this before, territorial dungeon crawlers who claimed certain areas as their own, even though the dungeons were free for all. Phainon, however, only tilted his head, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword.

“Move” he said simply.

The men sneered. “Or what?”

Phainon smiled. And then, in the blink of an eye, he moved.

You barely saw it happen. One second, the men were standing tall, and the next, they were on the ground, groaning, writhing, clutching broken limbs. Phainon hadn’t even drawn his sword. He had simply crushed them with his bare hands. You felt the blood drain from your face as he turned back to you, expression calm, as if nothing had happened.

“You don’t need to worry about them” he stepped close to you, his voice almost soothing. “I’ll always protect you.”

His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin.

“You’ll never need anyone else.”

You weren’t the only one who noticed Phainon’s strength.

Word spread fast in the city. A newcomer, practically fresh out of nowhere, tearing through dungeons with monstrous efficiency? It was bound to catch attention.

When you returned to the marketplace, a group of uniformed individuals was waiting for you. Their armor bore the insignia of the Adventurer’s Guild, the organization that oversaw dungeon crawlers and regulated combat prowess.

One of them, a woman with sharp eyes, stepped forward. “We’ve received reports about you” she said, looking Phainon up and down. “Your combat abilities are… unusual.”

Phainon didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink.

The woman continued, unfazed. “We’d like to evaluate your rank. If you’re as strong as people claim, you should be registered with the guild.”

You hesitated, then glanced at Phainon. “It’s up to you” you said casually. “You can decide for yourself.”

His reaction was immediate. His blue eyes snapped to yours, wide with something unreadable. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if suppressing an impulse.

For the first time since you met him, Phainon looked… lost.

“You’re letting me decide?” he murmured, almost as if the concept itself was foreign to him. His voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of something dangerous beneath it.

The guild members watched the exchange, waiting for an answer.

Then, without warning, Phainon grabbed your wrist. His grip was firm but not painful—more like an anchor, something grounding him.

“I don’t need them!” he said, his eyes darkening. “I don’t need a rank. I don’t need recognition. I only need you.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Phainon...”

But he wasn’t listening. His fingers tightened ever so slightly, as if reassuring himself that you were still there, still his.

“I’ll prove it” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’ll see… I don’t need anything else.”

The woman from the guild frowned. “Refusing to register might cause problems later. If you change your mind, come to the guild hall.” She gave you a lingering look before turning away, leading her team elsewhere.

Once they were gone, you exhaled, glancing down at your guild-issued device. You hadn’t checked Phainon’s stats since he hatched. Opening the interface, your breath caught in your throat. His level had skyrocketed. It wasn’t just growth, it was unnatural. No one leveled up this fast. Slowly, you looked up at him, finding him already staring at you.

His lips curled into a soft, knowing smile. “You’re looking at me differently” he murmured. “Are you finally realizing it?”

Realizing what?

Phainon wasn’t just strong. He was something else.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Phainon’s level growth wasn’t just unnatural, it was impossible. Even the most elite adventurers took years to reach his current strength, yet he had done it in mere days. And his reaction when you let him decide for himself… the way he clung to you, as if the very idea of autonomy was foreign to him… Something wasn’t right.

That night, while Phainon sat contentedly by the fireplace, watching you with that ever-present devotion, you busied yourself with research.

You poured through old adventurer logs, ancient texts, and anything that might explain the anomaly that was him. But no record of a “lucky egg” spawning a human existed. Every instance of the machine had resulted in creatures—beasts, familiars, magical companions. Never a person. Then, deep within an old archive, you found something.

A passage detailing an experiment.

“In pursuit of the perfect companion, scholars once sought to craft an entity bound by absolute devotion. A being that would imprint upon the first soul it encountered, instinctively prioritizing their happiness and survival above all else. However, these creations proved unstable—obsessive, possessive, and far too powerful. The project was ultimately abandoned, all records sealed away.”

Your gaze flickered toward Phainon.

His blue eyes gleamed in the firelight, calm and unreadable as he met your stare.

“You’re looking at me like that again”

“Phainon…” You swallowed. “What are you?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer.

Then, slowly, he rose from his seat, walking toward you with measured steps. When he reached you, he knelt—his head resting against your lap, his arms wrapping around you in a loose embrace.

“I don’t know” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But does it matter?”

He tilted his head, pressing closer, his warmth seeping into you.

“All I know is that I belong to you” he murmured, smiling softly. “And that’s the only truth I need.”

Your fingers trembled against the pages of the book.

This was worse than you thought.

Phainon wasn’t just obsessed.

He was made to be.

[slu7formen]

reader whos got a thing for luke’s hands. she can never stop staring at them. sucks on his fingers whenever she gets the chance. loves to feel him grip her cheeks

luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: finger sucking, chocking

₊˚⊹♡

You needed to say things you couldn't say out loud. Filthy and naughty things.

Your eyes were fixated on the way he played with his ring, sitting so casually leaned over his knees as he spoke to a friend. His green veins popping out of his hands, following a delicious path to his forearms, disappearing into his biceps. His knuckles were bony, a little crooked, like he's been cracking them all his life, prominent even with the thickness of his slender and long fingers. 

Callouses decorated the rough skin of his palms, a sign of hard training and his usual rawness to it. A few white scars and marks scattered around the tanned skin of his wrist. He mentioned something about a cut when you asked about it.

You couldn't stop, you were obsessed. You were obsessed with Luke Castellan's hands.

You were always distracted because of them, especially during these campfire nights, the moment in which you saw Luke the most. He always sat close to you, something besides you, and you tried to look into his eyes. You really fucking tried. But then you saw him moving, his hands playing with the rings, the way his fingers tapped the grass, how his veins moved and you were gone.

You were fucking gone, and it was so embarrassing.

Luke noticed you, of course he did. You were always looking at him, your eyes glued to his figure and you were so easy to read. Your blush, the way you were leaning towards him, your gaze, how you would sometimes bite the inside of your cheek when he caught you staring. He loved every second of it.

You didn't even know when it started, or why. Maybe it was the way they looked, maybe the way he moved them, maybe his knuckles, maybe the scars. How manly they were. Gods-, did you love something manly. It could have been anything, but it was just the fact that it was his hands. For some reason you had a thing for it, and it sounded so good. A thing. Something tickled in your brain every time you thought about it; having a thing for something is fun. It's thrilling, it's sexy.

A thing for someone's hands. It made you want to laugh.

"You have beautiful hands" you said once, the words coming out so easily, but you were shaking with anticipation. Your voice was weak, and Luke's hand, which was tapping his thigh, stopped.

"My hands?" His eyebrows rose a little, a small chuckle leaving his lips. He looked down at them, as if there were new limbs on his body.

You nodded. "Yes."

He laughed again, looking at you with an amused expression. "You like my hands." It was a statement. He wasn't asking, but the words still had a question in them. Your throat tightened, your eyes widening at the realization. He noticed. "Why?"

You were frozen. What could you say? I think you have the hottest hands I have ever seen? I think about them touching me all the time? No, it was too embarrassing to say. Yet.

"I don't know, they´re just...nice." You shrugged, trying to make your tone as casual as possible. You didn't want him to think you were obsessed.

But the thing is, you were obsessed. You were so fucking obsessed.

Luke laughed again, shaking his head a little. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

It was silent after that. He kept looking at his hands, playing with them and watching you out of the corner of his eye. Maybe you liked them because he knew you liked them. Or maybe it was the fact that you felt them even through your skin when he was on top of you, his body caging you against the mattress, hands spreading as he gripped your torso. They were warm against your skin, and you wanted more.

You wanted them everywhere.

You loved to feel his callouses on your cheeks when he held you, leaving a tickle behind and some goosebumps along the way. You just lost it when he held you, when he caressed his thumbs against your cheeks as his eyes pierced through you. When he held your face with just a hand, his fingers gripping tightly on the hot flesh of your cheeks, all you could fantasize about was him leading that same hand lower, pressing with the same affection over your neck, feeling your pulse in his palm.

They were big, and strong. And you couldn't help but imagine what they could do. What he could do. You knew he was skilled, he had to be, because you couldn't let yourself believe that all those stories about him stealing little pieces of "some things" and opening closed locks without getting caught were fake.

He was a master at this, and he had to be.

He chuckled above you. A cocky grin appeared on his face; he knew what you were thinking. His hands, his hands. You were so fucked. And he knew, and it made him feel smug. It made him feel proud. That you were this much into him.

"Let's see," he said suddenly, catching your attention. "Since you like them so much..."

He trailed off, his voice going deeper. A chill went up your spine as you stared into his eyes, the color of them being consumed by his blown pupils. His tongue licked his bottom lip, a sign of lust.

His knuckles brushed your right cheek, slowly, so slowly. It was soft and careful; a light caress and you couldn't help but close your eyes. It felt too good, too good. It was such a small thing, a little touch, yet it felt so intimate. But you wanted more. You wanted his hand to move, you wanted to feel the warmth of his skin, the roughness. You wanted his hand to be wrapped around your neck, choking you.

You shifted your head over the pillows, your shiny eyes doing all the hard work on avoiding looking at his hand, but maintaining your gaze on his. You slowly found your way to his fingers, swollen lips brushing against the thick skin of his thumb. You saw his jaw clench, holding himself back to stop whatever it is that you wanted to do.

When he pulls down on your bottom lip, it's enough for you to start. He lets you do as you please, watching intently the way you wrap your mouth around two of his fingers. How you suck on them, your lips coated and using your tongue, letting him know exactly what you could do with him. Your tongue eagerly, but softly, taking your time as he does nothing but stay still, and stare.

That gloss you decided to wear was long smushed, yet some shiny little thing lingered on your bottom lip. It was a sinful image to Luke’s eyes, making him think about situations he couldn’t do.

Yet.

He loves watching you do these things, knowing it's all for him, knowing that he makes you this hungry. He can't help but smirk, his cock twitching inside his jeans when your eyes close. The sight of you is so overwhelming, he can't control himself. He's just a guy, he has a limit, and you're crossing it. Just like you always did.

"You're making a mess, sweetheart."

He pushes them in slowly, carefully. You saw his lips part in excitation, his jaw tensing once again as he held his entire figure back, trying his best not to take you right there and then. Pressing them against your tongue, he drags them forward, the tip of his fingers nearly making you gag.

A deep and guttural sound leaves his throat, his voice hoarse, and it makes you feel the heat between your legs grow. Why the fuck would you care about some mess now? You're lost in your own head because of him, the way his hand feels, the way his fingers taste, his breathy chuckles, his heavy gaze, everything. This was his fault.

As much as you don't want to stop, you pull away slowly, a thin string of saliva breaking just a second after your lips left his digits.

"You like messy"

You didn't have time to react, he was quick to press it against your throat. You gasped at the sudden action, but not a second later you relaxed. You could feel the wetness on your skin, how the spit cooled under his touch, his hand wrapping tightly around the tender flesh of your neck. A groan escaped your lips, and the sound of it turned Luke on, a smirk spreading through his features.

"I do" he whispered.

[minswriting]

virgin!spencer + dryhumping 😩🙏

nsfw | mdni | spencer reid x reader | you wake up to spencer humping your thigh, somnophilia (?)

you and spencer have been dating for a few months and haven’t really done anything sexual yet. you’ve made out, groped one another, but haven’t really gone farther than that. it wasn’t much of an issue for you. spencer was a virgin and you wanted to ensure he was ready before initiating anything.

which is why it surprised you when you woke up in the middle of the night, entangled in spencer’s arms as he rutted his cock against your thigh in his sleep. you knew he wasn’t awake, judging by the way his lips were parted and face still relaxed. but the subtle movement his of hips against your thigh certainly didn’t go unnoticed.

you laid there for a moment, unsure of what to do before gently bringing your hand to spencer’s cheek and caressing it. “spencer,” you whispered softly, knowing he was a pretty light sleeper.

“hmm?” he hummed, taking a deep breath before opening his eyes, his face showing that he had just woken up. “is everything okay? what’s up?” he said groggily.

you pursed your lips for a moment, glancing down at how spencer had his legs intertwined with yours and his cock still pressed against your thigh, before looking back at spencer. “good dream?” you asked.

and suddenly, spencer blushed deeply as he realized why you had woken him up. he had been rubbing his cock against you while dreaming about fucking you. he was about to pull away, to scurry off of you and get up but you stopped him, putting a hand on his torso to keep him still. “i-i-i’m so sorry,” spencer stuttered out, looking embarrassed.

“why are you sorry?” you asked softly, biting your bottom lip.

“because i was just rubbing myself against you,” spencer squeaked out, still very much embarrassed. he groaned, wanting to desperately to just go and hide.

“tell me what you were dreaming about, baby.” you murmured, looking at spencer with a gaze that spencer couldn’t quite understand, causing him to pause his internal freak out.

“why?” he whispered.

“because you’re still so hard and i want to hear what you were dreaming about,” you practically purred as you maneuvered yourself so that spencer’s cock was pressed against your clothed cunt.

the action caused spencer to whimper as realization hit him that you liked it. you liked that he was rutting against you in his sleep. “you,” spencer said as his voice cracked.

“what about me, baby?”

spencer let out a shaky breath as he gripped your waist. “i-i was dreaming about h-having sex with you,” he whispered as though it was a life changing secret. he couldn’t help the jolt of his hips as he thought about fucking you again, the dream still prominent on his brain. that small action caused you both to let out whimpers as he rubbed his cock against your clothed cunt.

you swallowed, moving your hips gently against spencer’s. “yeah?” you breathed out. “i’d love to have sex with you.”

spencer couldn’t help the whine that left his lips as you started moving your hips against his cock. the feeling was so much, so new to him and yet he adored it. “want to feel you around me so bad,” he moaned quietly. he moved his hips in sync with yours, not caring about anything else when your clothed cunt felt so good against his clothed cock.

you hummed in response. “i can’t wait to finally feel you inside of me,” you whispered, leaning in to press your lips against spencer’s. “been fingering myself so much thinking about your cock.”

and that was all spencer needed to hear before he let out a choked moan and pressed himself against you even more as his hips stuttered and he came in his pajama pants. “o-oh my-“ he said, throwing his head back. you continued to move against him, letting him ride out his orgasm before stopping.

you grinned as you looked at spencer. seeing him cum was the hottest thing you have witnessed. and it was safe to say that after that, neither of you waited much longer to finally have sex together.

