#well now I HAVE to draw these two kissing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blainesebastian · 2 days ago

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consequences

word count: 10,329 ship: Nick Leister x reader rating: NC-17 (for some smut, suggestive sexual language, expletives and uncomfy situations for reader--TW: assault) summary: Nick's tried his best to stay on the right track, to put fighting behind him. But when Ronnie threatens people closest to him, he has to decide whether another time in the ring will create more problems or end them. notes: 🎉🎉🎉 in getting two more films! can't wait to see what inspiration they bring notes2: gifs from this gif pack. masterlist here, thanks for reading!

This is one of the downsides, you think, to having a reputation in the ring.

Biting on your lower lip, you cross your arms over your chest and lean against the counter where Nick is sitting on a stool. Lion lets out a long sigh through his nose, shrugging his one shoulder as he glances at his girlfriend before looking back at Nick. The whole situation makes you nauseous. Nick hasn’t fought in over a month, seemingly putting speaking with his fists and voicing his frustrations through bruised knuckles behind him. You’ve been proud that he’s been able to take a step back like that…it’s definitely not something that came easy. But he did it for Maddie, for you, not wanting to put himself into situations like that anymore.

And yet here Ronnie is, trying to drag him back into it.

“What, he just walked into your gym and demanded a fight with Nick?” You ask, not being able to connect the dots.

Nick hasn’t even been to the gym lately, not in any official capacity. He boxes there, gloves on, to keep in shape, and he’s gone to watch a few fights that Lion has set up. But Ronnie hasn’t been around, the whisperings are that he’s been in jail, and your boyfriend hasn’t been causing any waves. So what the fuck?

Lion rubs the back of his neck, “You know what he’s like, he just sinks his teeth into someone and won’t let go.”

Nick scoffs, shaking his head, running a hand over the lower half of his face. You can sense the annoyance rolling off his body in waves, thick like smoke. His shoulders are coiled and one of his hands is flexing into a fist. You want to touch him but also know that you shouldn’t right now. You step a little closer, anyways, your hip brushing his knee. He draws in a slow breath, his hand splaying along your lower back, thumb working in circles. It’s better than nothing.

“Well I’m not fighting him, so I’m not sure what the fuck he wants out of this.”

“What he always wants,” Jenna grumbles, playing with one of her thin braids between her fingers, “To get under your skin.”

“He’s definitely accomplishing that.” Nick replies.

You roll your lower lip into your mouth, already knowing the answer to this question, yet you have to ask it anyways, “What happens when Nick doesn’t fight?”

Lion doesn’t reply but he does glance at his friend, the response obvious in his eyes. Nick’s jaw clenches, as if he’s clamping down on his molars, before leaning back a bit on the stool. Lion puts his hands up in a ‘don’t shoot the messenger’ gesture,

“Just communicating what he told me.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Nick bristles, though his iciness is not intended for Lion.

Jenna glances between you and Nick, reaching for Lion’s hand, “C’mon, let’s head home. It’s late.”

You give her a grateful expression, a small wave for both of your friends as they head out of the kitchen and down the hall to exit through the front door. The kitchen is quiet in their absence, the sound of the refrigerator running and your shared breathing the only ambiance filling the space. You turn a little to face Nick, your hand coming up to cup his cheek.

He flinches a little before his shoulders relax, pulled from thoughts racing through his head. You draw your thumb back and forth along his cheekbone, slipping between his legs to press a kiss to his forehead. He lets out a long sigh, his eyes fluttering closed, his hand gripping your hip like he needs that lifeline.

You feel so fucking frustrated for him to be put into this position, all for the ridiculous reasons that boil down to Ronnie wanting to hurt someone. You don’t know the guy very well, have never wanted to since the moment you’ve met him, but lashing out like that just tells you that he’s severely unhappy with himself. This has got nothing to do with Nick.

There’s an ache that begins in your chest, behind your ribs, when Nick leans forward until his forehead meets your shoulder. You turn your head a little, pressing a few kisses above his ear, your eyes closing for a moment. Nick, who’s worked so hard at leaving drama behind him for the sake of his relationship with his mom, his sister, himself. You hate that he’s being placed between a rock and a hard place, wishing there was something you could do to help.

When he pulls back, he sniffs, his soft brown eyes meeting your own. He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your lower lip before he leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” He says after a moment and your eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, this isn’t your fault.”

Nick bites down on the inside of his cheek, “Just feel like you shouldn’t have to put up with so much shit.”

A soft laugh tumbles out of your mouth, voice slightly teasing as you say, “I dunno, I feel like you’re worth it.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, not quite a smile, but you’ll take it. He wraps his arms around you, keeping you close, and you lean against his chest, your hands settling on his shoulders. He doesn’t outright object to what you’ve said, but you can see the skeptical look in his gaze. You’re not sure what else you can offer him and you can tell he senses that exasperation with the gentle squeeze he gives you.

You raise your eyebrows, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m not going to fight him.” He mentions quietly.

Nick breathes in, tipping his head down to press a kiss to your collarbone. It’s unspoken, he doesn’t know what the alternative answer is. Your stomach does an uneasy swirl, like you’re on top of a roller coaster…no idea what’s towards the bottom as the cart begins to plummet. Closing your eyes a moment, you press your forehead against his.

“I know.” You whisper.

Unfortunately, that’s what you’re worried about.

—

It’s not difficult to avoid the places Ronnie usually frequents. The boxing gym, the underground racing ring, those are spots that sometimes your group ends up in, but more often than not, it’s random parties and clubs that have your attention. Nick says he’s not going to fight, but you also know what it’s like when his buttons are pressed. If he’s pushed hard enough, long enough, he’ll do what he has to. That’s the last thing you want to happen. Nick might be able to carry a win in the ring, but that doesn’t mean Ronnie’s going to respect that? Not only that, you don’t want to think about what will happen if he…

Closing your eyes, you pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache kissing your temples.

Win or lose, this might not end well for Nick, and that has you squirming with nerves. Lion’s been in the group thread saying that he hasn’t seen Ronnie around, either, which also has you feeling fucking uneasy. Where is he? Just lying in wait? The guy has a short fuse and a violent streak, he won’t just forget about challenging Nick.

“Y/N?”

Your head snaps up, blinking at the barista holding onto your iced coffee. It’s clearly the second or third time they’ve said your name. A flush covers your cheeks and you step forward, an apologetic smile on your lips.

“Sorry, thank you.”

You pop a straw into the lid and tug your phone out of your pocket when it begins to vibrate, a fluttering beginning in your stomach as you see Nick’s name flash across the screen.

“Hi,” You hold the phone between your ear and shoulder, making your way towards the exit, “I promise I’m on my way.”

You can hear the smile in Nick’s voice, “You stopped for coffee, didn’t you?”

A soft laugh sounds from your chest, “Of course not, already had my caffeine fix this morning.”

The rumble of an engine greets you in your ear along with a hum of amusement. Nick invited you to his mom’s for the long weekend, Maddie having a football match on Saturday. You’re honored to be invited and, for once, take him up on it. Usually you let Nick have his time with her, uninterrupted, but apparently Maddie also asked after you, which is really sweet.

“I’m really excited to watch her play,” Then, “Are you going to break up with me if I accidentally call it soccer?” Your American accent really hugs around that word.

You can picture Nick wrinkling his nose, “Please don’t embarrass me in front of a bunch of eleven year olds.”

Your giggle dies right in your throat as you turn the corner for your car…and see Ronnie leaning against the hood. You stop short, almost taking a step back as his eyes land on you. He stands, walking towards you quickly, your heart beginning to hammer in your throat.

“Y/N?” Nick asks, voice shifting from warm to concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“That Nicky boy?” Ronnie grins, and of course it’s not a question. He’s obviously here, on your car, in your space, for one reason. “Let’s tell him I said hi, yeah?”

Before you can even think about what to do, Ronnie is grabbing the wrist of the hand holding onto your phone, yanking it towards him.

“Let me go,” You snap. You’re not even sure what Nick is saying anymore, can hear the rushed cadence of his voice but you no longer have the speaker close enough to your ear.

His fingers tighten, using his weight to throw you off yours, pulling you until you’re almost stumbling into his chest. Probably a terrible idea, but your other hand launches your coffee at his face, spraying him with a cupful of ice, milk and espresso. You only wish it was hot.

Regardless, Ronnie sputters as he lets you go and you sprint towards your car. But you’re not fast enough—he whirls around before you can even get your keys out and pitches himself forward against your back so that you’re slammed chest first into the passenger door.