[redhoodsdeer]

dizzy (aka clumsy reader x protective jason)

civil!reader x jason todd

prompt: jason and his really clumsy girlfriend who is so used to her bruises from simply bumping around, that she forgets that it's not exactly the usual for other people to walk around with bruises. jason who isn't exactly happy to see his girlfriend hurt and makes it his new mission to take care of her.

a/n: that one i think it looks really cute, i'm also a really clumsy person, so it was pretty easy to come out with this one, him taking care of her was just so cute, i can sleep better knowing that they got eachother, anyways, english is not my first language, hope you guys enjoy it ❤️

Jason was used to bruises and injuries, part of the job he chose, but he didn't expect that on a cold thursday night, he would find his girlfriend with a bandaged wrist and bruises all over her body, some that even looked old. He expected even less that she would give him a bright smile and run to hug him as if everything was normal, what he didn't know was that bruises and a bandaged wrist were just everyday nonsense for the clumsy girl.

"Honey, what happened to your wrist? Did someone hurt you?" he asks, carefully picking up her injured wrist to take a look, a worried expression on his face, his brow furrowed as he studies it. "Oh, it's nothing, I just got distracted and fell on it, it's okay."

And Jason looked at her face with a huge question mark on his face. "Did you fall on your own arm?" he said looking more and more confused. "Yeah? It was no big deal, really, I've had worse. Come in, i made hot chocolate" she said with the brightest smile on her face, as if she didn't have a fractured wrist.

He followed her into the apartment, the confusion never leaving his face as he slowly closed the door and followed her into the kitchen. Before he could even reach the cozy kitchen, he heard a soft groan of pain, followed by a muttered curse.

He rushes into the kitchen, afraid that she was hurt, even more hurt. And he was right, when he came inside, he found two colorful mugs of boiling chocolate with small marshmallows on the counter, some of the very same hot chocolate spilled around, and his girlfriend, with the hand that was not bandaged, under the cold running water of the sink, with a light burn on the torso of her hand.

"Love? What happened?" he asks, getting closer to her so he can see the injury more clearly. "Nothing serious, Jay, just a lil' burn, i'll be fine, just give me a minute to clean it up." she says, smiling and looking really calm for someone who just burned her own hand.

And as she moves to grab the rag to clean everything up, she bumps into the counter, holding onto it to steady herself, and it hits him, something finally clicks. All the times he watched her get hurt, bump into something or someone, get burned, fall awkwardly, it's too many to count.

She made a joke or two about being a distracted person and clumsy, but he didn't realize how much until now.

He smiled slightly as he watched his girlfriend try to balance the two mugs, knowing how this would end terribly, taking the mugs from her hand. "Honey, go sit on the couch, I'll take these." He noticed her frown, already starting to protest. "You don't have to do this, Jay, I want to help." But he was already interrupting her. "Sweetheart, please, you're going to help me by going sit on the couch." She huffed slightly but went anyway, sitting down and waiting for him to come right behind with the mugs, he put the mugs on the coffee table and went towards the bathroom to get the burn ointment.

And from that point, it just became a routine, her clumsily hurting herself, him taking care of her right after, and at some point it was like he had a sixth sense of when she was going to get hurt, being a vigilante also helped a lot with his reflexes.

So, they were walking down the street and she tripped? His arm was around her before her body could even dream of falling. They were cooking and she was cutting something? The knife was out of her hand before she could cut herself, and he told her to do something safer, like opening the dough.

And just like that, it became something of his, caring for her and looking out for her, knowing how to take care of her when she got hurt, and knowing how to stop her from getting hurt, and for that, she was eternally grateful.

[usoppsstar]

Op men when you wear a revealing bikini🥥🥥🥥

Pairings: One piece men x f!usually modest!reader

Characters: Luffy, Sabo, Law, Kid

Tw: suggestive themes but nothing explicit/food in Luffy's

Notes: these are headcannons and short stories; law is a horny dweeb; I went a little overboard with Luffy and Sabo's I think; law's gets the dirtiest; this is proofread but there may still be mistakes🥥🥥🥥

🥥Luffy

He's playing with Usopp when he sees his jaw drop, so he turns around to see what he's looking at.

Believe it or not,Luffy's eyes widen a little when he sees what you're in. It is surprising. For the most part you cover yourself pretty thoroughly unless it's a hot day and even then your torso is usually covered, and any shorts or skirts you wear don't venture much further than your knees.

So Luffy is actually just the tiniest bit stunned when you walk onto the beach clad in one of Nami's bikinis, a cute bralette with a few strings doing a poor job of covering your cleavage, and bottoms that hang dangerously low on your hips.

It's not necessarily that he's seeing a lot of skin, Luffy doesn't really notice things like that and the majority of your crew walk around borderline topless anyway. In terms of the other ladies on board,Nami and Robin dress pretty revealing all of the time and Luffy's never cared, so no, it's that he's seeing a lot of your skin.

Unconsciously stares at you. It's mostly out of curiosity but he does like what he sees. Will probably embarrass you by blatantly checking you out for a bit, since Sanji has made it clear that he's not allowed to touch, and take in parts of you that he never gets to see. He'll likely forget that he feels a way and get back to goofing off after getting sprayed by Usopp, but throughout the day, whenever he wraps an arm around you or you bump or press into him, he's conscious of how much he's really seeing all over again.

Screaming, laughing, and talking disturb the tranquility of the small island the Straw Hat pirates decided to rest on. Nami and Robin relax under the shade of an umbrella Franky put up,while Sanji barbecues, Chopper, Usopp, and Luffy are busy chasing each other around with water guns, and Zoro is likely sleeping under a palm tree nearby. You yourself are busy walking over some more meat for Sanji. You're so focused on the wobbling tray that you don't realize Luffy is about to back into you until too late. He crashes into you, knocking the tray onto your chest and your butt onto the ground.

“Geez Luffy! Watch where you're going!” Usopp shouts from somewhere further up the beach while Luffy spins toward you.

“Oops. Sorry Y/n.” He says with a cute laugh as he reaches down to lift you up, but freezes when his eyes land on you. You're sitting on your behind and trying to get some sand out of your eye, but his gaze is focused a little lower than your face. Because he had bumped you, all the meat on the tray was now decorating the sand, but a few had been saved from the ground. Specifically two steaks that sit on your body, one in your lap, and one resting snug on top of your boobs. Luffy just blinks as fantasies he never even knew he had,come to life in his head.

“Aw man, Sanji's gonna be mad.” You sigh,before grimacing and sliding a piece of raw meat off of your breasts, leaving glistening juice behind. You reach for the one in your lap when Luffy quickly stops your hand. You look up at him and find that he's giving you a look you've never seen before. Close to how he looks when he's gotten serious during a battle, but there's a heat behind it, one that matches the one that builds embarrassingly quickly in your stomach because of it. Luffy gently pulls your hand away.

“Let me do it.” He says quietly, his eyes on yours until you nod your head. Both of your hearts are beating hard behind your chests as Luffy slowly reaches his hand into your lap. You hold your breath and it's as if he's grabbing for the steak in slow motion, until a voice calls out, and you both jump up like you just got caught doing something you shouldn't have.

“Luffy go and get me some fruit from the trees down the coast! I'm gonna make a sorbet with them!” Sanji calls out from the grill and both you and Luffy stand up quickly. He continues to look at you while you dust the sand off your legs and butt, struggling because the barbecue meat had made you sticky.

“Ok!” He calls back, without really taking his eyes off you. You look up when he takes your hand.

“Y/n,come with me?” He breathes out hurriedly, and you stumble for a moment, trying to think of what to say.

“I should probably rinse off though.” You mutter, not really wanting to do whatever you both had in mind while covered in raw meat drippings. Luffy just tugs your hand gently.

“We can do that too.” He sighs and that heated look is back in his eyes. Again he waits for your response, and after a moment you nod.

“Ok.” You say and butterflies swarm in your stomach as you let Luffy race with you down the coast.

***🥥***

🥥Sabo

He's waiting for you and Koala to get dressed so you can go down to the beach and looks up when he hears her gushing over something

Surprised

He can't help but follow you with his eyes for a moment when you walk out of the room with koala, You had a sheer shawl on but it did nothing to cover up the two triangles of fabric held together with a string bow and the straps of your bottoms resting high on your hips, revealing the sides of your vline.

He wasn't sure what bathing suit he'd been expecting you to walk out in but it definitely wasn't a bikini, a rather small one at that. Your typical outfits were more conservative, cute jackets and coats that match whatever shoes you're wearing,carefully put together tops and bottoms. He's never seen so much of your bare body before so he finds himself sneaking glances at you more times than he's proud of

It doesn't help that you stick next to him like you always do, and he's extremely conscious whenever and wherever your skin touches his now,

And it feels like that's happening a lot more than usual today.He doesn't know if you're doing it on purpose or if it's simply coincidence, maybe you noticed how red his ears turn whenever you hug his arm into your chest, or the way he can barely stop himself from freezing up a little when you brush against him, and you're doing it to tease him.

Feels the need to avert his eyes everytime they land on you, and when they do he knows he'll feel slightly guilty no matter where he looks.

Sabo wouldn't consider himself the kind of guy that struggles when confronted by a lewd display. If a woman were to try and seduce him by flashing a lot of skin, on a mission or otherwise,he probably wouldn't bat an eye. That's why he doesn't understand ehy he's so focused on the way you climb up the ladder of the pool, frozen like a statue in the middle of grabbing a drink out of the ice bucket. Water drips off and down your physique as you climb the rest of the steps, spilling down your thighs and chest as you wipe locks of hair out of your face.

Sabo swears you're moving in slow motion when you walk towards him. The softest parts of you bouncing tantalizingly with each step you take. The way you shake your hair a little. The small smile on your face. He wonders if he's imagining the sunlight illuminating your silhouette. He's still staring when you walk up to him with a sigh.

“Hey Sabo, can you hand me one?” You greet him softly and gesture towards the mini canteen in his hand. When you glance at him, Sabo recovers quickly, smoothly transitioning his horny gaze into a relaxed and cheerful smile, like only a skilled revolutionary like himself can pull off.

“Yeah no problem!” He answers coolly and reaches into the bucket before tossing a canteen to you. You catch it gracefully but yelp when a bit of the crushed ice clinging to the bottle, falls into your cleavage. Sabo is quick to step over, instinctively jumping to help you like he always does, all the while scolding himself in his head. How's he supposed to help you with something like this?

“It's ok, it's uh- melted already.” You laugh quietly, noting how jumpy Sabo has been since you walked out in this get up. Sabo is a skilled revolutionary but so are you, and like he guessed,you've been aware of his attention this entire time. At first it was embarrassing, but then it got a bit exciting, teasing him. You feel Sabo's gaze on you again, and decide to mess with him a little more. Tugging at the middle of your bra a bit, you draw it forward, and expose more of your breasts to him.

“See? All gone.” You say sweetly and look up at him to see his reaction. Sabo finds himself at a loss for words. Cool water droplets trickle over your girls, where you draw them together for him. You had to be doing this on purpose, and the thought of that really intrigued him. You bite your lip when Sabo clears his throat.

“Um-.” He just barely manages to say before he's suddenly pushed towards you. A beach ball bounces on the floor and you hear one of your coworkers yell an apology from the pool, but you're more focused on the man in front of you. Golden hair tickles your chin, and you flinch when you feel his breath puff just below your collarbone. You look down at Sabo, who's face to face with your boobs and bracing himself with your arms.

“Hey Sabo?” You ask tentatively. All you can see are his crimson ears from your angle, and you'd wonder if he was breathing if you didn't feel consistent puffs of air against your chest. You yelp when Sabo suddenly yanks you away and holds you at arm's length, his head down to hide his blush.

“Do you mind- helping me with something?” He says quietly before lifting his head, and the look he gives you is enough to make your knees weak.

***🥥***

🥥Law

He knew this beach day was a bad idea the moment penguin mentioned it, but because everyone seemed like they could use some sun and fresh air, he agreed, but the moment you walked out onto the sand, he knew he'd made a mistake.

Why'd you suddenly decide to wear something like that? A skimpy one piece bathing suit with a large diamond cut out of the center, showing off practically your entire torso, and he won't even get started on the back. Law didn't know if it was the design or if it was just too small for you, but either way the bottoms of your breasts were peeking out just the tiniest bit from being squished in the fabric,and it was extremely distracting, your entire outfit is.

You always seemed comfortable in the crew’s uniform jumpsuit, and when the crew docked you always wore modest, basic clothes. For as long as he'd known you, you've never been the type to show off or show out. Even your personality was a rather calm one, so this random choice of a sexy bathing suit didn't make any sense to him.

On pervert patrol and that unfortunately includes his own wandering eyes. He's quick to glare at penguin or shachi for any compliments they give you, but it's only because he himself doesn't have the guts to tell you how attractive he thinks you look. As for other people, his glare is so cold they could probably feel it from halfway across the beach. He even puts the rest of the crew on lookout duty to make sure no one makes you or Ikkaku uncomfortable

He has no confidence in this claim but sometimes it feels like you're bending over in front of him on purpose. Law wears a straight face the entire time and he even does a good job of suppressing his blush, but in his head he's thinking things that embarrass even himself.

Law's shades do a great job of concealing the way he admires you from his comfortable spot on his beach chair. You're sitting on your knees not far from him,busy building a sandcastle with bepo and Ikkaku. You're only patting on a few shell windows, but all he can focus on is the way your thighs squish under your weight, the high cut in your one piece revealing the crease between your thighs and pelvis. Law immediately sighs and tilts his head back before his thoughts can drift to how his hands would feel gripping that exact area. He hears footsteps approaching him and has to suppress another sigh when he looks up and sees that it's you.

“Hey captain, have you seen the sunscreen? I just remembered I haven't put any on.” You ask while looking between the chairs for your beach bag. Law doesn't even realize he's staring at you again until you bend over and he has to force himself to look away,for the sake of his own heart. You were sweating a little at this point ,and the view of your side profile in that outfit wasn't doing anything to help the little problem he was hiding with his book.

“It's in my bag, I told you all to put it on before we got to the resort.” He scolds you halfheartedly while you look around. His heart almost jumps out of his chest though, when you lean over him to get to his bag instead of walking around. Your boobs are dangerously close to spilling out of your top, and all he'd have to do is glance to his left to see your ass on full display.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” You mumble, not completely unaware of the way your captain was struggling. You've known him long enough to recognize his character quirks, even when he's trying to keep a straight face, and you could tell he practically short-circuited when you walked out in this bathing suit. It hadn't been intentional. You were wearing one of Ikkaku's because the shop owner at the resort closed the shop suddenly, but it was too small for you. You didn't want to wear it, but once you saw law's jaw clench and the way he bit at his lips the way he does when he's nervous, you wondered if you'd actually made the right choice.

“There it is.” You huff and mercifully lift up off of him. Law does his best to steady the rise and fall of his chest while you busily rub the sunscreen onto your skin. He glances over at you but has to avert his eyes when you start on your collar bones and dip down to your chest. Part of him is glad that you listened when he told you that even your skin tone can benefit from sunscreen, but another part of him is cursing his past self for putting him in this situation.

“Make sure you apply it thoroughly.” He reminds you before laying back and trying to get comfortable. Maybe he'll get some rest instead of embarrassing himself pining over you. He should be alright from here, but he only closes his eyes for a moment before you call out to him.

“Cap, can you help me with my back?” you ask sweetly, and law has to restrain a groan. He's in trouble.

***🥥***

🥥Kidd

Is surprised you even walked out in something like that

And even worse,you have the audacity to look good in it.

He's never seen much more than your arms and legs. You're always walking around the ship in sweaters and jeans or skirts. At first he even thought it was because you were insecure or something, but now he knows that obviously isn't the case.

He's almost offended, like, how dare you walk out here and stun him like that??? And how dare you make such a huge jump from being covered from head to toe to wearing a skimpy bikini? At least warn a guy! You're wearing basically nothing. A skimpy bikini with an incredibly small top, that barely holds your girls in and bottoms that could almost be considered lingerie.

All day he's hyper aware of any eyes on you and he's definitely mad dogging anyone that gets too good of an eyeful. It's because he's looking out for his people as your captain, he tells himself. Not because he's feeling a little jealous or anything. He's not even your dude( salty)

That doesn't mean he can't check you out though. He'll deny it if anyone mentions it, but he's definitely getting his looks in whenever he has a chance. How could he not when you looked so good? He won't lie, he's always thought that You've got a cute enough face, and your outfits are pretty cool, but kidd has always had a thing for sexy girls, and that has never been you until today, not fashion wise at least( there's times when you give him this look, like you know him better than he knows himself,and it pisses him off so bad but simultaneously makes him want to wife you up and bend you over the kitchen counter) but now that you're flaunting your stuff a little, it's making it even harder than before to pretend he doesn't like you, especially when his swim trunks are so tight.

“I got it!” Both you and Kid shout at the same time before lunging at the ball falling over your team's side of the net.

“Shit!”Kid curses and tries to stop himself but you collide against his wall of a body anyway. He's fine, but you bounce off of him like nothing. With a wince, you fall back a little but Kid manages to wrap a muscular arm around you right before you flop on your butt, practically lifting you off the sand. He tugs you back into him and you brace yourself with a hand against his chest.

“Thanks cap, I almost busted my-” You begin to say before you look up at the brightest red cheeks you've ever seen. Kid is blushing down to his neck, and it's because your boobs are smashed up against him. His heart beats quicker at the sight of your pretty skin tone contrasting against his own pale one. Your face starts to burn too when you realize just how much of his huge body is against you, that and the fact that he's effortlessly holding you up with one arm. You knew Kid was strong and well,huge, but being carried against him like you weighed nothing, tends to drive it home.You're extremely grateful your flush isn't visible like his is. Both of you snap out of your horny haze when one of your crew whistles loudly from across the net.

“Get a room you horndogs!” Killer calls out with a shake of his head, and the rest of your crew joins in, shouting and whistling at the way you two were caught all hugged up. Kidd quickly drops you back onto your feet and you immediately turn to your crew to deny everything.

“Shut up, it's not like that! Tell em Kidd!” You shout at them before turning to your Captain to back you up, but Kidd just sighs and rubs the back of his neck. You watch with confusion as he apparently makes up his mind about something.

“Eh fine, so what if it is like that huh?! You scrubs!” Kidd shouts back and your eyes widen, because he basically just admits that he was thinking dirty thoughts about you too. He looks down at you with a smirk and leans next to you.

“Isn't that right short stuff?” he groans into your ear and you almost fall to the ground again. The crew is causing a commotion all around you two but Kidd keeps his eyes trained on you until he gets your ok. No sooner do you roll your eyes and nod, does he pick you up and toss you over his shoulder.

“Hey!” You shout while you try to ignore the tingle building in your abdomen, and slap his shoulder but Kidd barely feels it.

“Looks like we'll be heading out!” Kidd calls out to everyone else with a dirty grin and a protective hand covering your ass, before walking off to a secluded part of the beach.

A/n: I hope this wasn't too idk immature, I don't really know how to write captivating or enticing smut/suggestive stuff lol, so I'm yeh, feeling pretty insecure about this one. I do plan on doing a part 2 tho, so please lmk if you want it to be about more characters or a explicit continuation of these scenarios! Let me know who your favorite was too if you want. Thanks for reading!🥥🥥🥥

🥥Taggies: @cookieswithay ; @bokutosbiceps ; @stuckinthewrongworld ; @wrennyx ; @anyaswlrd ;

[emmyrosee]

@bontensh0e YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND

———

“Wait, why is this guy fine as hell?”

Leaning against the island in the kitchen, just a few feet away from Keiji eating happily at the table, you see a head instantly shoot up from reading his book, to starting at your skull.

He doesn’t say anything. He merely watches.

You sink your teeth into your lip with a small blush, moving the shirt collar up to cover the lower part of your face, “Gods really like him, apparently.”

Once again, Keiji says nothing. You wonder, briefly, if he stopped caring, with the roll of his eyes you love so much, but when you let your gaze flick back over to him, he’s still staring. Blinking unamused, and watching intently from behind his glasses.

“I wish I could be that hot,” you sigh dramatically.

“You are hot,” he scoffs, standing up and cleaning up the small setting he made for breakfast. There’s an annoyance laced in his voice, one you’d miss the jealousy in if you don’t know him well enough. “Besides, who cares how someone online looks? It’s almost all editing anyways. You’re thriving naturally.”

You flash him a coy smile, “I wish I could agree, but…” you sigh as he starts to make his way over. “This guy is just so hot.”

“It better be one of the Miya’s,” he mutters, and you let out a string of laughter as you duck your phone away, just before he leans in for a look. His nostril flare and his eyes bulge subtly, but he takes a deep breath in and places his mug in the sink to wash it. “You know I don’t mind you admiring others- but it’s 7 in the morning. Too early for such feral descriptions.”

“Would you rather me admire you at 7 in the morning?” You coo.

He finally cracks a smile and a small laugh, “I always want you to admire me.” You hum and slowly make your way over to the sink, turning your phone towards you both. He looks at your screen once, then looks again when he realizes it’s him in your recording camera, hair ruffled and glasses low on his nose, an Ocarina Of Time shirt that you bought him years ago hanging from his torso.

His cheeks burst in an absolute flush, teeth sinking into his lip shyly as he continues to wash the cup. It was clean forty seconds ago; now he just doesn’t want to look at you.

“You’re fine as hell, Keiji,” you hum, planting a kiss to his scarlet cheek.

“Shut up, you ass,” he grumbles around the unbudging smile.

[chandlersfuneral]

"i promise"

fic for anon!

daryl dixon x fem!reader

angst to a little fluff

tags: gore, weapons, zombies, impaling, pain, blood.

summary: daryl comforts you shortly after you’ve been shot in the leg

(set in season 1)

large pointed bullets and sharp arrows shot from every direction in the dead of night. a giant herd of walkers were coming towards your group. rick, glenn, and daryl were trying their hardest to fight off these grotesque undead beings from getting to the rest of the women and children who couldn't protect themselves. you were trying your best to fight these monsters off with your long blade, stabbing them in the neck and head. you knew that striking them anywhere else but the head wouldn't kill them, but you were the only chick ready to start massacring these walkers. stunning them was better than not hitting them at all.

you were swiping your blade left and right. trying your best to at least hit them. everything is okay until you feel something strike the back of your calf. it feels warm at first, then wet, then antagonizing pain. your knees immediately give out, your palms on the cold grass cushion your fall. the wails coming from you can be heard from a mile away. your soft voice raises several octaves higher when you realize there is a sharp arrow piercing through you. daryl's own arrow from his crossbow is piercing through your calf.

"fuck please someone fucking help me! daryl!" you scream, tears flowing like a waterfall from your eyes. daryl's crossbow hit the ground with a soft thud. his eyes become wide in absolute horror. daryl didn't know you too well, but he definitely acknowledged your existence. he didn't know how he felt about you, but he thought you were pretty.

the rest of the group made a point to move the herd away from you while daryl jumped into action. his knees slammed on the ground in front of you, his hand stroking your chin length black hair. he's trying his best to calm you down, because this was going to hurt.

"girl...im gonna have to move ya." daryl sighs and puts one arm over your back and another under your tummy in an attempt to move you. but you just don't budge.

"no daryl, fuck. i can't i can't." you pant out, the pain is really getting to you. at this point, you can't feel your entire right leg. "i know, i know but we have to go, darlin." darlin. that made your insides feel fuzzy and you don't feel the intense pain in your calf for a split second. darlin. that five letter word made you comply. you nod 'okay' and daryl wraps his bulky arms around your torso, doing his best to flip you over so you're now sitting on your ass. now that you're in this position, daryl's ability to carry you is much easier now.

daryl's burly arms wrap around your small frame, making it a point not to knock the arrow that went completely through your calf. you felt his body warmth on you and it gave you a sense of protection. a sense of safety, knowing you were in the arms of daryl dixon.

𓆩♱𓆪

"darlin, please. you've gotta quiet down." daryl cooed, he's trying to get you to stop your stomach churning screams. you knew your screams could attract walkers to the camp, but you just can't stop. the feeling of the arrow slowly being pulled through your leg is the most disturbing feeling you've ever felt.

he strokes the sweaty hair out of your face, your head resting on his lap as glenn is working on getting the weapon out of your body. "god, baby i'm so sorry, it'll be over soon i promise." daryl says in a soft voice, now his callous hands resting on your cheeks. his thumb swiping away the uncontrollable tears spewing from your eyes.

the pop your leg made once the arrow was out even made glenn and daryl grimace. but their reactions couldn't compare to the shattering look on your face. the pain of the arrow being pulled out caused your back to arch and spasm. blood is now gushing from the wound, pouring out onto the tattered couch below you,

"i know, girl. its okay... it's over." daryl's sweet voice was the last thing you heard before going unconscious from the pain.

𓆩 𓆪

this is for anon! i hope this finds you and i hope you enjoy, i'm so sorry it took so long. i hope it's what you expected!!!