You squirm, a sharp noise leaving your lips, panic clawing up your throat as you glance around at the practically empty street. There’s no one around. You’re alone. You try not to let yourself fear the worst, that Ronnie could easily force you into the car, put his body on top of yours—that there’d be no one to stop him despite how much you’d try to.

“Shh,” He says against your ear, breath hot on your neck. You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing bile crawling up your throat as he presses his body into yours. You hate how you can feel the hard muscles of his chest, the cold metal of a fucking gun digging into your back.

You choke on a whimper, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of you being afraid when he rolls his hips, pulling your hair back over your shoulder. Even though you’re terrified.

“So beautiful,” He murmurs, “You can pass somethin’ onto Nick for me, can’t you love?” He doesn’t wait for you to acknowledge him, “Be sure to tell him that if he doesn’t show up for our fight that I’ll be back to finish what I started here.”

You swallow over a lump in your throat, a hundred thoughts spinning in your head all at once. It sounds like Ronnie’s established a date, has maybe told Lion about it, that Nick knows. But not only that, there’s a deep-seated terror rooting in your chest that as his hand slips down the front of you, toying with the button on your jeans, that he’d make good on that promise.

And then suddenly, that pressure is gone, Ronnie backs up and heads down the street like he wasn’t just threatening to—

A sharp sound leaves your throat, your body turning to lean against your car, to look around you. But Ronnie’s gone, and so is your hope that this all might blow over.

—

It takes you a long time to gather the nerve to get into your car and drive. You’re shaking so badly that you could barely get the key to slide into the ignition. By the time you make it back to your place, Nick is already there on the front porch. There’s a bloom of guilt in your chest that he turned the car around, headed back here instead of continuing to his mother’s, but you can’t blame him either. You don’t know what he overheard on the phone, the extent of it, but you can imagine it was more than enough because he’s rushing down to your car door before you even have it open. Regret pops in your chest like a balloon—you should have called him back.

A harsh breath leaves his lips when you step out, his eyes traveling all over your body, searching for injuries that he won’t be able to see. The untamed panic in his gaze alongside the muscle feathering in his jaw nearly takes your knees out. Fuck, he was scared.

Your hand comes down on his forearm and you—you must be squeezing him hard because he pauses, looks at your face, taking a step closer to you. His brown eyes suddenly soften, and you then realize it’s because you’re gasping for air. You were scared too. So scared.

“Shh,” He whispers and you nearly flinch, not stepping away from his touch but a shaky hand rests on his sternum as you try to breathe. You have to distance yourself from the feeling of Ronnie against you, his breath caressing your ear—forcibly shove it all deep inside a box, locking it.

Nick’s patient, waiting before he moves closer to you. When you don’t object, he gently touches your waist, encouraging you to step into him.

“You’re okay,” Nick assures. “I got you, just breathe, alright?” His hand smooths hair behind your ear, resting along your neck, thumb brushing back and forth over your pulse point.

“You’re okay now.”

You’re okay. You’re okay.

You suddenly pitch forward, like you don’t have the energy to hold yourself up. He catches you against his chest, wrapping his arms around your back. Tears spill down your cheeks, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, like you need to be able to ground yourself in him. He rocks you gently, side to side, his lips pressing to your temple, hand working up and down your spine in soothing circles as you sob. You breathe him in, that familiar scent of cologne and laundry detergent, the warmth of his body—these are the only things that are eventually able to drive the worst of the trembles away.

—

Utter exhaustion clings to every single one of your nerve endings as you sit in your bathtub, hot water around you, knees pulled up to your chest. You rest your chin on top of your knee, Nick beside you on the edge with a washcloth in his hand. He runs it along your upper back, on your shoulders, squeezing excess water there so it cascades down your skin. Then he repeats the process, over and over, slow and careful. You recount everything that happened, even though he knows some of it. To his credit, he only pauses once to let out a slow breath from his nose before he continues washing you.

The silence feels deafening, you're almost grateful for the trickling of water and thunder sounding in the distance. One of your hands disappears beneath the water, a murky lavender oil staining the surface a soft purple.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask after a moment, voice slightly raw, “Why didn’t you tell me that Ronnie had set a date to fight?”

He’s quiet for a moment, working that washcloth up and down your arms, “Lion told me a few days ago, I…I didn’t think it mattered. I wasn’t going to fight him. I didn’t know…” He trails off, fingers curling around the washcloth, almost in a sharp fist, before his hand disappears under the water.

He didn’t know this was going to happen to you. You draw in a deep breath into your lungs, holding it for a moment. You can sense it before it leaves his mouth, “Don’t apologize for this Nick, for him,” Your voice is slightly harsher than you intend, but you can’t help it, “I don’t blame you.”

Nick scoffs a little then, biting down on the inside of his cheek, “How can you not?”

Shaking your head, you run a hand over your face. You’re not going to have this argument with him. Nick, who’s done nothing but be a bright spot in your life—who’s been there for you, comforted you, supported you, made you laugh so hard that your stomach hurt, who’s made you feel loved in a way that no one has ever come close, who’s safe and protective and sweet…you just. You just can’t.

You’re not upset with him for this happening, you’re more worried about what’s going to happen now that Ronnie’s threatened you.

“Please just do me a favor,” You whisper, to which Nick curls some of your hair behind your ear.

A pause, “Anything.”

You turn your head a little to look at him, tracing the handsome lines of his face, “You’ve been doing the right thing, staying out of trouble, don’t let him take that from you.” He opens his mouth, “Please.” And he buckles even though you know that’s the last thing he wants to promise.

Nick nods softly, leaning forward to press a long kiss to your temple and then offers to wash your hair.

—

There’s hands on your body that you don’t recognize. Pulling up a shirt you have on, tearing at it, forcefully ripping your jeans open, breaking the zipper. Those aren’t Nick’s hands. His hands are never violent, not towards you, they’re gentle and respectful and knowing. These other hands bruise on purpose, grab, oppress—his body is so heavy on top of yours, you can barely breathe, panic seizing your windpipe.

“Here to finish what I started,” Ronnie says roughly, against the shell of your ear—

And then you jerk up in bed, heart pounding in your ears, your eyes wild as you take in your surroundings. It takes a long minute to figure yourself out, to get your heartbeat out of your throat, to breathe normally without feeling like you’re gasping for breath. You squint against the dark of the room, a storm raging outside, thunder cracking the air apart as lightning fills the room with brief, pinkish light. You lean back against the headboard, your hand on your chest, turning your head to Nick’s sleeping form beside you.

A small smile tugs the corners of your lips despite the rude awakening as you look down at him, asleep on his stomach. You’ve always made jokes about him being a heavy sleeper, that a nuclear bomb could probably go off and he wouldn’t stir. Tonight is no different. You brush your fingers through the curls in the front part of his hair, savoring the heat of his body, how he makes you feel protected.

You’re safe here.

Feeling a light sheen of sweat sticking to your skin, you carefully pull yourself from bed, making your way in the dark to your bathroom. Flipping the light on and closing the door just a little, you lean against the counter, turning the water on and giving it a few moments to warm up. You don’t want to look at your reflection, but your gaze travels up on its own accord. Definitely a little worse for wear—hair a bit disheveled, bags under your eyes like someone has smudged purple paint with their thumbs, and cheeks flushed. You’re not sure what time it is, but you can guess that you haven’t been asleep very long.

Grabbing a washcloth, you dip it underneath the water, turning your head towards the door when you hear it creak open. Nick leans against the doorframe, looking far too handsome for someone who’s just woken up, still a little dazed in how he looks at you. Against your will, a small smile finds its way onto your face again when you notice the pillow impressions on his one cheek.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Your voice is soft, almost too quiet in the space.

Nick shakes his head, taking a few steps into the bathroom. He reaches to take the washcloth from your hands, his bare chest brushing your shoulder as he draws your hair back from your neck. He slides the fabric along there, an audible sigh leaving your lips as your eyes close. His other hand rubs your back in long strides.

“Nightmare?” He asks after a moment, voice still rough with sleep.

You swallow, nodding, sometimes wishing he didn’t know you so well. You know there’s nothing to be ashamed of, and yet, it sticks like molasses in your throat—the words you want to say. He must sense that struggle because he clears his throat, gliding the washcloth along the back of your shoulders,

“I used to have them all the time when my mum left.”

You turn your head a little to look at him, eyes brushing over his form, the way his eyelashes rest on his cheeks, the fullness of his lips, the way he’s prying himself open so you’re not the only one feeling vulnerable. It makes you fall a little more in love with him, as if it’s possible.