[bumblesimagines]

Second Chances

Request: Yes or No

Summary: While the life of nobles has many privileges, politics and alliances spare no feelings. Deals are often struck.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical HOTD/GoT warnings, labor and death, age gap mention, death of lucerys mentioned, emotionally stunted father alert, Aemond (subtly) being a lil shit

~~~

It was a stormy night amid summer when (Y/N) Baratheon came to the gripping realization he was a widow at the age of nine and ten. The ear-piercing wails of the newborn babe in his arms, freshly cleaned by the somber midwife, mixed with the familiar pelting of the rain.

He wasn't sure what to make of the sight in front of him. He wasn't sure what to make of the wailing bundle in his arms. There were a lot of things, he realized, he wasn't sure of.

His wife, Lady Elowen Tully, was laying in their marital bed in the beige nightgown she loved so much because of the floral designs on the hems. It was a gory sight. And (Y/N) couldn't look away. 

Her nightgown was soaked and partially sheer from a mixture of sweat, blood, and other birthing fluids he wasn't familiar with. The blood was most prominent. There was so much of it. It was everywhere; her gown, her thighs, their sheets, on the midwife and Maester Edrick, on the floor. 

Elowen had always been a girl of shorter structure. How did she have so much blood in her?

The baby was still crying. He hadn't really looked at it- at her yet. He couldn't. There was so much blood. 

He knew the moment Elowen woke him up in a frenzy that it'd be a hard labor. She'd been frantic, sputtering about the blood between her thighs because nobody ever mentioned blood when her mother and his own spoke to her of childbirth. He thought it would be a small complication. 

There was so much blood. 

He barely processed the door opening and shutting, its stupidly loud hinges squealing like a captured rat. He was too busy looking at his wife, too busy staring at the blood dripping onto the dark stone floor when the midwife covered Elowen's lower torso. 

"(Y/N)," His father's voice rumbled like thunder. A Baratheon trait. Their voices were loud and hard and meant to pierce through the thundering of the storms that were a constant presence over their home. "Look at me." 

(Y/N) looked down at his daughter instead. She made him nauseous. She looked like her mother. "It's a girl." He barely recognized his own voice from how quiet it was. Shaky. Not a Baratheon trait.

His father looked grim, uncertain. "I heard." He nodded, his voice tight. "You're young. You'll have a son eventually." 

Borros Baratheon wasn't known for his emotional intelligence. He was a warrior, a man to be reckoned with on and off the battlefield. He didn't cry or get excited. Always somber, always serious. 

(Y/N) wanted his mother. 

Clearing his throat, Maester Edrick shuffled closer. His clothes were still stained red but his hands dripped with water. "Does she have a name?" He asked carefully, his weary green eyes watching (Y/N)'s face. 

Elowen believed the name would come to her once she looked upon their child's face. She'd been gone before their daughter could begin screeching. 

"Uhm," (Y/N) raised his head and set his eyes on the vase on the nightstand. Elowen always kept flowers on her nightstand. "Azalea." 

"Lady Azalea Baratheon." Maester Edrick nodded. "That is a lovely name." 

The blood felt neverending. The stench was overwhelming. 

His daughter was still crying. Her face was scrunched up and her toothless mouth was open to release her constant shrieking without stopping for even a second to catch her breath. His arms moved slowly, tentatively, bouncing her like he'd seen his mother do with his youngest sister. Azalea's face was bright red, and finally, she stopped.. only to suck in a breath and start her insistent screeching again.

He felt compelled to shake her into silence, to get her to understand that her mother's corpse was a more pressing matter but he only cradled her further into his chest.

"Please be quiet." He exhaled into her small ear, and the soft skin of her head pressed into his neck. Her tiny hands freed themselves from the golden-colored cloth she'd been expertly wrapped in to clutch at his tunic. Her crying ceased, and he felt relieved for a fleeting second. 

Maester Edrick's pity was suffocating. "The silent sisters will tend to her with the utmost care, (Y/N)." He spoke softly, his voice almost coaxing.

(Y/N) didn't understand at first until he realized everyone in the room was still and staring at him. He swallowed and moved forward, past Maester Edrick and his grimacing face and past the midwife who bowed her head to cover the sorrow on her face. He stopped near the nightstand where the candle had long gone out and stared down at the woman he'd married when he was a month shy from six and ten. 

Someone, one of the servants or Maester Edwrick, had the kindness to shut her eyes. She almost looked as if she were sleeping, if it weren't for the crimson staining her skin and clothes. Most of the color had already drained from her face, leaving her once naturally flushed cheeks a ghostly pale color. He willed her to open her eyes, to gasp for air and return from the dead, but she remained limp on the bed. 

He hadn't realized he was trembling until he reached out to touch one of her light auburn strands, frizzy and wild from all the frantic tossing and squirming. He rubbed the string of hair between his fingers. Her hair was always soft and vibrant, so bright against the natural darkness of Storm's End. Everything about her was so, so bright.

"Her grandfather-"

"A raven will be sent to Riverrun right away, I assure you." Maester Edrick's sounded closer than he expected. He felt that familiar bony hand rest over his shoulder. "But right now, you and the babe must rest, My Lord. The wet nurse and I will watch over her throughout the night, I promise." 

He kept Azalea cradled to his chest. His last piece of Elowen. "No, she- she'll stay with me." 

"My Lord-"

"She'll stay with me." 

Azalea stirred in his arms. She was so small. How could she be so tiny, so fragile? She was wrinkly and looked more like a balding old man than the toddlers he was used to seeing. Cassandra liked to say all babies were ugly. She was half right.

(Y/N) couldn't stand to be in the room anymore and so he walked away from their marital bed, from their room. The strikes of lighting outside illuminated the dimly lit hallway and the rumbles of thunder vibrated through his body. 

Azalea hardly flinched. A true Baratheon.

He stepped into the darkness of one of their many guest bedchambers, empty; Storm's End was never on the top of anyone's list when they considered which castle to visit.

(Y/N) moved toward the bed and maneuvered his daughter onto one arm, using his hand to tug at the sheets and blankets until they formed an oval shape just the size of his little girl.

Gingerly, he placed her in the center and crawled into bed beside her. Azalea didn't stir. Her chest slowly rose and fell and her balled-up fist tightly clutched at the cloth wrapped around her. 

Sleep would be fleeting, he knew that well. She'd wake soon enough with demands and shrieks until the wet nurse arrived but he'd tolerate it. Tolerating things was what he was good at. 

(Y/N) stared at her for a little while longer. Nothing felt real.

He loved his parents. 

His father was Lord Borros Baratheon, a man of few words and many actions. He was a warrior, a glory-seeker, a man with a permanent scowl and a love for battle. His father placed a sword in his hand the moment he was strong enough to carry it and was certain he'd every bit of Baratheon.

His mother was Lady Elenda Caron. She was what every noblewoman was expected to be; poise, peaceful, honorable, duty-bound. She completed her tasks as mother and Lady of Storm's end diligently. She knew Storm's End better than her husband.

He was proud of his parents. He loved them. He wanted to shove them into the raging waters that surrounded Storm's End and be done with their puppeteering. 

(Y/N) hadn't looked at his mother since they departed from Storm's End. He kept his stare forward and focused on his three sisters, partly to keep an eye on Azalea who sat comfortably on Ellyn's lap and partly to remind himself of his missing sister.

Ever since the dreary night when Prince Lucerys lost his life in their waters, their mother never failed to remind Maris it'd been her words that'd sent Prince Aemond into a rage. Their mother detested the embarrassment it brought onto their family. 

Maris wasn't known for holding her tongue. She was witty and clever and never failed to speak her mind, regardless of the situation. She was meant for great things, but she was her father's daughter and her anger controlled her. 

Their mother decided the only thing that would teach Maris humility was joining the silent sisters. None of them had been thrilled at the idea. 

As for the irritation he felt for his father... 

Exactly two moons prior, a letter arrived at Storm's End from King's Landing; a proposal made by the ruling regent Prince Aemond. He'd left before they could decide which of the Four Storms he would marry, and to make up for his lack of answer, he offered a better betrothal:

One between Queen Dowager Alicent Hightower and the future Lord of Storm's End. 

His beloved Elowen Tully was dead. The moment the air fled from her lungs and the life drained from her body, he was an eligible bachelor back on the marriage mart. It was an offensive idea and one that everyone treaded on lightly around him. 

But his father believed three years was an adequate enough time for grief, never mind the fact his granddaughter couldn't even read fluently yet. 

It was useless protesting or arguing with a man like Borros, especially once his mind was set on something, and (Y/N) could only huff and grumble about it whilst his sisters celebrated the idea of joining the royal court. 

He watched the three of them lean toward the windows with excitement and anticipation while the carriage made its way up the road leading toward the Red Keep, their eyes big and wide. Ellyn held Azalea in her arms and pointed out things for the little girl to see. It was heartwarming to watch, but his bubbling annoyance made it hard to focus. 

"Heir and future Lord of Storm's End, (Y/N) Baratheon, his mother, Lady Elenda of Storm's End, and his daughter, Lady Azalea Baratheon." The herald's voice shouted into the quiet bustle of the courtyard. The gates shook while they slid shut behind the carriage. "And his sisters: Lady Cassandra Baratheon, Lady Ellyn Baratheon, and Lady Floris Baratheon." 

Cassandra immediately straightened the skirt of her golden dress, her palm pressing eagerly over the wrinkles while Floris combed her fingers through the raven waves resting over her shoulders until they were perfect. 

"A smile would not kill you." His mother muttered, fingertips gently prodding at her hairnet until it straightened. "It is not every day a man marries a queen." 

(Y/N) said nothing and took Azalea into his arms so Ellyn could tug at the sleeves of her dress. His daughter settled comfortably in his embrace and observed her aunts curiously, too young to understand their franticness in ensuring their appearances were nothing less than perfect.

Once the door to their carriage opened, (Y/N) held his breath and stepped out, his hold on his daughter tightening until his feet were firmly on the ground. Azalea grasped onto his collar with uncertainty and her lips jutted out into an uneasy pout. 

He couldn't blame her. He felt the same way. 

His mother and sisters shuffled out of the carriage after him, their giddy chatter swiftly ending with a single look from their mother. 

"Welcome to King's Landing," Prince Aemond's sharp voice sliced through the air, his long legs carrying him in strides toward them. He looked pleased with himself. "I hope the journey was not strenuous." 

(Y/N) was beginning to wish his father had accompanied them. 

"Your concern is most gracious, Your Grace." (Y/N) bowed his head and felt his adams apple bob with a swallow. His mother looked satisfied with his answer, and he sighed softly with relief. "We couldn't be more grateful for your consideration." 

Prince Aemond's smile was anything but comforting. "My mother will be returning from Baelor's Sept soon. She is a pious woman. I do not recall hearing of a sept in Storm's End." 

"We have a godswood." (Y/N) felt tempted to shrug but his mother inhaled sharply through her nose, so he added, "We can have one built for Her Grace." 

Prince Aemond nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Good, good. We can discuss more once you have settled in then, My Lord. Your belongings will be taken to your bedchambers; Ser Arving will escort you to them."

The Red Keep was, as expected, undeniably red, but only when the sunlight peeked through the grey clouds overhead. The massive walls encircling the castle reminded him of Storm's End, but that was where the similarities ended. 

He found no joy in following the knight through the dimly lit halls of the Keep. The air was thick and dreary, hardly what he expected from the Crown's home but his sisters appeared in awe of everything. 

"His Grace hopes to host the wedding soon, My Lord." Ser Arving told him, one large hand pulling on the doorknob to one of the bedchambers and nodding his head toward his sisters. 

"Soon?" (Y/N) repeated with a side step to avoid being trampled by the three when they hurried into the room with shouts of who it would belong to. Satisfaction made his lips quirk when he caught sight of his mother's flushed cheeks. 

Ser Arving nodded. "His Grace believes it is best to have the wedding before the battles continue. He wishes for a private affair, perhaps in the coming week." 

(Y/N) almost choked on his spit. 

"Week?" He managed, voice almost wheezy from a withheld cough. Azalea looked at him and her pout morphed into a deep frown. His hand gently patted her back until she relaxed again. "Surely, Her Grace would rather have a peaceful wedding once the fighting is over with." 

Ser Arving shrugged but had the decency to look understanding. "Her Grace hasn't spoken of the wedding, My Lord." 

(Y/N) had a feeling they had similar opinions on the marriage. Perhaps that meant he could convince her to speak with her son.

"I see." 

His sisters and mother were given apartments in the same hall, roughly the same size as their rooms back home but they all seemed effortlessly thrilled with them. Ellyn and Floris were always the easiest to please. He presumed Cassandra was just eager to emerge herself in the life of a courtier. 

Ser Arving led him further away from his family and a gnawing anxiety in his stomach grew. He wanted to be home in Storm's End with his father urging him to use their army in a fight against Rhaenyra Targaryen's men instead of the Vulture King in the Red Mountains.

Truthfully, the Baratheons cared little for which Targaryen sat the throne. Prince Aemond had simply struck the better deal between the two parties whilst Princess Rhaenyra relied on an oath taken by his late grandfather. Prince Lucerys never stood a chance against his uncle.

Ser Arving stopped before two tall sets of doors and murmured a greeting to the man standing by them. He was tall with tan skin, coal-black hair, and equally dark eyes. Dornish. His father would've scoffed at the very sight of him. 

"Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Criston Cole, My Lord." He introduced himself with a humble bow, strands of his hair falling over his forehead. (Y/N) caught the small, quick smile he sent Azalea and decided he liked the knight. "Her Grace returned from the Sept recently, My Lord. She awaits your arrival inside." 

Gods be damned. 

(Y/N) held back a sigh. "Thank you, Lord Commander." 

The doors groaned softly when opened and he reluctantly stepped inside the bedchambers, his hold on his daughter tightening when the doors shut behind him. He pressed a kiss to Azalea's temple and gingerly placed her on the floor so they could properly greet the Queen Dowager. 

"Your Grace," (Y/N) bowed his head and observed Azalea as she grabbed part of his pant leg into her fist and clumsily curtsied. Her big (E/C) eyes peered up at him expectantly and he nodded approvingly. 

When he finally looked at his would-be bride, he first noticed her auburn hair which looked so strikingly similar to Elowen's. Everything about her was similar to Elowen; her fair skin that looked slightly flushed, the way her hair curled, the auburn color that was just a shade darker, and her slim figure. 

Grief constricted his heart and he averted his eyes to stare at the table she'd been sitting at. Bronze bowls filled with raspberries and blueberries, small biscuits and cakes placed expertly on scalloped-shaped stands, and steaming cups of tea. 

"My Lord," Queen Alicent greeted softly, her voice and dark eyes melancholy. She looked tired, and weary, as if merely standing was a chore. "I would have welcomed you to King's Landing sooner but I was busy." 

"It's alright."

He had an inkling she would've busied herself with something else if she hadn't visited the sept. 

(Y/N) reached down to give Azalea his hand, his shoulders forming an awkward hunch as they approached the small rounded table. Queen Alicent scooped a pillow from the nearby couch and smoothed it out over one of the chairs for Azalea. 

"Hello." She greeted warmly, her eyes crinkling with the delight of someone fond of children. She had grandchildren, he recalled as he helped Azalea sit. Were they to become his grandchildren? "You can have whatever you desire, My Lady." Her words had a lightness to them.

Azalea blinked her big eyes at him. She was quiet. His mother claimed she inherited it from both him and Elowen. They'd been very awkward children, almost too shy to function on most days. 

He took a plate into his hand and scooped the berries onto it with a spoon before cutting a slice of one of the cream cakes. As expected, Azalea dug into the cake slice first, smearing her lips and big cheeks with white frosting but it only made Queen Alicent smile wider. There was something sad lingering in it.

"Most lords would rather keel over than take such care of their children." Queen Alicent said gently, her attention largely focused on Azalea. She folded a napkin over her finger and carefully wiped the frosting on Azalea's chin.

"She's my firstborn." (Y/N) muttered and wrapped his fingers around one warm cup, strong hints of mint assaulting his nose once he lifted it to his lips. "She's everything to me." 

Queen Alicent nodded, understanding yet her eyes glided elsewhere, almost distantly. She'd been young when she had her firstborn to King Viserys, younger than he and Elowen. Five and ten, he believed. The news spread quickly throughout Westeros, with many softly spoken questions of Rhaenyra and her status as heir. Two more sons later and she remained grasping onto it until Aegon was abruptly crowned. He pitied her, somewhat.

"You are not much older than Aegon. That is a fact that... unnerves me." Queen Alicent revealed gently and leaned back into her seat, looking ever more regal as she set her arms over the rests and gazed back at him. "The Realm may be tearing itself apart but there are still eligible young ladies. Lord Jasper Wylde has plenty of daughters, many of whom are still without husbands."

(Y/N) took a delicate sip of the tea, mindful as to not burn his tongue, and set the cup back down on the table. "If I may speak plainly, Your Grace?" He waited for her to nod, and then took a breath once she did. "I am grateful that House Baratheon meets the Crown's expectations, and that we were considered to begin with, but I do not wish to marry. I know I will be expected to father many children to continue House Baratheon's lineage but.. I am content as is right now."

Queen Alicent nodded again. "It is to my understanding that you still grieve your wife. I cannot fault you for that." 

"I appreciate it, Your Grace. Everyone has expected me to pretend as if Elowen wasn't everything to me once. I only ever wished for... for sympathy. For understanding."

"For someone to say how sorry they are for what happened to you." Queen Alicent's voice sounded strained whilst she spoke as if her chest was constricting from simply uttering those words. Her fingers curled inward and formed tight fists over the armrests when he nodded wordlessly. "I'm sorry for your tragic loss. It is not easy losing a loved one."

"Thank you, Your Grace. I'm sorry about.. everything." 

Queen Alicent let out a breathless chuckle and raised her hand to run her fingertips over the edge of her eyebrow. Her shoulders lowered the slightest bit and her gaze softened, a newfound warmth emitting from her. "Aemond claimed you'd be a good match for me. He said you'd care for me better than my late husband. I was doubtful, for young men are often arrogant and impatient, but fatherhood and loss seem to have matured you." 

"Your Grace?"

"You do not want a new wife; I do not want a new husband. I believe, perhaps, we can save each other from much more unfortunate fates. We can marry and not consummate the marriage. Once you are ready to move forward, our marriage can be set aside by the High Septon and we will both be free of duties others wish to thrust upon us for their own gain." 

"That is... clever."

"It is." Queen Alicent smiled. "What do you say?"

[bonbonly]

Sooooo first of all you haven't seen me here imagining things for lando bc I was not, somebody took over my account and i'm sending this thot to you bc it would be a shame to not share whatever my friend has cooked up there (it started out as a charles thot but the more my friend thought about it it fit better to a certain papaya twink than to our reigning ferrari princess) ANYWAY...

Streamer!Lando but also only fans creator!lando. Started out with CoD streams, maybe a bit of Rainbow Six, is decently successful with it. has a blast with his mates online but after some time he's frustrated with it bc he'd love to create something of his own. not just stream and showcase other people's work, do something himself yk?

So he starts a little photography account where he posts some impressions from his daily life and his fans love it but it just doesn't hit the spot for him. Nothing really does until one time when he's about to send some low effort nudes to some random girl he thinks fuck it and puts some effort into it, poses himself, adjusts the lighting, sets up the tripod to get some special angles and what can i say…

He likes it. Loves it even. Loves it more than the nudes he gets back. Just thinking about staging himself gets him hard again. So he does what every normal human being with a voyeurism kink does, opens an only fans. But on the down low. Nobody needs to know that it's him. He starts simple, nothing explicit yet, just his chiseled abs and pecs on display, a bedsheet draped delicately low across his lap, showcasing his tiny waist beautifully, his head just out of frame.

Then he upgrades to videos. the best microphone on the market, catching up every little moan and gasp he makes imagining the hundreds of people watching him jerk off. a high-quality camera recording every little droplet of sweat running down his torso when he's bouncing on a big silicone dick later. Mood-lighting, that makes every spurt of cum on his stomach glisten in the camera.

He does numbers on the platform, skyrocketing to the top 1% of creators in less than a month. He gets off on the thought that maybe some of his Twitch fans are unknowingly watching him on OF too. But he's not afraid of being discovered. He's careful not to mix the two worlds. He has it handled.

That is until you stumble over some pics of an OF creator that look suspiciously like some nudes you got a while ago from a certain high-profile streamer…

- 🍪

well 🍪 anon, you've outdone yourself and for that im going to ask you to start building a house on my campsite (im never letting you leave) can imagine the way your brows must furrow when you glance at your phone, your laptop and then back to your phone. maybe you even hold the devices side by side and notice the same details.

the glistening torso, the veins on his cock as his hands wrap around it. and lets say he - as a streamer - never responded back to you after he sent you those nudes, it was just a small thrill anyway for him so nothing too serious so you raise an eyebrow and think to yourself what would be the best way to get this man's attention again, he didn't even respond to you when you sent him your nudes back!

so using the same name you had on twitch - which was how you even met lando since you had donated a hefty amount to his stream - you subscribe to his OF and send him a donation there, maybe a teasing message only meant for him to see, but the message is clear.

you know it's him. and he might've been a bit confused at first until he finally realized that this was the very girl that made him understand himself better to starting that OF page. he probably smirks, tugging at his curls and thinking about how to approach this because obviously these two worlds have to be separate.

so after one night when he places a plug up his ass, his stomach coated with his cum, he might give you the honor of sending you more personal photos, just for you since you're doing such a good job at keeping his secret. he'll ask for you to send some back and there's probably no conversation going on, no hi how are you? hey what'd you think of this video?

because he knows you're watching each one, knows you're probably touching yourself on your bed thinking its his hand and not yours thats covered in your slick. he has the videos of you himself, your fingers deep in your cunt moaning his name while watching his videos. that knowledge alone is enough to keep him going, as long as you don't try to reveal his true identity.

little does he know that you miiiiiiight be a bit influenced from your own greed to try and make him bend for a more... personal fan interaction.

[chilling-seavey]

this is so possessive of George and his breeding kink but imagine you are trying to wear a tight and skintight dress but it won't fit because of your tiny bump and the way your breast are changing

LOVE IT. LOVE IT SM

The string of muttered expletives coming from the ensuite bathroom had George's eyes drifting to the cracked open door. Standing in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom as he tied his tie, he called out to you, "You alright in there, love?"

"No." came your insistent response, words strained in frustration and exertion.

George padded over to the ensuite door and knocked as he nudged it open a little more to peek inside, alerting you of his presence. Of course, you didn't turn him away, letting him get an eyeful of you immensely struggling to get into your cocktail dress. You honestly looked like some attempt at a Picasso sculpture with your arms flung around your torso this way and that, manicured fingernails clawing at your back and the edge of your dress.

"What in the world is going on here?" George asked with a breathy laugh as he rested his shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

"My dress won't do up," you huffed, finally getting your hand on the tiny zipper but it wouldn't budge, the fabric sides being held too far apart.

George pushed off the wall and took the half step over to you, "Alright, alright, let me."

You sent a frustrated pout to the bathroom mirror as you dropped your hands to your sides, watching his reflection standing behind you and analyzing the zipper of your dress. His warm fingers brushed over the small of your back, rising the faintest shivers in their wake, and he tugged the fabric of your dress closer together before starting to pull up the zipper. He made it about an inch or two before he was met with resistance.

"See?" you threw a hand out towards the mirror in exasperation.

George glanced up to meet your frustrated gaze in the mirror, the pair of you standing at a 45-degree angle to the vanity. He had this stupid little smile on his face.

"What?" you frowned.

George leaned in closer and let go of your zipper to slide his hands around your front until they rested over the tiny swell of your belly. He answered in the softest voice known to man, "Baby is growing. You're growing."

There was a pause between you as you both stared at yourselves in the mirror and the ever so faint bump revealed under the tight fabric of your dress. Your frustrations eased a bit and you leaned back against his chest, settling your hands on his wrists.

"Oh."

George, without tearing his eyes away from the sight of you in the mirror, licked his lips instinctively. Then, he pulled back to give your hips a squeeze, "Why don't you find another dress then, love? Something looser until we can buy you some maternity clothes."

"But I wanted to wear this dress," you frowned, running your hands over the silk fabric around your waist. The top was still gaping and loose since the zipper wasn't done up but you were adamant that this was the dress you wanted to wear for your special dinner together.

So, like the good husband he was, George had you suck in the best you could so he could yank at the zipper until it finally cooperated with a purposeful zwwwip. Sure, you could hardly breathe and in spots the dress looked like it was about to rip right off you, but you were pleased.

As you stared at yourself in the mirror, your eyes moved from your tiny belly to the genuinely obnoxious swell of your breasts. Once having been held nicely in this form fitting dress, now, to be frank, you resembled a cheap prostitute with how they nearly spilled out of the neckline. Sure, you had known your body was changing with your pregnancy but this damn dress was really the nail in the coffin of realization as to how much.

Your eyes flicked to George in the reflection of the mirror, him still standing beside you and, as if having the same thoughts, his eyes were also trained in shamelessly on your chest. You licked away your amused smile at his expression of awe and then grabbed two handfuls of the front of your dress to try and make yourself look a bit more decent by tugging up the neckline.

"What the fuck." you groaned when the dress that was nearly painted on wouldn't budge.

George stepped up behind you and gently pulled your hands away so he could try, definitely knowing he wasn't going to get much farther but silently wanting an opportunity to touch you without looking too sleezy. But when it was proven that the dress was not going to budge and you were left looking quite...out there...George let himself splay his large hands over the surface area of your breasts as he sighed against your shoulder.

Your momentary frustration melted into an amused smile, resting your hands on the bathroom counter as he gently groped your breasts and then slid his palms down to rub over your tiny belly beneath your dress. He kissed your neck.

"I think baby is being strangulated in this dress," George mumbled against your earlobe, "And as much as I think you look...ravishing...I don't think this is giving the right message for formal dinner."

"Too much boob?"

"No such thing, really, but, yeah," George kissed your shoulder and then rested his chin down to stare at you through the mirror, his arms secure around your middle, "Too much boob."

You jutted out your bottom lip, trying to accept that your favourite dress was now, momentarily, unwearable. It was bittersweet, watching the old you that you were familiar with change to grow life. It would teach you how to fall in love with yourself and your body all over again, in a whole new way.

Before you could even have an inclining of a thought about George's mindset amongst all your changes, he spoke with his hands firmly covering the small swell of your stomach,

"God, you look so fucking gorgeous and I'm so fucking in love with you."

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[nemisuki]

After Hours

Comfort AU | Just helping the blonde feel better about himself because he deserves the world.

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, fluff and angst, no smut, reverse comfort, wholesome oneshot, words of affirmation, he’s just a lil guy fr, 668 word count

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed throughout his silent dorm room. The only other noise being the rustling leaves outside his window - strong winds causing the autumn tree branches to sway in the chilly air beyond the glass.

"We really need to work on this habit of yours Katsuki."

The mattress slightly dips with the new added weight as she sits on the edge of his bed, likely staring at him, though he wouldn't know, as he lays backside to her - mindlessly staring at the wall.

He told her to not show, yet she did anyway, as always.

"Go away Y/N."

If only he'd looked at her, then he would've seen the way she simply smiled at his remark, unbothered by his blunt words.

She slowly lays beside him to make herself comfortable, a small yawn escaping her as she turns on her side to face his back.

"You can't keep pushing me away" she says softly, so much so that it could be considered a whisper.

"I said go away."

"I think your hurting-"

"Stop it" he mumbles, sharply cutting off her words with a huff. As his body tensed from her field of view. 

But he knows she isn't one to back down.

"You know.... to me you're the most important hero in my life" she hums, her hand slowly wrapping around his torso to spoon him from behind.

He doesn't push her away - making her only be met with silence. Seems he's already lost the urge to fight back, which only heightens her concerns.

Her grip on him tightens at that realization, "You don't have to blame yourself Katsuki, you're only human."

She doesn't say much after that, understanding the best form of comfort for him is offering silence.

In other terms - the invitation to speak if needed, while staying by his side, waiting patiently for him to let her in.