“They were the worst because I used to…dream that these terrible things had happened to her and…”

He trails off but you get it. You reach your hand out, tracing the line tattoos that you can reach on his skin. The birds on his ribs, the Roman numerals under his shoulder blade, the knot on his inner arm.

“And then you woke up and she was really gone,” You whisper, “You couldn’t check on her.”

Nick’s lips tip up, just a little, because you understand. He nods, cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb over the bone there. “You don’t have to tell me what it was about,” Though you’re sure he can guess, “But I know how real they can feel.”

You swallow over a thick emotion in your throat, leaning forward to press a kiss to his jawline. When you crawl back into bed, he pulls you a little closer than before, threading his fingers through your hair until you fall asleep.

—

You spend most of the next day at Nick’s place, just…not wanting to be alone. You’re both still intending to head out to the countryside, to his mother’s place, but you want to be in a better headspace to see Maddie. And Nick’s not leaving without you. So it’s a slow morning, sleeping in and eating breakfast outside because the weather is slightly warm but not overbearing.

Nick’s gone in to grab his phone when he realizes he doesn’t have it and you eventually pick up your mug and decide that a refill is in order. Definitely a two to three cup of coffee kind of day. When you round the bend, the kitchen door is already open and voices are fluttering out onto the wind. It’s Nick and…Lion. Lion, who sounds a little exasperated as he lets out a sigh.

You pause, your eyebrows drawing together. You know you shouldn’t eavesdrop but it doesn’t take much of a jump to guess what they’re talking about.

“Look, I get what happened was awful…”

“No,” Nick interrupts, voice as hard as steel, “You don’t. She was terrified. I’ve never seen that look on her face before and I don’t…I can’t see it again.”

“So you agree then,” Lion sounds like he takes a step closer to where Nick is standing, his words firmer, “You’ll just get the fight over with, put Ronnie in his fucking place and move on.”

Your stomach plummets, the silence in the kitchen nearly deafening. You’re not sure what to make of it, can picture Nick leaning against the kitchen counter with his hands flat on the marble, contemplating Lion’s words.

But then, “No. I’m not going to fight him.”

Lion scoffs, definitely sounding pissed, “Why? Because Y/N doesn’t want you in the ring? It’s selfish of her to—”

“You better watch what comes out of your fucking mouth,” Nick interrupts, tone deadly calm, cutting like a blade.

You straighten your shoulders, swallowing over what feels like glass in your throat. The last thing you want is to cause a rift between Nick and one of his oldest friends but…you’re not about to say you want him to change his mind. You agree that something needs to be done about Ronnie and while you don’t have an alternative solution? You know that fighting in the ring won’t change anything. Right?

Lion lets out a slow breath, “I’m sorry, I’m just—”

Nick interjects again, words calmer this time, “I’m taking Y/N out to my mum’s for a few days, I’ll figure out what to do about Ronnie, okay?”

There’s a beat before Lion mumbles something, maybe words of agreement or goodbye, you’re not sure. But when the kitchen sounds like it’s just Nick moving around, you push yourself forward again, heading into the space trying to act like you didn’t have a metaphorical ear to the door.

He reaches for the mug in your hand, taking it, his fingers brushing with your own. He puts it down on the counter, filling it up with fresh coffee. His eyes flicker over to yours, a knowing smile pulling the corners of his mouth.

“Heard all that, did you?”

You can’t help but smile back, caught red-handed. You rub the back of your neck, “Not…entirely on purpose.”

He hums lightly but doesn’t reply, instead turning to get your favorite creamer out of the fridge for you. You’re quiet for a few moments, adding lumps of sugar and a splash of hazelnut creamer to your mug. The space fills with the sound of your spoon gently clinking against the walls of the ceramic.

“Did you consider it?” You ask quietly after a moment, “Just…getting the fight over with?”

You don’t mean to keep bringing it up but…you can’t tell where Nick fully stands on the idea. He seems to be teetering between the pros and cons, knowing he could probably finish a fight outright with Ronnie in a little over five minutes. You just…wish you were that confident about all of it. The negatives just completely outweigh anything positive for you. Things can often go far too wrong—you wouldn’t even trust Ronnie to handle this fight fair.

A flutter of fear kisses the ends of your ribcage when Nick laughs, though the sound is humourless.

“It’s really fucking tempting, not going to lie to you about that.” He shakes his head, a muscle feathering in his jaw, “I could strangle him for putting his hands on you.”

You want to step forward and tell him that you’re okay, that Ronnie doesn’t matter, but that would be a lie. Him accosting you like that, in broad fucking daylight, and just…you’re supposed to what? Move forward as if it hasn’t shaken you to your core? It’s not possible, and Nick’s able to read you like an open book, like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done. Usually you’re really fond of that, that he sees you, knows you. But in this case? Part of you wishes you could pretend.

You wrap your hands around the warm ceramic, “That’s not going to help anything.” You offer gently, Nick wandering over to lean his side against the counter, regarding you.

He moves his hand to brush his fingers through your hair, tucking it behind your ear. You lean into the touch, one of your hands coming up to wrap around his wrist, turning your head to kiss his pulse point. You then rest the side of your face in the palm of his hand, closing your eyes when his thumb traces your cheekbone.

“It’d be worth it.” Nick replies, voice lowered as if telling a secret. There’s a finality there that makes a shiver travel down your spine, and for a moment? You almost let that convince you that he’s right.

That it would be worth it.

—

The drive to the countryside is calm, the rumble of the engine of the red McLaren comforting underneath you. You lean your head back against the leather seating, watching the trees and pavement swirl by. Despite feeling a little tired from generally not sleeping well, you’re looking forward to being elsewhere, like you’re able to get away and remove yourself from the issue that is Ronnie. It bothers you that there’s no set plan in order to deal with him but at the same time, you know you can’t let that completely overtake your weekend. You’re looking forward to seeing Nick’s mom and Maddie, cheering her on for sports. Just like you told Nick, Ronnie doesn’t get to take those things from you.

Turning into the gravel driveway, Nick’s hand comes down to squeeze your knee as he puts the car into park.

A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth, “Thanks for still bringing me here.” I really needed it is unspoken, between your words.

Nick leans across the center divide, his hand cupping your cheek. He tugs you a little closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Not nearly enough. You breathe in a sigh of relief at his touch, still a little bit of a whirlwind that he has that sort of effect on you.

“You know you’re always welcome,” He smiles a little as he hears the front door open, Maddie spilling out and calling his name. “My mom really likes you.”

You playfully bat your eyelashes, opening the car door, “What’s not to like?”

Nick lets out a soft laugh, getting out of the car. He reaches down and scoops Maddie up into his arms when she runs over to him, giving her a spin that makes her giggle. It pulls an even bigger smile onto your face at seeing them together. And despite the swirling uneasiness that’s become home in your chest at this whole Ronnie thing, it slowly begins to fade into the background as you greet Maddie and Nick’s mom.

—

Maddie completely crushes it at her game. You’re not one hundred percent on all of soccer’s, or well, football’s rules but you have a perfectly fun time. The sun’s out, the air is a little crisp, you’re wrapped up in one of Nick’s sweaters and you ask a lot of questions when it comes to the team playing. Nick is patient and answers everything you need to know, his smile a constant, beautiful thing on his face. He really loves being around his sister—you wish you could bottle this expression and keep it for yourself on days that feel particularly brutal. And it’s not that he’s not happy back in London but…it’s like a piece of himself is visible here that’s not usually shared.

You love it. You love him—even if it’s something you haven’t been able to say outloud to him yet.

Once back at the house, you unbutton your jeans to tug them off your legs, Nick’s sweater resting long on your body. The fabric brushes over your thighs as you wander over to your suitcase, trying to find the pair of leggings you packed.

There’s a knock on your door that can only be one person, so you tell him to come in.

Nick pushes his way inside, closing the door behind him. His eyes skitter over your form, drinking you in, something warm and possessive in his gaze at seeing you in his sweater. He turns his head towards the hallway, listening for something, then he reaches for you. He pulls you close by yanking on the sweater, a soft laugh tumbling out of your mouth as you nearly tumble into him.

Your hands settle on his chest, on the soft fabric of his t-shirt, playing with the silver chain resting there. Tipping your head up, your noses brush together before he kisses you, his arms strong around your waist. One of his hands slip up and under the sweater, toying with the band of the bralette you have on, a shiver shuddering down your spine.

You don’t realize you’re walking backwards with him until your back bumps against the doorframe where the closet is, Nick squeezing his hands along your hips. He lifts you up in one fluid motion, your legs going around his waist, one hand on his shoulder, the other tangled in the curls of his hair. A soft noise rumbles in your chest and you pull back just slightly, despite not wanting to,

“Nick,” You whisper against his lips, “Your mom is literally down the hall making dinner.”