As time passes, she doesn't know how long it's been, the only thing occupying her mind being the urge to get a glimpse of his face.

He hasn't made a sound or moved in a while. Has he fallen asleep?

Her own question gets answered as she takes notice of his sudden shaking body, making her heart lurch at the immediate breakdown, his emotions finally reaching a breaking point.

Small sniffles escaping him as he finally lets his walls break down.

".....please let me hug you properly" she whispers, biting the inside of her cheek to not cry alongside him. It's not often he's so vulnerable like this, that she can't help but to feel pain at his own suffering.

It takes him a moment but he reluctantly shifts around, finally facing her as those red glossed orbs meet hers.

On that pretty face typically seen with his signature scowl now lies a defenseless version of Katsuki that only those closest to him get to witness.

"....hurts..."

Her eyes slightly widen at his small mumble, her body quickly moving on its own, pulling him into a tight embrace as one hand caresses his back while the other gently runs through his hair.

It doesn't take long as he decides to cling to her, burying himself against her body as muffled sobs escape him.

Silent tears flow down her face as she presses soft kisses against his scalp, "I know... but I'll listen. When you're ready, okay?"

He quietly nods beside her, pulling himself closer as she drapes the blanket over the two of them. It takes him a while but "....sorry for earlier."

"mhm i know katsuki."

There's no doubt in her mind that she's the only one with the privilege to hold him like this - so she'll wait for him, listen to his troubles and soothe the blonde seeking refuge.

In her eyes she doesn't see the angry hothead who strangers tend to avoid in the halls, but a wounded boy attempting to fix his past mistakes and accept himself to move forward.

Maybe this time - she can be his hero.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| this was inspired by an album called 'Cry' by Cigarettes After Sex (specifically the song 'cry' which can be heard at 27:44-32:01) : link! I think Bakugo is such a complex character and as seen in the show he often struggles with personal issues. In this fic, it's up to your interruption on what he's battling against! tags ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ     ⎯⎯ ✦

also i tried something different in the layout! as u can see i used colors for the first time to highlight a characters dialogue. whats more important is if YOU GUYS prefer this or not. please vote in the poll below so i can meet ur standards bc thats all i care about!

i put examples below if your confused (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

Option 1 Example : Bakugo mumbles with a scowl, "vote or your pillow will be warm tonight."

Option 2 Example : Bakugo mumbles with a scowl, "now fucking vote nerd."

[torawro]

LIKE SPECKS OF SUNLIGHT IN THE EARLY MORN. ( p. a.)

portgas d. ace & marine!fem!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, ageless and blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is written / portrayed as a black woman but you do not have to imagine it as such! everyone is welcome to read <3 reader wears glasses, and is a marine stationed on an unnamed island at a base along the grand line. ‘lazy morning’ / ‘morning after’ kind of vibes so, a bit of pillow talk (?) . references to smut & making love (it already happened). contains some angst & angsty themes throughout (i.e., ace dealing with his self esteem issues, low self worth, etc..) otherwise it’s supposed to be fluffy ( the quiet, somber kind i think ) ! descriptions of kissing & borderline making out. ace is kind of lovesick and clingy but it’s subtle-ish. lots of introspection and reflection on both him and the reader’s part. kind of based on mitski's "my love, mine all mine", definitely had that song on repeat as i wrote this. romantic and deeply poetic rhetoric but y’all already know that’s just how i write lol. told from omniscient point of view (third person). proofread this as i was feeling sleepy, so please excuse any mistakes or things that don’t make sense!

word count ━━ ! 3.9k

notes ━━ ! guess who's baaaaack.....! i know it's been a while since i have published any original work and i want to apologize for that. lately it's been difficult finding the energy to write something for more than five minutes and honestly, i think i just need to rediscover what drives me so i can tap into the zone more often. i missed it though, and hope i get to write more this year <3 anyway, first fic of 2025 and it feels right to make it about second commander of the whitebeard pirates, portgas d. ace. this fic is my late birthday 'gift' to him and something of a love letter because ohhhhh i miss my pookie bear so much :(( this entire idea started as just me thinking about kissing each of his freckles because i have the personal hc that he doesn't really like them, the reason for it is inherently tied to his distaste for his father and by extension himself :/ and then it just turned into this lmao. i hope ace doesn't behave too out of character here, as this is also my first time writing for him in any context, so pls be gentle with me. REBLOBS + COMMENTARY ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED.

IT WAS NOT THE LIGHT chirping of small birds that awoke you, nor was it the ringing of your biological clock telling you that the dawn was near. Instead it was a familiar tugging sensation within the pit of your stomach— the need to relieve yourself— that caused your eyes to peel themselves back slowly and with struggle, slumber from the previous night hasn’t been completely washed away yet.

It took your brain several more moments to dust off enough of its sleepy exhaustion before you attempted to sit up from your comfortable position in bed, but were immediately met with some light resistance.

The resistance in question was a long, muscled arm thrown around your soft torso, blackened ink of a tattoo staining the skin on its bicep. It was still too dark and you were still too tired to make out the sharp angles of the marking, but you knew what they were; your eyes have gazed upon it more times than you could count, and it has made a home in your memory.

That’s when your ears registered the rhythmic and almost nasal snores that flowed from the mouth of the man who held you so securely against his chest, and you almost smiled at how completely at ease and relaxed he seemed. 

At times like this, when things were still or you had a moment to yourself, you still could not wrap your head around the fact that you had gotten yourself involved with Portgas D. Ace— willingly at that. 

The first time was a fluke at best. That’s the excuse you were going to go with. You didn’t realize he was a pirate— an infamous pirate with hundreds of millions of Beri to his name— until your clothes were already halfway off and you were feverishly grinding down onto his lap like some touch-starved whore who’s been aching to feel something. That ‘fluke’ was one spurred on by alcohol, a particularly rough week at sea, and a sizable lapse in judgment, but you hadn’t felt that…… alive in a long time. But now, two years have passed since you have been seeing Ace in secret like this, and you have long since given up blaming it on a fragile emotional constitution further weakened by alcohol. You knew good and well what you were doing, and you could no longer deny the way your heart was constantly set aflutter whenever you spent any amount of time with him.

You did try your hardest to not let yourself enjoy how … domestic it all seemed: waking up next to him in the morning and falling asleep entangled with each other at night, having him hide out at your cozy apartment for days at a time, cooking him meals when you were relieved of your duties for the day. You wouldn’t— shouldn’t let yourself enjoy such content thoughts too much, because you also knew it could all be over in the blink of an eye. The world could be cruel that way if it wanted to.

But still, that didn’t mean you couldn’t be grateful for these moments. From what you could tell, Ace seemed to enjoy this arrangement as much as you did. And for now, that was enough.

Lightly wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you carefully lifted his arm from around you, moving slow so you wouldn’t wake him up. Once you’ve successfully loosened his hold, you sat upright, a muted ache shooting through your lower body as you shifted around to stand. The ache mostly resided in between your legs, and a flood of memories from just hours ago rushed over you at once, causing a tingling warmth to bloom underneath your skin. Ace had poured so much into you, it never failed to leave you equal parts stunned and breathless when you witnessed his passion overflow from the brim of his being. His hands, calloused palms that always ran hot, had been everywhere— your body could still feel the heat of where they had laid, caressed, groped, smacked, and squeezed. And you involuntarily jolted as you recalled where his fingers and lips had been, how it felt to be pressed so closely against him as he simultaneously took you apart. 

After another moment of being lost in your own reverie, you pulled yourself out of it and filed those memories away in a separate corner of your mind, so that you may more fully indulge in them later. As you carefully removed the blankets and climbed over the sleeping pirate, one bare foot had hardly hit the cool wooden floor before a hand wrapped itself around your wrist. 

A quiet grumbling noise vibrated from behind Ace’s lips, his eyes remained closed as he spoke, indicative that he was barely awake. “Wh…where y’goin’....?” His words were slurred and thick with sleep, his deep voice reaching the depths of your being to spark something to life in the pit of your belly. But you promptly ignored it for now. 

“To the bathroom, I gotta pee.”

He replied with another mumbling sort of noise, presumably one of acknowledgment or begrudging acquiescence— you couldn’t be sure. “M’kay, just . . . hurry back t’bed, will ya? M’cold.” 

You found amusement in the inherent irony of his claim that he was ‘cold’  when he always ran a little warmer than most— not to mention his devil fruit powers— but also in the fact that despite his urging you to take care of your business swiftly, he hasn't released his hold on your wrist yet. In fact, he tugged you a little closer to him, as if he was trying to pull you back into bed. 

A small smile began to curl at the corners of your lips as you moved to manually pry his fingers from your arm so you can make your way out of the bedroom and down the hall.

For the next several minutes, Ace was left alone. 

He stirred in his partially-awake state as he made himself comfortable again in bed, but one eye managed to pry itself open by a few millimeters. It was unfortunate he was roused from his deep  sleep, but he was sure he’d doze off again soon enough. 

From what he could see, the room was still dark for the most part, his surroundings washed in a rich, navy blue color, a telltale sign that the sun would rise within the next hour or so. Aside from the faint rustling coming from the bathroom, the air was occupied by a serene silence, meaning his innermost thoughts became that much more perceptible to his mind’s ear. 

Sometimes, a part of Ace felt like fate had shined upon him— just a little, just this once— when his mind mulled over his…unique relationship with you, and all the events that led up to this exact moment. He too understood the implications of seeing you like this, but he couldn’t find it within himself to let go and move on. There was just…something about you, something special. 

Even now, he still couldn’t quite understand why you were taking such a big risk and basically throwing your life away by getting comfortable with a pirate like him. The both of you came from two different worlds, the morals embedded within those worlds constantly pitted you against each other. 

But you willingly ignored them, and so did he. 

Perhaps that was the ‘special’ quality about you and this relationship that he still struggled to articulate, how pure and genuine it all felt— how you were. Either way, he was grateful that he wasn’t the only one being a little selfish. And every now and again, Ace might silently thank the universe for allowing him this one thing, even though he hasn’t, and probably never will do anything, to deserve it. 

The increasing volume of footsteps pulled Ace from his thoughts, and soon enough you reappeared in the doorway, making your way back to bed– back home in Ace’s arms.

Your lips parted in a yawn, putting your hand over your mouth to muffle the sound, before carefully climbing over the taller man to reclaim your spot next to him. Ace wasted no time encasing you against him once more, one arm laid lazily across your stomach and the other resting under your neck, acting somewhat as a pillow of sorts.

“...took too long,” the pirate muttered under his breath, the low, vibrating sound of his voice so close to your ear did nothing for your fiercely pulsating heart. It was the only organ in your entire body that seemed to be fully awake right now.

“I wasn’t even gone for that long, ya big baby. Prob’ly less than five minutes.” A soft sigh punctuated your reply, snuggling more into the toned front of Ace’s chest and abdomen as he adjusted the thick blankets over both of your bodies. The covers, as well as the gentle warmth radiating from his exposed skin, provided a steady stream of heat that battled against the crisp morning air, both sensations nearly enough to lull you back to sleep. You enthusiastically pushed aside the fact that you had to get up again in two and a half hours for your shift to patrol around the city.

“Shuddup, let’s go to sleep.” Ace grumbled, pulling you even closer to him so that very little space existed between both of you, and nearly nuzzling his face in the bonnet you wore on your head. A soundless chuckle rumbled within your chest, finding his sleepy and almost pouty tone both amusing and adorable.

However, despite his own request, and the fact that his own eyes were barely open, Ace was finding it difficult to once more quiet his thoughts enough to drift back to sleep. They were still a bit too loud and knocked against his skull too much. 

Such thoughts only seemed to intensify when both of his eyes managed to peel themselves open this time in order to observe your form next to him. From what he could see based on where he laid, Ace silently took note of how tranquil your expression was as your breathing began to even out, how long your eyelashes actually were without your glasses obscuring them, and the small birthmark on your cheek that he developed a habit of kissing. His dark eyes roamed across every inch of your face, and he relished in the soft flesh of your stomach underneath his fingertips, giving it a feather-light squeeze every now and again.

You were here with him— in this bed, hardly wearing anything at all, and practically clinging to the arm wrapped around your abdomen— bound together with a kiss on that fateful night two years ago. You wanted to be here, he knew that. So why was it he still had to wrestle with the phantoms of doubt in the darker sectors of his mind? Why did they haunt him so, and prevent him from just plainly accepting this for what it is? Accept that it was okay to indulge, okay to claim this one thing as his and his alone? He didn’t even claim his own father, but this— you? Oh, how he wanted to be greedy, he yearned for it. But something in him, some dark, caustic, unforgiving thing, made him feel like he shouldn’t.

But didn’t he deserve something nice too? Something that wasn’t, or could no longer be tainted by the wicked and unloving world they were born into?

Ace knew that you cared for him— quite a lot, more than you should. There was a four letter word he might have used to label the way in which you cared about him, and he about you, but he dare not say it. He dared not say it in fear that the universe would snatch it away the moment it left his lips, and reveal that it was only playing a heartless joke on him.

“Hey. Are you… okay? Okay with this, I mean.” The words left his lips without putting a real thought behind them, for his mind was preoccupied with trying to keep itself afloat above the sea of negative ones that tried to carry him off to a place he did not want to visit.

Your left eye opened, then your right, as if opening them would help you better process his sudden question. Your brows furrowed next, digging deeper into your forehead in order to figure out the hidden meaning behind his words— or if there was one to begin with. “I…this position is fine, and I’m comfortable. Unless you want to be closer to the window?” You replied with your own question, uncertainty of what he was asking about thick in your tone. And judging by the way his arm tightened around you by a fraction and the nearly inaudible sigh that left his lips, it became clear that’s not what he was truly asking.