He smiles, squeezing your thigh, his hand slipping underneath and brushing the fabric of your panties, “Then I guess you better be quiet.”

Molten heat slides through your veins like honey, making a flush splotch the back of your neck and chest. You cup his cheek, pressing your thumb to his lower lip, which just makes him smile. He leans in and kisses you again, this time sliding his tongue against your own. Fuck.

“Bed,” You whisper against his mouth. “Please.”

“Since you were so polite.” He grins, carrying you over and laying you down.

He rests his body on top of your own, your legs splaying open to accommodate him. You’re pretty sure you could never get tired of kissing him, of the feel of him, unsure how you managed before you were together. Nick grinds his clothed cock into your thigh, a struggled groan reverberated in his chest before he slides down your body. You tug the sweater up, his fingers wrapping around your waistband of your underwear and tossing them to the side once they’re off.

His hands spread your legs, your breathing a little uneven as you’re exposed to the cool air. Nick plants kisses along your inner thigh, his eyes flickering up to your own as his tongue slips between the seam of your lips. Your hips jerk up, a strangled noise leaving your throat, a chuckle rumbling in Nick’s chest as he pulls back.

“Quiet,” He teases, brushing a kiss to your knee.

Your hand slips over your mouth but not before sticking your tongue out at him.

“Careful,” He muses, his hand sliding between your legs. You’re so wet for him that his finger slips into you easily, almost no build-up before he adds another. “Or I’ll make you put that tongue to good use.”

A soft groan muffles against your hand and Nick’s tongue returns to your clit, the pleasure so sweet you’re nearly tumbling over the edge. You yank on his hair, probably a little harder than you mean to, but he stops to look up at you.

“Not like that, I want you up here.”

Nick smiles a little, pulling back and undoing his jeans. You sit up, helping him get his clothes out of the way even though he doesn’t need it. You lick your lips as you get a good look at him, his cock pointing towards his stomach, head slightly red and leaking precum. Fuck, he’s so beautiful. Your hand wraps around the base and Nick lets out a low breath, his cock jerking at your touch. You lean down, pressing a kiss to his stomach before sliding him past your lips. The taste of him, the way you can feel him throb against your tongue, the moans he makes—all of it just turns you on even more, the pulse of your clit almost painful.

“Not gonna last if you keep that up.” He threads his fingers through your hair, holding it back a little.

The only reason you don’t finish him off is because you want him so much closer than he is. You lay back in bed, Nick making sure his jeans are past his knees, so he can crawl over top between your legs. He rests his body along yours, using his arms to prop himself up so he doesn’t crush you. He brushes your nose with his in a bunny kiss and you let out a soft laugh, your leg lifting so that you can slide your hand between you and guide him where he needs to go.

He rolls his hips forward, a choked noise leaving your lips as your head tips back. He rubs your hip, creating a rhythm that reaches deep inside of you, stoking a building fire. His lips find your neck, kisses along your pulse point, your hand traveling down his back and digging fingers into his skin. It doesn’t take long for your toes to curl, that escalating heat finally reaching a peak. You wrap yourself around him, cumming hard, clenching down on him. He hides his face in your neck as he loses himself in you, pleasure licking your nerve endings and making you feel slightly dizzy.

Nick leans up just a little, kissing the corner of your mouth.

You’re about to say something, though you’re not sure what words are fully formed in this orgasm-induced haze—but there’s a knock on your door.

You freeze, your eyes widening as Nick smiles, gently pressing his finger against your lips.

“Y/N?” Nick’s mother calls through the door, “Dinner’s ready—have you seen Nick?”

You poke his side, a laugh leaving him as air out of his nose. His hand leaves your mouth and you barely manage, “I haven’t! No idea where he is. Be right out!” God. Smooth.

Nick’s mother hums but she wanders down the hall and your boyfriend slowly pries himself back, leaving you feeling slightly cold and altogether too empty. Thank god for a connecting bathroom, he grabs a warm washcloth, cleaning you up before himself.

“You really have no idea where I am?” Nick asks, voice warm in amusement.

“Hush,” You laugh, pushing him away so you can sit on the edge of the bed. Your underwear are…somewhere, should probably find those and then grab those leggings to head to dinner.

Nick buttons his jeans and heads to the door, opening it up to peek into the hallway to make sure no one is there. Grabbing his sweater off the floor, you slide it over your body so that you have something on. When the ghost is clear, he leans back in and presses a kiss to the bridge of your nose.

“Maddie wants to play goalie with you later.”

You raise your eyebrows in soft surprise but your heart warms at the invitation. Maybe something after dinner before the sun goes down. “Really?”

He shrugs his one shoulder, stepping into the hallway, “Can’t be worse than hide and seek.”

Nick’s mother rounds the corner, seeing him outside your room, as if he’s appeared from wherever he’s been hiding out.

“Oh there you are,” She smiles as she passes, touching his hair. “Dinner’s ready.”

Nick hums, giving you a once over before taking another step back. “Might want to put some pants on.”

You scoff out a laugh as he winks and you playfully close the door in his face.

___

A few days in this countryside bubble has you feeling an overflow of emotions. On the one hand, you’re completely relaxed, enjoying Nick’s mom and sister and spending time getting to know them. On the other hand? Nightmarish thoughts encroach on you from their dark corners when you least expect it, causing anxiety to bloom— thinking about going back, about what’s going to happen when you do, about what (or rather who) might be waiting. You can’t hide out at Nick’s place forever, eventually you have to be home. Alone. There’s a pit in your stomach at Ronnie finding you again.

As you sit on the floor in the living room, against the couch, Nick lying on it behind you, Maddie plops down directly in your line of vision. You manage to tug your legs aside just in time so she doesn’t crush them. She pushes her long brown hair over her shoulder,

“Do my hair, Y/N!”

A soft laugh rumbles in your throat as Nick turns his head. “You wanna try that with a ‘please’, Mads?”

You want to tell him that it’s okay but she turns around and gives you a big toothy grin. “Pleaaase.”

You encourage her to sit back between your legs and as a movie plays in the background, you gather her long strands into your hands and begin to separate them. You decide on two fishtail braids, taking your time. A soft hum leaves your lips as calming actions take over and you let your mind wander as you braid. You then tug your bag that was on the coffee table closer, looking in a zipper part for…

“I got these butterfly clips in here,” You spread them throughout the braids with a soft smile, “Very pretty.” You do the sides as equally as you can, looking at your handiwork as you squeeze her shoulders.

“Alright, all done.”

She pulls back from you, grinning as she holds one of the braids over her shoulders. “Nick, look.”

He turns on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He smiles, his one hand pressed against your shoulders, his thumb lazily rubbing a circle into the muscle under your neck.

“Those look great. You better not try and put any of those clips into my hair later.” He points at her as she stands but his voice holds no threat, because he knows she will, and she giggles as she runs off to show her mom.

He leans forward and kisses the back of your head and you sense it’s a thank you for his sister’s hair, even though there’s no reason for him to offer that. You turn a little to face him and his eyes brush over your face, reading you far too easily.

He cups your cheek, curling your hair around your ear. “You alright?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek but nod, unspoken concerns heavy on your shoulders. Nick lets out a slow breath through his nose, shifting back on the couch. He pats the space in front of him,

“C’mere.”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice, you pull yourself up off the floor, crawling onto the cushions in front of him. You’re tucked so easily into his body, his arm wrapping around your back and waist. Your face fits against his shoulder, breathing him in, eyes fluttering closed. He threads a few fingers through your hair, dipping his chin so that his nose and lips are against your temple.

One of your hands slip up the back of his shirt to feel the muscles there, fingers tracing random shapes into his warm skin. You hate to say this—you’ve been thinking about it for far too long, about Nick not fighting but…what is the other way around this? Ronnie doesn’t care about pushing buttons, about threatening people that Nick cares about to make him bend.

And while you’re scared about your boyfriend getting hurt…what’s the alternative? Hiding out here forever?

You lean back just enough to tip your chin up, looking into his pretty brown eyes, that spackling of beauty marks on his one cheekbone, the softness of his lips.

“If you…” You swallow. “If you fought Ronnie, you really think you could put him in his place?”

His eyebrows draw together, not quite at your question, but because you’re asking him about something you’ve been so against. And you still are, you’re just not sure what else can be done. Especially since there’s that unspoken rule about not going to the police.

“Do you mean if I think I could beat him?” He asks before nodding, “Yeah, I think I could.” And there’s no layer of cockiness there, just an honest response. “I’m a little faster than him and Ronnie fights angry—he lets himself get worked up and his punches are sloppy because of it.”

You swallow, playing with his silver chain between your fingers as you nod.

“Look at me,” He gently tips your chin up, “I know your stance on this—we can find another way.”

You let out an exasperated breath. You want to believe that, you really do, but, “Like what? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I want a better solution but…what if Lion is right?”

Nick lets out a slow breath through his nose, his hand resting along your jaw as he considers what you’ve said. You swallow, closing your eyes again for a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose with your thumb and forefinger.

“I’m sorry, I’m — I’m going against everything I’ve said, I just…” Nick gently pulls your hand away from your face, kissing your forehead, encouraging you to release those thoughts that are trapped behind your tongue.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, I don’t want you to jeopardize anything you have with Maddie, but he—“ You let out a slow breath. “What he said to me, what he did…”

Nick’s jaw clenches, nostrils flaring as he squeezes your fingers. He lifts your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. There’s a solemn look to his face, like this is nothing he hasn’t done before and that, if he has to, he’ll do it again.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He replies, his voice surprisingly soft given the heated resolve in his eyes. “Okay?”

You nod softly again, your forehead pressing against his before closing your eyes.

—

You know there was a promise for Nick to stay out of trouble, to not allow Ronnie to take any progress that’s been worked for. Yet, as you stand in the locker room of Lion’s gym, you wonder if this is somehow the right thing and you just…hadn’t realized it at the time. Ronnie only seems to speak one language and it’s this, through his fists, through violence. Nick used to be like that when you first met him—it’s taken him a long time to learn that his hands can be used for something other than throwing a punch.

You love the way his fingers cup your cheek or rest on your lower back, how his hands lift Maddie into the air to spin her until she giggles, how he cooks and bakes with such precise movements it appears innate, thumb pressing against your lower lip, fingers curled inside you—Nick’s hands are made for much more than this.

Straddling one of the benches in front of your boyfriend, you reach for one of those hands, helping him tape it up. Leaning down, you press a long kiss to his knuckles. His thumb moves, brushing your jaw,

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

Your eyes meet his and you swallow, shaking your head, “I don’t want you to do this if you don’t want to.”

“That’s not what I meant,” He replies gently, “When Ronnie came after you, he made this personal. I don’t care much about him making threats towards me, but…” He shakes his head, unable to finish his sentence.

But you understand those unspoken words, you feel the weight of that consequence pushing into your ribs. He’ll fight Ronnie with no problems, no regret, but he’ll also bend whatever direction you wish.

And that commitment to you nearly takes your breath away.

You squeeze his hand before letting go, grabbing his other one to begin taping again. “As long as you’re okay with this, then so am I.” The words taste slightly sour in your mouth, your stomach churning, but…there’s a small bloom of hope at the bottom of your ribs that all of this might be fixed by the end of the night.

Nick inches closer on the bench, his skin smells like lingering cologne and something purely him. It makes your eyes flutter closed, breathing him in, that comfort that a person you trust brings, in which there are no words to describe it. He presses a long kiss to your forehead, brushing your hair over your shoulder with the hand you’re not holding.

“If I told you to wait in the car, would you listen?” He asks, voice murmured against your skin.

“No,” You smile lightly, “You’re stuck with me.”

A ghost of a smile brushes over Nick’s lips, his thumb running along your lower one. “I guess I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

—

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you stand on the outskirts of the ring with Jenna, Nick warming up in the center. You can’t even appreciate the long lines of Nick’s body, the way his muscles move with each punch, because you’re so nauseous. When Ronnie steps through the crowd, you really think you’re about to be sick. You swallow down bile gathering in your throat, straightening your shoulders, attempting to look unconcerned when he finds your gaze—winking with a wave.

“Be right with you after I’m finished, love.”

You bite down hard on your back molars. Nick notices right away, taking a violent step forward and pushing Ronnie in the shoulder to throw him off balance. Both Lion and a few other guys have to step in-between.

“Not until the bell rings,” Lion is saying over the chaos.

Nick points at Ronnie, visibly shaking because he’s so pissed, “You got something to say, you say it to me. Don’t even fucking look at her.”

But Ronnie knows exactly what pressure point he’s pressed, grinning at him. “Oh c’mon Nicky boy, she’s a nice winning prize.”

“Nick, don’t.” Lion warns at the same time you reach out and grab onto Nick’s wrist.

He’s an exposed live-wire, so he doesn’t realize it’s you until he whirls around, almost reacting before he thinks. You squeeze, forcing him to look at you. You remember what he said about Ronnie fighting angry, Nick can’t be allowed to fall into the same trap. Not because of you.

“Stop,” You soothe, running your thumb along his pulse point underneath his thumb, “I’m fine. He’s just using me to upset you, don’t let him.”

You step closer to cup his cheek, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and just like that he noticeably eases. He lets out a long breath through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment as you squeeze his wrist again.

“Okay?” You ask softly before he gives you a sharp nod.

Lion’s hand comes down on Nick’s shoulder, gently encouraging him towards one side of the ring as Ronnie sets up in another. He’s got that manic grin showing his teeth, and as you back up to stand with Jenna, her arm coming around you in a comforting gesture…

You can’t wait for Nick to strike that look right off his face.

—

When the fight starts, you force yourself to keep your eyes open, even when Ronnie throws a punch to the stomach, even when Nick’s blood speckles on the floor from being hit in the face. A sharp noise leaves your lips, your hand covering your mouth, Jenna’s arm slipping around your back to keep you close as the two bodies move in front of you. You’re not trying to keep track of a winner, you don't think you can stomach it anyways, but you’re aware that it’s only over when someone doesn’t get up.

When Ronnie delivers a punch that snaps Nick’s head back, you let out a sharp noise and turn a little bit into Jenna. “Fuck, this is…this is all my fault.”

Jenna shakes her head. “Don’t think that. It’s not.” She squeezes around your shoulder. “Nick was always going to end up here. Regardless of how you felt about it, I think you know that.”

You swallow a knot in your throat, watching Nick land on the ground but he’s quick to get back up. He bounces backwards on the balls of his feet, avoiding a swinging punch.

Despite not wanting to hear it, you know Jenna’s right. Ronnie was never going to leave it alone, leave you alone. If anything, Nick’s wildly protective over the people he cares about. Even though it upsets you to think about it, maybe the only outcome was Nick in the ring. You close your eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

Jenna rubs a calming circle against your arm, Nick getting a hard hit across Ronnie’s jaw. He spits at him over the noise, “This fight is pathetic.”

Ronnie laughs, his teeth red from blood. “And yet here you are.”

Nick takes a step forward, looking like he’s going to throw left but he cuts right. It’s a sharp move and it throws Ronnie off balance, making him stumble.

“You think that means anything?” Nick asks, “You had to assault my girlfriend to get me here. Threatening people to get your way?” He smiles, something calm and easy—but you know Nick, that glint to his eyes, like he’s a snake coiled up lying in wait.

“That makes you a fucking loser no matter how this turns out.”

You can tell the exact moment that his comment lands, like a blow itself. Ronnie rears back a bit, his eyes a little wild, and he grits his teeth before he throws himself forward with messy abandon. Nick was right, Ronnie is sloppy when he’s pissed off. He’s throwing punches just to see if anything hits, he’s not being calculated or worried about wasting energy. It takes twice as much to swing and miss than to make contact, and right now Nick is capitalizing on that, avoiding every poorly aimed punch.

And then Nick flips to the offensive.

There’s no downtime, he’s just a flash of movement, well-practiced balance and measured blows. There’s no moment in which he allows Ronnie to recover, to rethink strategy—he gets him on his knees and then hits with his elbow. Ronnie goes down like a bag of bricks, Nick leaning over him, breathing a little heavily before spitting blood onto the pavement near his head.

“Don’t get up.” Nick warns, but he waits, just in case.

Ronnie rolls over, a tooth coming out of his mouth when he coughs, and your heart begins hammering in your ears as you stare at him. Wondering what he’s going to do.

When Ronnie doesn’t move, the bell rings, and you let out a harsh breath as you realize it’s over. It’s fucking over.

As Nick turns, looking for you in the crowd, Ronnie grunts and—there’s a flash of silver in the light, something sharp tucked away in his boot—

Dread explodes in your chest, the sound of everyone around you becoming a dull roar in your ears, your heartbeat in your throat, “Nick,” You sound like a pinched scream, a warning.