“No, I meant…are you okay with us?” Ace’s already husky voice quieted even more, nearly tapering off into a whisper. But he was pressed close enough to you that you were still able to hear him loud and clear. Something about the way he phrased his question rang a silent alarm in your head, indicating that the forthcoming conversation was going to take a more solemn turn.

With that in mind you shifted in his arms, turning around so that you were now facing Ace directly, still so close that the tips of your noses nearly touched each other. His hold on you readjusted as a result, the tattooed arm once more staking its claim on your waist and effectively trapping you against his front. His sable tresses fell unceremoniously across his face, a few strands nearly covering one of his eyes. Your fingers didn’t miss the opportunity to brush them away. 

“Yes.” Your reply was simple, and you thought it important to make that clear first because something, an emotion you were unable to categorize, flickered in his still-hooded eyes. And something about it worried you. “I am more than okay with us. There isn’t another person I’d rather be with right now.” The fingers lingering on his skin suddenly became your entire palm, as you were now cupping the side of his face.

Ace burned even warmer here compared to the rest of his body, and you found physical comfort in the sensation. His skin seemed to ignite under your touch despite his sleepiness, and the dark-haired pirate was internally grateful that it was still quite dark in your room, so you were unable to see the light flush that was beginning to form underneath his freckled cheeks. 

“Why are you asking?” Your inquiry was as tender as your touch, and it made his chest ache. 

It took Ace several seconds to search for his next words and arrange them in a sentence, for your straightforward reply admittedly caught him off-guard. Now he was unsure if there was a need to continue at all.

But the specters of doubt were ever persistent.

“I just…” The words faded away on his tongue before he could say them and instead, your response rang loud in his head. 

‘There isn’t another person I’d rather be with right now’.

Did you mean that? Have you always felt that way? Did you just happen to say that because he asked a question, because somehow you knew that’s what something in his soul wanted to hear?

And then, Ace found his words again. “You can do better, you know.” His voice turned more gruff, rough around the edges, as if he had to forcefully tug those words from the back of his throat. As if it hurt to say that. “You could, if you wanted. You’re gorgeous. Intelligent, resourceful. You have a respectable career, and you can cook damn good.”

You released a soft chuckle at that last part, finding it comical how he always found a way to talk about how good your food was. But whatever uptick on your lips faded as soon as it came once Ace parted his lips to speak again.

“You don’t have to spend your time, money, or energy on someone like me. You didn’t have to spread those pretty legs of yours for me, either. Didn’t have to let me stay here whenever I come to town. You didn’t even have to let me sleep in this bed so close to you.”

He paused, the muscles laying against and wrapped around you tensed briefly, his eyelashes met the apples of his cheeks when he allowed his eyes to close for a moment. When he opened them again, he found it harder to look at you— if he did, he might crumble away. “You could do better than a pirate like me, who has nothing going for himself except for instability, anger and…and hate. So, why?”

The next words reverberated in the air without Ace even having to say them. Why choose me? Why risk all of that for me?

Similarly, something throbbed uncomfortably within your chest as you listened to him speak, even after he finished and silence descended upon the both of you. 

You could only wonder where this line of questioning originated from. It was uncharacteristic of Ace to voice thoughts of this nature, even more so when there was no prior word or action to lure them forward. You continued to observe him in the quiet, not even realizing that you had been softly caressing his cheek all this while until your hand came to a halt.

Why? Why were you with Ace, entangled in every sense of the word and jeopardizing the life you’ve built for yourself for his sake? The answer seemed so simple, but not as much now that you had to consciously think about it; you somehow struggled to put it into words. 

Ace was like the rays of sunlight that peeked through heavy drapes in the early morning— much like they would soon be in a few hours— or like the flickering flames of a small fire that offered you solace on an unkind wintery night. He was warm and intense, but mellow and tender at the same time, in his own way. He offered you comfort when you needed it, stirred up something in you when you wanted it, brightened your life when you didn’t even realize how dull and monochrome it was. Ace was…

“Allow me to offer a question of my own. Why are you taking an equally significant, if not greater risk, just to curl up in my bed with me? Why come back so often to this town, risking capture, if only to hold me close, eat the food I make, and to make love to me?”

Your inquiries seemed to tug you forward, motivating you to scoot a little closer to Ace so that there was hardly even an iota of space existing in between your faces. His breath hitched quietly in his chest at that, more so when you leaned forward and simply placed your lips on his cheek, right on top of the dozens of prominent and faded freckles that resided there. Something about the gesture felt intentional— like you did not kiss his face, but the light specks on top of it. And thinking about it like that made his taut chest twinge again in a manner he could not describe right now.

Your breaths against his flesh were soft and leveled, and successfully fanned the flames of an even pinker flush to blossom across his visage.

He struggled to give you a coherent answer to your questions because his inner thoughts seemed to reset every time your plush lips came in contact with his face— all gentle like he would break if you applied too much pressure. He never associated that word with himself before, nor had anyone else in his entire life.

So why did he do it? Why did he do any of it? Why was he so attached to you, to your existence, your presence, and everything that reminded him of you? 

Ace knew the answer. 

He fears he’s known it for some time now.

But would it be right— would it be okay to label it with the word that was sitting on his tongue? Did he truly have the capacity to bear the weight of it? Would this blissful reality he found himself nestled in start to unravel the moment he said it? Would the universe truly let him have this one thing to himself, forever?

A feathery, open-mouthed kiss from you onto his nose cut off his thoughts, but confirmed his answer. 

A bleary sort of smile, edges softened by his affection for you, tugged the corners of Ace’s mouth upwards. The hand that encased your waist traveled further downwards to take the meat of your thigh in its grasp, and toss it over his own hips. He had slung your leg over himself in an attempt to hold your bodies inexplicably closer, the feeling of his fingers gliding lazily across your exposed skin caused your pulse to quicken.

“I understand. Thank you.” 

Within another second or two, his mouth eventually met with yours. His lips and yours seamlessly molded together, like they were two carved parts of the same whole. It was a slow, saccharine thing, ultimately leading your fingertips to slide back and thread themselves through his dark locks, and the calloused, hot palm on your thigh to grip the area ever tighter— as if you’d evaporate if he didn’t do so.

Ace loved you— was in love with you. His heart thrummed against his chest when he tossed that fact around in his head, gradually accepting it to be true as he steadily deepened the kiss.

He murmured those three words into your mouth after languidly coaxing it open with his tongue so the wet muscle could slither inside and make a home there. It was barely intelligible, but somehow you knew what he’d said. Such a declaration was only reserved for you, so of course you recognized it. Ace didn’t even want the words to linger in the air, lest the universe heard what he had said. He still thanked it though, grateful to whatever deities thrusted you into his path that night so that he could have this moment with you, and build similar ones like this hereafter.

You reciprocated it, quietly sighing the words back into him and he eagerly swallowed them up, giving your thigh an affectionate squeeze in response.

Briefly, you pulled back, but only by a millimeter— not wanting the cold air of the early morning to catch you yet— and your palm ended up on Ace’s jaw. The pad of your thumb brushed over the sheet of freckles with no particular pattern or rhythm, and you absently thought about how they might be your favorite feature on his entire body. As if to emphasize this point, you pressed a lingering kiss onto its surface again, and for a moment, Ace thought he might shut down. He simply could not comprehend the loving nature behind such a simple act, or why it affected him so; all he could do was offer a small, fond grin.

Time still marched forward, but it graciously allowed the pair of lovers to bask in each other for a little while longer. The sky’s hue would slowly shift from a deep navy blue to a slightly brighter one, causing the dimness of the room to inch back into its corners for the day. The sunlight would soon come.

( # ) @icy-spicy @triangularz @pookieace @ichore @valentineluvu

[illyrianbitch]

Pretty Little Shadowsinger

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Based off this request: I want something silly, like there’s just no explanation given. Cassian walks in on reader dressing Az in one of her dresses or something and Cassian is just like 👈🧍‍♂️😳😏😍

Warnings: fluff, just them all being a lil silly, az in a dress, mentions of boobies and swearing

Word Count: 1.3k

a/n: me making "drabbles" over 1k, also not fully edited so squint at any mistakes and pretend they arent there <3

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“Oh my gods,” you gushed, bringing your hands up to your face. “Look at you. Such a pretty little shadowsinger.”

Azriel tried to maintain his usual stone-faced demeanor, but a faint blush crept onto his cheeks despite his best efforts. He was suppressing back a smile, too. Not because he particularly loved the situation he was in, but because of how giddy you had been for the past hour as you shoved him in many of your countless dresses. The one he wore now was itchy and uncomfortably loose, and he felt a draft that he wasn't accustomed to. But he endured it, solely because of the joy it brought you.

Azriel raised an eyebrow skeptically, his lips twitching with the effort not to smile. “Uh huh.”

"Aw, c'mon," you insisted, stepping closer to him. "It really brings out your figure."

You maneuvered yourself between his wings, wrapping your arms around his torso and guiding him to look at the mirror. Balancing yourself on your tiptoes, you peeked over his shoulder to make eye contact with him. His shadows followed the movement, a dark mass now clustered above his other shoulder as if they, too, were watching in amusement.

He glanced at his reflection with a scrunched face. He’d seen this dress on you multiple times, had complimented you on the beautiful blue of it— one that perfectly matched his siphons. Had even ripped it off after events in an attempt to ravage you as soon as he could— that later fact felt slightly strange now considering he was the one wearing it. The dress in front of him, however, was quite frankly the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. Azriel realized now, more than ever, that the female truly did make the dress. But then again, you were the most gorgeous female in Prythian, so why was he so surprised that you made everything else just as beautiful?

"Should I be concerned I fit into this?"

You let out a small laugh, tightening your hold around his waist.

"You've always had a dainty ballerina waist, babe," you teased, watching as he rolled his eyes playfully in response, a small smile forming at the edges of his mouth.

Azriel turned his head to look down at you over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

"But don't worry.” You gave him another little squeeze. “It doesn't zip up in the back. Your boobs are too big," you added, your hands moving to jokingly squeeze his pecs.

Azriel scoffed lightly and lifted your hands off him, turning around to face you. He struggled for a moment as the fabric of the dress moved around his heavy boots and you bit your lip to suppress your laughter at the movement.

His eyes met yours as he finally faced you, gently holding your hands in his, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Shadows curled around where your hands met, cool and light. "Alright, those are muscles," he remarked teasingly. "Pecs."

You nodded, scrunching your nose playfully. "Uh-uh.”

"Real big, tough muscles," he continued, emphasizing his point. He leaned in closer to you.

"Boobs," you interjected with a grin. The face Azriel wore, now, could almost be interpreted as one of unamusement had it not been for the glint in his eyes and the subtle upturn of his lips.

He shook his head with a soft laugh. "What am I going to do with you?"

You pretended to contemplate for a moment, looking away in exaggerated thought. "Hmmm… maybe kiss me?"

Azriel’s eyes softened, a dimpled smile appearing on his face. “I can do that.”

He leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips, the moment melting away in the warmth of his mouth, in the way that your eyes shuttered closed. You let out a hum of delight.

Too caught up in the moment, you both failed to hear the sound of your door opening until it was far too late.

"Hey guys, have you seen—" Cassian's voice trailed off as he stepped inside, taking in the view before him.

It was Azriel who pulled apart first, neck snapping to face his brother at a speed so fast you barely blinked. You, however, opted to slowly turn to look at him, already preparing yourself for the look on his face.

“What-” Cassian paused, face falling into a confused scowl. He rebalanced himself, putting his weight on his other leg. He moved again as he placed his hands on his hips. Then once more, as he pointed towards Azriel with a lazy finger. “Whats, uh, whats going on here?”

“Get out,” was Azriels only reply.

Cassian pursed his lips, eyes narrowing at his brother. His gaze flickered to you for a moment, taking in your tightly pressed lips, clearly containing a laugh, and then he looked back at Azriel.

"Nice dress, loser, but I don't think you have the right amount of cleavage to pull it off.”

A low growl rumbled in Azriel's chest as he rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

You wondered if the growl was a reaction of embarrassment from your mate or if it was in response to Cassian alluding to your own cleavage. Both answers made you want to laugh.

But Cassian only grinned, a large amused smile— one that said he was just starting his strange, annoying torment. You sighed, mouth falling open into a smile despite your best efforts.

"Cass,” you said, bringing his attention to you. “You can't just barge into my room. What if we were naked? Right in the middle of having sex? Hmm?"

A hint of playful sarcasm laced your words.

Cassian's smirk widened. "Would've been a lot more normal than this," he responded, earning another eye-roll from Azriel and a snort of laughter from you.

"Get out," Azriel ordered again, his tone firm– and exasperated, almost– as he gestured towards the door.

You couldn't help but notice how Azriel's shadows seemed to shift, now positioned strategically at his chest where the fabric of the dress dipped to expose what would normally be your cleavage. You struggled to contain another laugh.

Cassian ignored him, hands gesturing between the two of you.

“So is this like a kink? Or is Azzie just wanting to get some better fashion sense?”

Azriel stared at him with a clenched jaw at the nickname, tossing and tired glance your way. You met your mates gaze with a small shrug and let out a small breath of amusement.

“Okay, c’mon,” you told Cassian, “He just lost a bet, that's all.”

You grimaced the instant the words came from your mouth, watching as Cassian’s eyes lit up. You looked at Azriel, watching as his face fell slightly. Oh no.

“You-” Cassian began to grin wide. “You lost a bet? To Y/n? You lost a bet, and now you're wearing a dress.”

Azriel tilted his head in warning. “Cassian.”

A second passed. And then Cassian was letting out a loud, boisterous laugh, eyes wide and wild. “Oh my gods.”

“Stop it,” Azriel warned.