Ronnie thrusts his arm forward, but Nick jolts to the side at your panicked voice, avoiding—yes, that’s a knife. Before he has time to try again, Nick wails his arm back and punches him. This time he hits Ronnie straight in the nose—bone crunching and blood spurting like a fountain, the momentum of his strike knocking him out cold. He tumbles to the ground, the knife skidding across the concrete.

Your heart is beating so hard in your chest that you feel lightheaded, your hand covering your mouth because—because—

Nothing can keep you firmly planted where you are, rushing through the small crowding of people to where Nick is. As he turns, you throw yourself against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. You can feel him wince against the sudden onslaught, but he doesn’t protest, doesn’t try to push you away. He dips his chin a little, his face against your shoulder.

“It’s okay,” He murmurs, threading his fingers through your hair, his arm wrapping around your waist and squeezing despite the fact that it probably hurts him. “I’m okay.”

You screw your eyes closed against the onslaught of tears, your breathing uneven. There’s a distant realization that blood is probably getting all over your clothes, but you can’t find it within yourself to care.

—

You feel like your lower lip is sore from how often you’ve been biting it, leaning against the kitchen counter in Nick’s home, watching as Lion helps wrap Nick’s ribs. All things considered, Nick’s alright, you should focus on that. And yet, you can’t stop yourself from running over the black and blue splotches and the cuts and—and what could have happened. Ronnie with a fucking blade. Your fingers shake as you rub one of your red and slightly swollen eyes. At least the crying has stopped. Barely.

You draw in a sharp breath, shifting uneasily, “Can I help with anything?” There’s a silent plea in your voice that has Nick’s gaze meeting your own. He glances down at Lion, shifts on the stool, and then reaches his hand out towards you.

Walking towards him on wobbly knees, your fingers easily lace with his. He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Why don’t you go put on one of my shirts?” He says gently and you know he’s referring to the blood on your clothes that you haven’t been able to look at, “I’ll be right up.”

You let out a slow breath through your nose and nod, turning to head upstairs. You check your phone on the way to Nick’s room, knowing that Zach’s been putting messages in the group thread about Ronnie. He’s been arrested again—getting into fights like that, along with carrying around weapons, are violations of his parole. Go figure. You close your eyes, squeezing your phone, trying to calm your hammering heartbeat.

Thank god for small favors.

Pushing your way into Nick’s bedroom, you undo your jeans and toss them towards the wash and grab a soft, black, cotton t-shirt to tug over your head once your own shirt is off. You try not to have your gaze linger on the splotches of crimson on the baby blue fabric, the scent of Nick’s laundry detergent calming your nerves as you press your nose into the sleeve.

Heading into the bathroom, an automatic light flicks on, casting a soft glow on the marble. You tug open one of the mirrors and pull out a small first-aid kit. You know that Lion’s probably taken care of most of Nick’s injuries downstairs, but there’s this overwhelming urge to help, to do something. Distantly, you know there was no way around all of this, and you’re not…upset, exactly, with how things turned out. But…

“You okay?” Nick asks, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

“I feel like I should be asking you that.”

His left shoulder lifts in a shrug, “Not in here feeling guilty, are you?” He’s leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom, the lights creating a warm glimmer on his skin and the blonde curls in his hair.

“No,” You reply but god, that sounds like so much of a lie that Nick smiles a little, stepping fully into the space.

He leans his back against the bathroom counter where you’re standing and you can’t stop yourself from closing the distance, resting your chin on his shoulder, breathing him in. He tilts his head down, brushing a kiss along your forehead before planting a real one to the bridge of your nose.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” You whisper, your fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt that you’re wearing, “This isn’t going to ruin anything with your sister, is it?”

He shakes his head, “My mum is taking a small vacation and obviously Maddie is going with, I have some time to heal before I see her again.” He pulls back just a little to cup your cheek, “But even if that weren’t the case, I don’t have any regrets. I think if I had to explain what and why, my mum might understand.” There’s a twitch to his lips, “She’d still be pissed but.”

You groan softly—regardless, you hope he doesn’t have to. “We do not need to give your mom a reason to hate me.”

Nick’s arm wraps around your waist and he tips your chin up with the hand that’s still on your cheek so that you fully look at him, “My mum loves you,” You swallow over a lump in your throat, your breath stilling as the next words spill from his lips. “And so do I.”

It’s one of those things that’s been implied for so long that it feels…unbelievable to hear it said outloud. You try your best to ignore the tears filling your eyes and the tingling at the bridge of your nose as you smile at him.

“Really?” You can’t help but whisper.

He smirks, running his thumb along your cheek. “Well I practically won a knife fight in the ring for you so, I’d say it’s pretty obvious.”

You lean against his chest, careful of his ribs as your lips move against his when you speak, “Say it again.”

He goes to tease— “I won a knife fight in the—”

“Nick.”

Nick licks his lips, smiling earnestly now. He nips at your lower one, “I love you.”

Your hand rests along the side of his neck as you kiss him, whispering I love you, too, along his mouth, shuddering as his tongue slides against your own. His body suddenly moves, encouraging you towards his bedroom.

You suppose out of any outcome that could have come from all of this? This is a pretty good one.

#nick leister #nick leister x reader #my fault london #my fault: london #matthew broome #matthew broome x reader #my fault series #my fault london x reader #mccall writes things

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strawberryg-cake · 11 hours ago

Text

The science between the two of us | Albedo x reader.

✦ Category: Smut as fuck, kinky, established relationship.

✦ Warning: +18, and a bit of bdsm, if you are a minor or don't like that type of content, please skip this one.

Yes, yes, yeeees! Strawberry is happy because she got to finish this one which she has been working on for a while now! (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠). Trust me, it's freaking worth it, I even took the time to investigate a little bc of Albedo's personality and to make sure it doesn't feel OOC.

I hope you like this one (I do cofcof).

Enjoy! ✦

✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭POV:

"Albedo is a man of science... and due to his natural curiosity, this also reflects in intimacy. So, what kind of kinks does your well—and not so well—composed boyfriend have with you?"

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

❀ First things first… Albedo is definitely a soft dom. He’s the type of guy who takes control of the situation in such a calm, composed way that you don’t even realize he’s the one in charge—until you’re already pinned beneath him.

❀ Albedo likes to take his time with everything he does. It’s just a side effect of being a scientist, especially in the field of alchemy… But you’re not his experiment, right? You’re his girlfriend—which just makes things even worse. He wants to explore, observe your reactions, study you. He’ll explore your body like it’s the most divine creation of Celestia.

❀ “Don’t worry, we have plenty of time.” “No need to rush, let me explore you.” And yes, when he says explore you, he means he will pay attention to every reaction you have. Which brings us to the next subject...

❀ His hands. Oh, Archons. He touches you like you’re made of crystal, of the most delicate element he needs to keep stable… until he doesn’t. Because his hands are so beautiful—pale, with long fingers and slightly pink knuckles. He knows you love them, and he teases you with that infuriating calm:“Would you like me to take my gloves off?” And if you nod? A faint smile appears on his lips. Our prince knows you like his hands. And he likes that you like them.

❀ “Fascinating...” he murmurs while you’re on his lap, one of those pretty fingers tracing from the inside of your thigh outward. He notices how your body immediately tenses—of course he does. “W-What?” you ask, breath catching. His hands cup your thighs gently. “Your reactions… the way your body responds when I touch you. It’s quite… endearing.” Congratulations. You’ve officially become a tomato.

❀ Remember the soft dom? Good. Here he comes. He has memorized each position you like, and what reaction each one draws from you. Not because he wants to control you—but because he wants to make you feel good. He knows you like it when he raises one of your legs and leans in just enough for you to feel him deeper. “There it is…” he murmurs, drawing your attention to his voice instead of the overwhelming sensation. His breath is heavier now, cheeks and ears tinged with pink. “That reaction…” he leans in deeper, making you moan. “It’s devastating.”

❀ Albedo isn’t noisy. That’s just not how this composed man is. But you’ll hear him breathing heavily—soft groans when it feels too good. His voice drops, grows huskier when he’s deep in the moment.

❀ Soft dom again. He enjoys pinning your hands, just to see how you react. Albedo would never admit it out loud, but he loves seeing your eyes widen when he takes your wrists or pins them behind your back with one hand. One day, during a kiss, he’ll conduct one of his unexpected experiments: You’re not allowed to touch him. You try. “I didn’t touch you,” you murmur when he pulls back, his sky-blue eyes studying you. Then, as calm as ever—like he wasn’t just stealing your breath—he says, “But you wanted to.” And just like that, he grabs your wrists, pinning them behind your back. You arch slightly— A faint smile curves his lips. “Let’s continue, shall we?” Then his other hand cups your cheek, and his soft lips find yours again.

❀ Yes, he’s obsessed with your reactions. Because he likes you so much… No, he loves you. So much that he wants to do everything in his power to make sure you’re comfortable—and enjoying sex as much as he is with you.

❀ He’s a perfectionist. One day, while you’re on all fours, he’ll stop. Before you can ask, his hand travels from your hips to trace your back. Then he presses down—just enough to make you arch. “Just like that… Stay still for me.” And when he moves again? A soft whine escapes your lips, and any coherent thought vanishes from your mind.

❀ He takes control so softly… especially when he speaks: “Don’t move.”, “Stay still for me, you look perfect like this.”, “Keep your eyes on me.” , “Let me hear you.” And really, how could you say no to him?

❀ Yes, he enjoys power play—but in such a tender Albedo kind of way that you barely even notice. He’ll always ask: “May I?” Before touching you or making a bold move. Questions like: “Do you trust me?”, “Do you want more?” Are frequent during intimacy. He makes it clear that if you ever want to stop, just say the word—and he will.

❀ He has aesthetic control, but he wouldn’t admit it. His methodical, observant nature means he notices which colors look best on you—especially in lingerie. He’ll absolutely go shopping with you. And when you’re alone, dressed in the lingerie he chose? He’ll make you stand still while he walks around you, observing. “You look incredibly beautiful like this,” he says, his voice soft. Then one finger slips beneath the strap on your shoulder— Snap. Teasing, playful, light. But when you catch the intensity of his gaze...? Oh, he’s definitely enjoying this more than he admits.

❀ He may even buy accessories to match. “Just a moment, please,” he says one evening, pulling out a ribbon in the same color as your lingerie. He ties it into your hair carefully, then smiles at your reflection. “Tonight, you are my favorite creation of all.”

❀ Girl, of course he has a praise kink. He’ll praise you until you’re so flustered you can’t even look him in the eye.

❀ Look at him while he’s fucking you. Because if you don’t—he’ll make you.

❀ Most of his favorite positions allow him to focus on your reactions.

❀ Albedo likes sensory play. He’s a scientist, after all. Expect blindfolds, ice, or warm water trailing over your skin… followed by his breathless voice, slightly rough and drunk with arousal: “Does it feel good?”, "Do you want me to do it again?”

❀ He kisses you everywhere—soft lips trailing along your jawline, collarbone, shoulders, inner thighs. Absolutely devastating.

❀ Bondage? Oh yes. But not harsh. Never harsh. When you two try it, he uses silk ribbons, soft ropes, delicate lace. You’ll look so fragile, so delicate that you wonder how it’s meant to restrain you. Then you try to move— And he smiles. A little, quiet smile, like he’s unwrapping the most precious gift. And that night? He’ll untie every knot slowly, gently, and leave kisses behind each one.

❀ He ties you—but with every knot, he kisses the skin beneath.

❀ Albedo lets you ride him, not all the time but he does—and subtly takes control. Hands on your thighs, guiding you, watching every reaction. Trying not to lose himself because you look too good.

❀ And here comes the boom. Ask him to go harder— That soft, whiny voice or, worse, a desperate plea? He stops. Not because he doesn’t want to— But because you just triggered something deep in him. His composed self cracks. “Can I ruin you?”, “Can I break you a little?” will be some of the questions crossing his mind in that moment.

❀ Spoiler, he does it harder. Deeper and he knows which angulus and positions to use to make you scream his name.

﹒ ︵︵ .︵ . ︵﹒︵୨ ꒰ㅤ꒱ ୧︵ . ︵﹒︵ . ︵︵ ﹒

There you were—just in your underwear—being observed like prey before being devoured. The lingerie, a subtle shade of peach, made you look almost ethereal. You were completely aware of yourself, hyperconscious of every movement, every breath. Albedo watched you with that signature calm of his, his eyes tracing every inch of your figure with the same precision he reserved for his experiments. He circled you slowly, gaze analytical yet reverent, until you couldn’t bear the silence anymore.

“Is everything okay…?” you asked shyly, eyes lowered to your feet, your heart pounding so loudly it echoed in your ears.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, already knowing the answer. You nodded.

Then, gently, he lifted your chin with two fingers, guiding your gaze to meet his own—those sky-blue eyes now slightly darker, clouded with something deeper.

“I feel too aware of myself…” you whispered, caught in his gaze.

You felt it next—his fingers slipping beneath the strap of your bra, caressing your skin like you were the rarest gem he’d ever handled. And then—snap.

A soft, deliberate flick. The sound made you inhale sharply, heat flooding your cheeks. His lips brushed the corner of your mouth—a quiet invitation. An unspoken promise that if you let go, he’d take care of everything.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Albedo murmured against your lips, his fingers ghosting over the small ribbon resting at your collarbone.

Another kiss, and you found yourself sitting at the edge of the bed. Another touch, and he was already above you, one knee pressing into the mattress. His fingers curled around the silk of your lingerie, tugging slowly—painfully slowly—like he was unwrapping the most precious gift.

And then, in that velvety voice dipped in dark desire, he spoke against your lips:

“Shall we begin?”

There was no need for an answer.

Because the moment his hands settled on your hips, the moment he resumed undressing you—terribly slow, his warm lips pressing reverent kisses onto every newly revealed part of your skin—you already knew.

You were at his mercy.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #albedo #genshin headcanons #genshin oneshots #albedo fluff #albedo x reader #albedo x y/n #albedo x you #albedo smut

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lovemybluebully · 18 hours ago

Text

Morning Kisses

Art by @fluffyficsanddreams ! I hope you don't mind me reposting this. 🥰 Please visit the link to their original art piece and give some love! 💗💛

https://www.tumblr.com/fluffyficsanddreams/783309757439164416/yay-i-made-art-wade-and-his-tickly-kisses-oh?source=share

I could not resist writing a little something for this fucking adorable drawing. As soon as I saw it it had my brain going haywire! lol I tried to get it written sooner, but I had a very long week and very little time to write. Hope you all enjoy these two being cute AF! More Poolverine!

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

ler!Wade/Deadpool x lee!Logan/Wolverine

Word Count: 2,173

"🎵 BYE BYE BYE DON'T WANNA BE A FOOL FOR YOU! JUST ANOTHER PLAYER IN YOUR GAME FOR TWO 🎵"

Logan snarled as the alarm clock went off loudly right by his sensitive ear, prompting him to extend his claws on one fist and quickly slash it into nothing but a cracking pile of plastic and circuitry.

"You know, that was the third clock this week, baby doll."

Logan looked over his shoulder to squint sleepily at Wade lying beside him in the bed before retracting his claws and rolling over onto his back.

"I don't give a fuck. There's gotta be a better way to wake up that doesn't instantly piss me off," he growled as Wade sat up slightly, leaning his head into his hand.

"It is effective though. I may be hallucinating but it looks to me like you're pretty awake."

"Not for long. Why do you keep setting the damn thing anyways?"

"Because we can't just lay in bed all day. That would make for a veeeery boring fic for our readers," Wade winked out at the audience while Logan just snorted grumpily.

"Well they can all go fuck off 'cause that's exactly what I plan to do. Ya with me, or against me?"

Wade considered it for a moment before he crawled over, laying his head onto his chest and nuzzling his face between the large muscles, half-annoyed that Logan's tank top was blocking him from getting skin to skin contact.

"How about both? I definitely won't pass over the opportunity to be against you," he teased as Logan sighed, but settled his hands on Wade's back.

"Whatever it takes to get ya to shut up," Logan grumbled as he closed his eyes, silently timing in his head how long the peace would actually last.

All of five seconds to be exact.

"Okay seriously, we have to get some action going on here," Wade quickly broke the silence as Logan internally rolled his eyes.

"Well, I should be snoring soon. That enough action for all those so-called 'readers'?

"Pfffft no, boring! We need to spice this up a little! Some deep conversation...Maybe some heavy petting....I got it! We can make-out! Now kiss me, you adamantium fool!" Wade puckered his lips and leaned upwards, but Logan just turned his head away.

"Fuck off, ya damn fruit loop."

Wade pouted at being denied while he laid there for another moment, feeling Logan's hard pecs slowly rise and fall with his breathing underneath him.

"Oh my, are these tatas all for me? You know I wanted to do this ever since the first time I saw your shirt explode," Wade grinned as his hands moved to Logan's chest and firmly squeezed at the muscles, "Honk honk!"