It didn’t matter. Cassian instantly turned around, his loud voice echoing throughout the halls. “Az lost a bet! Az lost a bet and he’s wearing a dress! Rhys!”

“Cassian!” Azriel moved to chase after him, only to stumble over the excess fabric of the dress, the silk material wrapping awkwardly around his boots. You bursted into laughter, rushing to his side to help him up and bunch up the fabric to prevent any further struggles.

Your mate grumbled under his breath, words cursing the long dress and his brother. With a sheepish smile, Azriel gathered the dress in his hands and bolted down the hallway, cheeks painted in a dusty pink.

You watched him go, still chuckling at the absurdity of it all. As Azriel disappeared around the corner, still yelling a variety of threats at Cassian, his shadows curled around you and your shoulders.

"He kinda works that dress better than I do, huh?" you remarked to them, quietly enough that the words only filled the air near you.

The shadows seemed to ripple in amusement, as if laughing along with you at the scene.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

i added a lil explanation given cause lets be fr... cassian wouldnt bother az about the dress (hed probably wanna try one on too and nesta would be pissed hes ripping all of hers) but az LOSING at something....mans is never letting that go!!!!!

tag lists!

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @nighttimemoonlover

azriel tag list🫶🏻: @thisiskaylin

[skyguytoast]

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN X COSPLAYER!READER - PART THREE

SYNOPSIS: Hayden helps you craft your new cosplay.

WARNING: none, just fluff

WORDS: 1.4k

A/N: as always i open for request, don’t be shy…anyway, comments, reblogs are appreciated. kisses and good reading 🥰🤩

It hadn’t taken long for Hayden to realize that dating a cosplayer was... well, an adventure.

He’d wake up to the hum of your sewing machine instead of the coffee pot, catching you cross-legged on the floor, stitching layer after layer of a pleated skirt like it was a sacred ritual. He’d go for a quick morning run and come back to find you painted head-to-toe in green, or blue, or whatever shade your latest project required—half-dressed, paintbrush between your teeth, mumbling about "undertones" and "screen accuracy."

It was chaos. But it was your chaos.

Even when his favorite hoodie ended up smeared with streaks of body paint, Hayden never got mad. He just laughed, tugged it over his head, and tossed it in the laundry with a fond, “Remind me again what character is green this time?”

What really struck him was how dedicated you were. For all the long hours he’d spent on film sets, learning lines and fighting off the fatigue that came with ten-hour days, he couldn’t imagine how you handled whole weekends in full costume—posing for pictures, performing in-character nonstop, barely breaking for water.

You made it look effortless.

And, truthfully, Hayden loved helping you. Whether it was running lines when you cosplayed Padmé or practicing stances with you in the backyard because “Ahsoka would never stand like that,” he was all in.

This time, it was Bo-Katan.

Which explained why he was currently in the living room, carefully wrapping loop after loop of duct tape around your torso while you stood on a stool in leggings and an old tank top.

“Are you sure it’s not too tight, babe?” he asked, brow furrowed with concern. The tape was cinched snugly around your waist and chest, and he was suddenly aware of how hard it must be to breathe.

“That’s the goal, love,” you said with a soft laugh. “It has to be skin-tight so the mold’s accurate.”

Hayden made a small, worried face, like he wasn’t entirely convinced this was necessary but would do anything you asked anyway. “Alright. But if you pass out on me, I’m blaming the Mandalorians.”

You giggled, and that sound was all it took to ease the tightness in his chest. He kept going, wrapping layer after layer, occasionally pausing to ask if you were okay, if anything pinched, if he should slow down. Every few minutes, his fingers brushed your side a little too gently for someone supposedly “taping armor.”

“Okay,” you finally said, once the last piece was smoothed flat. “Time to cut it off.”

Hayden nodded, reaching for the scissors with exaggerated caution. His movements were slow and deliberate, his tongue poking out in concentration. He really didn’t want to mess this up.

“Just cut along the sides,” you coached softly. “And go slow, so you don’t ruin the chest section.”

“I got it, I got it,” he murmured, even as his hands trembled slightly.

Once the mold peeled away from your body in a neat, clean shape, you held it up, turning it in your hands, a smile lighting up your face.

“It turned out amazing,” you beamed, looking down at Hayden with so much affection it made his heart ache.

He looked up at you, eyes wide, cheeks a little pink. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “You killed it.”

His smile bloomed, that shy, boyish grin that made you melt every time. “So… what’s next?” he asked, already scooting closer to you, clearly ready to take on whatever crazy crafting task came next if it meant spending a few more hours like this—with you, in your element, happy.

You reached down, brushing his hair back gently from his face. “Next is tracing the pattern onto foam. Wanna help?”

Hayden didn’t even hesitate. “Only if I get to wear the helmet when it’s done.”

You laughed. “Deal. But no promises you’ll look as good as me.”

He grinned. “Never doubted that for a second.”

And just like that, you got back to work, Hayden kneeling faithfully at your side, his sleeves pushed up as he watched you trace the armor pattern onto foam like it was an ancient craft passed down through generations.

Your focus was so absolutely—tongue sticking out, brow furrowed, brush in hand as you layered glue and paper mache over the base. You were deep in it, completely lost in the rhythm, when suddenly a plate slid into view in front of your face.

A perfectly cut triangle sandwich. Neatly chopped apples on the side.

Your stomach growled like a starved creature.

“When did you leave?” you blinked, genuinely surprised as you set the brush down with a soft thunk. You turned to find Hayden already settling in next to you again, casual and smug.

“You were too busy crafting your beskar masterpiece,” he said with a knowing smile, one brow arched. “So I figured I’d sneak off and make you something before you fully forgot you’re a living being who needs food.”

Your expression softened into a sheepish smile as you picked up the sandwich, holding it with two hands like a kid. “Thank you, love,” you mumbled between bites. “I guess I got carried away. Again.”

Hayden leaned back on his hands, watching you with amused affection as you chewed. “It’s okay. That’s why I’m here. To remind you that cosplay doesn’t count as actual nutrition.”

You let out a quiet laugh, nudging his knee with your foot. “That line absolutely belongs on a sticker.”

He shrugged. “I’ll pitch it to Etsy.”

After a moment, he reached over to pull you gently against him, arm looping around your waist as you leaned your head on his shoulder, still munching on your sandwich. His other hand brushed over the foam armor pieces laid out across the floor, careful not to smudge your work.

“Almost done?” he asked softly, glancing down at the pile of supplies, the bits of duct tape still sticking to the floor.

You sighed contentedly. “Not even close. I’m just finishing the structure. It needs to dry for at least a couple days before we move on to sanding and painting and sealing and—” You stopped yourself, laughing. “Basically, no. But I’m getting there.”

Hayden kissed the top of your head and smiled into your hair. “Then I guess we have a few more cozy craft nights ahead of us.”

“Mm,” you hummed, wrapping your fingers around his hand, squeezing gently. “As long as there’s more of your sandwiches, I think I’ll survive.”

“Don’t worry, darling, I plan to take such good care of my girlfriend,” Hayden promised, smiling at you like you were the only thing in the galaxy that mattered.

You felt it — the weight of that smile. That quiet, steady kind of love that didn’t need grand gestures or a red carpet, just little things. Like triangle sandwiches. And apples. And duct tape armor.

You leaned into him, your cheek resting against his shoulder as his thumb traced lazy, soothing circles against the curve of your waist.

“I think you already do,” you whispered.

He turned his head to press a kiss to your temple, the kind of kiss that lingered—his lips soft and warm, his breath a hush against your skin. “Good,” he murmured, “but I still plan to outdo myself.”

You laughed quietly, letting your eyes flutter closed for a moment. Around you, the living room was a beautiful disaster of glue sticks, foam scraps, reference photos, and love. It didn’t matter that you weren’t even halfway done with the armor. It didn’t matter that your fingers were sticky, or that Hayden had somehow managed to get duct tape stuck to his sock.

What mattered was this.

Him. Here. Now.

“Once Bo-Katan’s finished,” Hayden said softly, “I think you should take her out into the world. To a con. In full armor. Helmet and all.”

You blinked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “And I’ll be right there with you. Front row. Taking pictures. Holding your helmet when you need a break. Carrying your bag like a doting little roadie.”

You giggled, your heart swelling. “You’d really go?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said, pressing another kiss just behind your ear. “And since I help bring this cosplay to life, it'd be awkward if I didn’t.”

That made you laugh again—full and bright and real—and Hayden grinned, looking completely smitten.

“Besides,” he added, resting his forehead gently against yours, “you make saving the galaxy look really, really good.”

''I learned from the best'' You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he whispered. “Now and always.”

And as the stars blinked outside your window and the armor dried in the corner, you let yourself believe it fully, completely, without question.

You were safe. You were loved. And you had Hayden as your crafting partner, your biggest fan, and the softest space to fall.

Not a bad deal at all.

TAG LIST: @ihearthayden @anakinstwinklebunny @sometimescharlolette @awhhayden @dessxoxsworld @throughparisallthroughrome

[sage-green-matcha]

Can you do one in a treehouse with experienced ethan and fully virgin reader smut pls

(only if u want to)

PICTURE ME IN THE TREES - ETHAN LANDRY 🌬️

Losing your virginity with Ethan in your childhood treehouse <3

MINORS DNI!

Content includes: SMUT! P in V sex, sweet Ethan!

A/n: I love this request sm! Hope you enjoy my love 🫶

<3

<3

<3

Ethan’s hand was softly intertwined with yours, your shoulder slightly bumping into him with each step.

Dead leaves crunched under your feet, the smell of autumn filling your nose.

You had started going on evening walks with Ethan, just something small to appreciate each other.

“I didn’t know you had a treehouse” Ethan covered his eyes from the sun, looking up into the tiny house that was surrounded by forest.

“Yea, It was my little hideout when I was younger” You took his hand closer as you walked towards the forest, ending up in front of the tall, fragile ladder.

“Ladies first” His eyes were slightly scared, but you knew this ladder could hold anyone up. Your hands grabbed onto the broken wood, careful to not get any splinters on your hands.

Your knees hit the old wood, stepping inside while Ethan followed. Memories of your time spent here rushed into your brain.

It was really dusty, but it was nice. Your mom had it built for you, with a full bed and bookshelf. Ripped posters hung from the walls, string lights surrounding the ceiling.

“This is surprisingly nice” His eyes twinkled once you turned the string lights on, the warm hue making him feel warm inside.

You made your way over to the bed, shaking off the small amount of dirt that was on the throw blanket. Ethan sat next to you, his curly head of hair on your shoulder while he played with the rings on your finger.

“It’s so nice in here”

“Yea…my little self loved it in here. But I haven’t come up in ages”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why not?”

“The divorce was messy, it reminded me too much of my mom so I avoided it at all costs. What a waste though, I could’ve cleaned this place up and used it for something else.”

His lips brushed against your neck, sending a tingling sensation down your spine. Your skin was sensitive to his touch, even the slightest brush made you melt.

“Ethan…” You smiled, turning your head towards him. “What?” He knew what he was doing, and it wasn’t a horrible idea.

Just by the way you looked inside the small house made him realize how much you missed it. The only reason you stopped loving it was because of bad memories. If he gave you a good one…maybe you’ll love it again.

You pushed yourself closer to Ethan, his lips now sucking on your neck. You felt nervous, anxiety bubbling up in your tummy.

You weren’t very experienced, scratch that…you lacked it. You remember watching a video of how to please yourself, but you never felt anything so you gave up.

You moved yourself down to his lips, soft and sweet as he took your face into his hands.

You made it clear to Ethan that you wanted to take things slow. He respected that, and he knew it would make your first time that much more special.

“I like you a lot, Y/n”

“I know”

Your whispers traveled around the cold room, the sound of wet kisses on skin mixing with your voice.

His large hands grabbed at your skin, desperate to taste the flavor of your lips.

Gently, his hand ran up your shirt, his warm skin on your stomach.

“Can I take this off?” Your brain screamed, trying not to show how flustered you were getting. You nodded your head, but it wasn’t enough for Ethan. He needed to make sure you were definitely okay with it, definitely comfortable.

“Tell me”

“Yes,” You gulped, Ethan, pulling the fabric off your torso. Your nipples hardened under your bra, cold air brushing against your skin.

Ethan slipped his shirt off, a kiss placed roughly on your puffy lips. You took your hands to his chest, tracing his slightly toned skin. “You’re so touchy” You looked up to give him a small glare.

His hands held onto your hips as you closed your eyes, Ethan spreading apart your naked legs. Your core glistened in front of him, his cock hard at the sight.

“Ready?”

“Mhm”

You took a deep breath as you felt his cock stretch out your walls. “It hurts Eth” you mumbled, face slightly pained under him. “I know baby, I know. I’m sorry” He whispered sweet things in your ear as you took all of him, the feeling being good yet bad at the same time.

Ethan could barely breathe. Your cunt was so tight, milking his cock perfectly. He swore he could’ve busted right there.

Slowly, he pulled back his hips before thrusting back Into you, your pussy getting used to the feeling. The feeling of pain quickly dissolved as he thrusted, pleasure radiating all over your body.

He kept a slow and steady pace, but he was desperate for more. He didn’t know it, but you were too. Through broken words, your mumbled, Ethan was surprised. “Faster” He didn’t think twice, thrusting and pushing his hips into you in faster movements.

He didn’t go any harder, and you were glad. You probably would’ve melted right there.

A layer of sweat formed on your face, small moans and whimpers fell from your lips.

Sounds of skin slapping filled your ears, you were so overwhelmed, feeling yourself float in your senses.

You let out a small whimper as he touched your clit, applying hard pressure to your sensitive bud. You tensed up your legs, your chest rising up and down quickly.

You felt yourself go stupid on his cock, whispering words you never thought you’d be admitting. “What’s that sweetheart?” You gulped as he went inside you harder, seconds away from his release.

“I’m all yours, I’m all…yours” Your eyes rolled back, legs shaking as you felt a tight knot in your stomach stretch, so close to snapping.

Moans fell from your lips, your legs aching from Ethan’s harsh thrusts. But you couldn’t complain, it felt too good for you to feel the pain in the moment.

Ethan groaned in your ear, rubbing your clit faster as he noticed your breathing becoming uneven. Your back arched as you felt that tie snap, legs shaking as cum oozed from your hole, covering Ethan’s veiny cock.

Quickly, he pulled out of you, strings of cum being shot onto your stomach. You were too fucked out to care, your lips parted while you rolled to your side, trying to catch your breath.

He placed his hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles on your skin. His lips made marks and kisses on your legs, pulling you closer to him by your waist.

He brushed the sweaty hair out of your face, kissing you softly. You didn’t say anything, instead burying your face into his chest, legs to your stomach while he hugged you.