"Either ya lay fucking still or I'm throwin' your ass out of this bed," Logan gave a snarl, prompting Wade to gasp and immediately wrap his arms tightly around Logan to hold on for dear life.

"Good choice. Now ease up a bit. I can't move my arms," Logan muttered, straining against Wade's embrace a little, though not making much effort to get out of it.

"Can't escape me, hm? Sounds like I've got you right where I want you."

"Why would I need to escape? This bed is right where I wanna be," Logan wasn't even sure why he played into Wade's game, but he didn't think about it too much as he began to doze off again.

Wade hadn't expected Logan to entertain his nonsense and realized he didn't have any actual plans. With his arms wrapped around Logan's body he was limited on what he could do and only could really move his head around, though Logan had sadly declined the make-out session.

He lifted his head to look towards Logan's face to see that he had his head leaned back into his pillow with his eyes closed and was paying Wade no mind. It was only then that Wade's eyes scanned over Logan's thick, tree trunk of a neck that was enticingly bared to him and suddenly he was overwhelmed with inspiration.

"Challenge accepted. I'll show you why they really call me the 'Merc with the Mouth'....," Wade smirked as he leaned forward and began planting soft kisses onto Logan's exposed neck, immediately feeling the muscles beneath his lips tense up. Logan groaned as a faint snort escaped him while starting to be pulled out of his drowsy state.

"Hmmph-hehehe-dammit. Wade....Nooo," he protested even though his eyes remained shut as he began to twitch his head about, finding no relief from the gentle assault.

"Excuse me? No??? You denied me my God-given right to make-out with my sexy boyfriend. Therefore, I'm taking what's rightfully mine," Wade sped up the pace, peppering the light kisses all over Logan's throat as the man quickly dissolved into crazed giggling.

"Stahaahahap! That-That tihihihickl-," Logan was cut off by the wheeze that came out of him once Wade paused to nibble at the skin.

"It what? Sorry, I didn't understand that," Wade grinned, knowing damn well what he was doing as he went back to his chaotic kissing pattern, "MmmmOhhhh Logan...not right now.....Just can't get enough of me, can you? Mmmwaahmwaahmwaah! Can't say I blame you."

"Hehehehahahahaha-You're a jahahahackass!" His chin tucked in as he flopped his head around, doing what little he could for defense. Wade's arms were wrapped all the way around him, pinning his arms at his sides and making it so he could only writhe and squirm beneath him.

Wade knew Logan never put up too much of a fight after waking up in the mornings, still being half-asleep with his thought process and reflexes sluggish. This always made it the perfect opportunity to get the best of him.

It helped that Logan didn't actually hate it either despite how loudly he would always object. He was weak to all the affection that Wade showered him with, half-expecting that he was going to wake up from this dream at any time and find himself back in his former reality where he was hated and shunned by all.

Being constantly subjected to such affection, in whatever form Wade chose, was not something he was going to take for granted. Still, he couldn't help wishing that Wade had picked anything but tickling as his favorite way to show it. The man undeniably loved to make him laugh though.

"Gehehehe-Get ohohhohoff me!" Logan yelped through his giggles, weakly smacking at Wade's back with his hands with that being all he could really do that didn't involve him getting violent.

"MmmMm," Wade shook his head, nuzzling his nose deep into the ticklish neck and inhaling the man's scent, "Goddamn, you smell so fucking good. It's like crack for me. I'm afraid if you want me to stop then you're just going to have to stab me."

Logan had stopped stabbing Wade a long time ago after finding all of his gestures usually had good intentions behind them. Not to mention being around him so much had made Logan lighten up considerably and stop taking everything so seriously. He didn't exactly feel like cleaning up the blood later either.

"C'mohohohon! Thihis is sohoho unfahaahaahaair!" A small squeal escaped him as Wade blew a light raspberry beneath his ear.

"Oh I can show you unfair if you really want. I could raspberry the fuck out of your tummy instead...."

"Noo!" Logan frantically shook his head at the threat of Wade assaulting his most ticklish spot and dug his heels into the mattress as he tried to bear it all. Usually, he would just take it and allow Wade to get his fill of playfully tormenting him, but this soft attention always flustered him and made him unable to think clearly.

He literally felt like he was going to explode if it didn't all stop soon. Over time he had learned that it was best to just give in to whatever Wade was after in order to get him to cease fire.

"Okaahahahahay you wihihihin! I'm ahahahaha-awake!" His legs kicked uselessly under the sheets, not able to take any more of this.

"Are you sure? It's hard to tell 'cause apparently, I was wrong the last time," Wade murmured as he nipped along his collarbone, taking Logan's breath away as he nodded his head like crazy through his mirth.

His body immediately melted in relief from the overwhelming stimulation once Wade had stopped. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths as he tried to get his mind to settle down along with his screaming nerves.

Wade just watched with a pleased grin and waited for him to snap out of his heightened daze as he pulled his arms out from behind Logan's back.

"So how was that for a better way to wake up? Nothing like starting your morning with a smile on your face, wouldn't you say?"

Logan opened his eyes to give Wade a feigned look of annoyance that the merc could easily see right through.

"Can't say I approve of the method. That's straight-up torture, both physical and mental."

"Oh please! It's perfect! And you're not pissed off so looks like a win to me."

"Who says I'm not pissed off?" A smirk spread across Logan's face as Wade narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"Are you? Because if that's the case then perhaps some more effort is needed...."

With that his hands launched upwards and buried themselves into Logan's armpits, making him scream and his arms instantly slam down as he bucked hard from the sensations.

"Ohohahahahaha! NoNo stop! Stohahahahop! Pleehehehehease! Haahahahahaahah! Ihihit was a johohohoke! I'm nohohohot mahahaad!" Logan managed to wheeze out through his hysterical laughing, thrashing in complete helplessness.

"Sounds exactly like something someone who is mad would say. I don't believe you. Mercy is denied!" Wade teased, his fingers wriggling at full speed underneath Logan's arms. It always made him happy when Logan gave him an opening to really unleash a tickling attack on him.

"I-I cahahahan prohoohoohooove it!" Logan shouted as Wade tilted his head, amused to hear what Logan might say.

"Oh really? Care to tell me how you are going to do that because I'd love to see you try to get out of thi- "

A split second later and Wade found Logan's hands on the back of his head as he yanked him forward, their lips meeting as Logan held him in place and kissed him deeply. Wade was shocked into halting the tickling as his hands went limp before reciprocating the kiss; his mind always going quiet whenever Logan treated him like this.

After a few more moments they broke off with Wade sighing in contentment at getting what he had originally wanted as he smiled down at the man beneath him.

"I fuckin' hate you," Logan grinned as Wade nuzzled their noses together and planted another kiss onto his forehead. He then couldn't help giggling a little when Wade's hands dragged down his sides to get out of his armpits before letting out a sigh.

"Alright, I guess we can get up now," he started to push back on Wade, but the merc only made himself dead weight to oppose him.

"You know what? I think I've changed my mind. That was the perfect amount of action for a short fan fiction like this."

"I still don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about when ya say shit like that, bub. But if ya say so, I'm not gonna argue it," Logan shook his head and happily laid back.

"Glad you agree. So we can get right back to it then....," Wade grinned as he wrapped his arms around Logan again, making the other man's eyes widen in fear for his neck.

"No no, Wade wait. You can't do that again. It'll drive me cra- Unngghh," Logan's slight panic turned into lust, his body stiffening as Wade sensually licked up the length of his neck, "Did I say no? Just ignore that."

"Hold that thought...," Wade released him as he got out of the bed and ran over to the 4th wall, looking out at the audience, "Okay, show's over, my dear readers. This is naughty time now so shoo! Make like the wind! Be gone! Amscray!"

"Wade, stop bein' a fucking weirdo and get back over here," Logan called from behind him, shaking his head as he watched Wade wave his arms and mumble in the corner of the room.

"Coming, muffin!" Wade looked around as he grabbed a jacket off of the floor and whispered, "Cover your ears now."

He flung the jacket over the camera, turning the view into darkness while his footsteps can be heard running away.

"Ya know you actin' like a schizophrenic fuck isn't very arousing."

"You knew what you were getting yourself into. Besides you know I more than make up for it in other ways...."

"Ya make it easy to forget. So how about ya get to makin' me remember?"

*INSERT CRAZY DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE SEX NOISES HERE*

#They are so cute!#I love them!#poolverine #ticklish!wolverine #ticklish!logan #ler!deadpool #ler!wade #tickle fic #deadpool tickle #wolverine tickle #fluffyficsanddreams

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