#one thing because that’s how it was presented to you?!

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter sixteen ⭐︎ Hold me, love me, touch me, honey

Warnings: 18+ minors don’t interact! smut, unprotected sex, *cough* breeding kink *cough*, slight allusions to pregnancy? but not really. not proofread... ignore any mistakes please

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve's newfound feelings awaken something else in him when you reveal a little secret to him.

Word count: 7.9k+

Author’s note: I'm sorry for taking so long with this chapter, I hope it was worth the wait though and that you guys will enjoy it! shoutout to @hellfire--cult for helping with this as always hehe ♡

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter

♡

The aching in your head is the first thing you feel when you wake from your deep sleep, the throbbing pain making you groan in displeasure. When you open your eyes, you quickly shut them again, it’s not even that bright in the room, the curtains are closed but the little light that peeks through is still enough to hurt your sensitive eyes. You scrunch your nose and raise your hands up towards your face, hiding your eyes with your palms, you roll over on your side and sink your face into Steve’s pillow. 

You can still taste the beer in your mouth and it brings back the nausea that has been haunting you for a while. 

You raise your head and touch the spot beside you, sliding your palm back and forth, only to find Steve’s side of the bed empty. 

He is downstairs, you can hear the radio, it’s not even loud but your ears could pick up any sound right now. 

You squint open your eyes and give yourself a moment to adjust to the light, you stretch your arms out and inhale his scent that lingers all around you, embracing the fluttering in your heart. You slowly push yourself up but keep the covers over your body, looking over at the nightstand on your side of the bed, a smile appears on your face when you see the glass of water and Advil along with a little note ‘drink up, blondie – and come downstairs for coffee and breakfast’. Your dry mouth is begging for the water, you scoot over and reach for it, gladly grabbing the painkiller too, you throw it into your mouth and wash it down with the water. 

From the corner of your eye, you see the clothes you wore the night before, the skirt he slid down your body, the top and the bra he took off for you before he helped you put on his shirt. 

Pictures of last night start flashing in your mind, you remember how he held your hand and how he kissed you, how he held you and refused to let you out of his sight. He was soft with you, gentle and sweet — how you always wished him to be with you. 

Was it because of how you acted? Because of the side you always refused to show? 

The alcohol in your system revealed something you were always afraid to show, a you that you’ve always kept sacred, because you were too afraid to show your real self to people, the gentle and caring side, the loving one that craved intimacy and affection so so badly. This side of you is too vulnerable and you don’t like it, you don’t like to be perceived that way. You’d rather let people keep seeing you like this — rough, mean and cold. They won’t know if you’re hurt, they won’t see through your act, they won’t see you, and you want to keep it that way. 

Embarrassment fills you the longer you think of how you were around him, how giddy and happy you were, how love guided you to kiss him and treat him as though he was your boyfriend when he wasn’t, when he isn’t, when he will never be. 

How will you face him after last night? 

What does he think of you now? 

Will he treat you differently now? 

Can you just pretend like you don’t remember a single thing and you can both go back to normal?

You throw the covers off your body and get up from the bed, making a trip to the bathroom to brush your teeth, wash your face and comb through your hair to make yourself look more presentable before you walk downstairs to join Steve in the kitchen. 

Your heart starts doing pitter patters the closer you get to him, feeling nervous to look into his eyes and trying to pretend like everything is normal between you both like his soft touches didn’t fill you with a sliver of hope – something that makes you feel like a fool, there is no hope, there shouldn’t be, but your stupid heart can’t understand that. 

When you walk into the kitchen and you look out the window, you realize that it��s not even that bright out, the sun is only peeking through the big clouds, drops of rain roll down the windows, and the faintest sound of thunder rumbles through the sky, overpowering the music playing from the radio. 

Goosebumps rise up on your skin, an unsettling feeling appears in your stomach but you’re not afraid, despite how uneasy you feel, you’re not afraid, because you aren’t alone, because you’re with him. 

It smells like coffee and waffles, the mixed scents making your lips curl into an excited smile. 

Steve is standing with his back to you, finishing up on the waffles that he’s already got a stacked up plate of, he is sipping on his coffee and you wonder how long he has been up for already. 

His head is slightly banging along to the music, his hair is still messy, uncombed and unstyled, he is wearing a white tank top and sweatpants, he looks so cozy – that’s how you love him the most. 

You take in a shaky breath and open your mouth to speak, to say good morning, to say something as the nervousness seeps in deeper but he beats you to it, as though he can feel your eyes on him, he turns around to face you, his hazel eyes lighten up at the sight of you, the smugness that sinks into his features makes you shrink into yourself a little, your cheeks heat up and you suddenly feel flustered. 

“Good morning, Blondie,” he smirks, eyeing you up and down as he takes you in, how you look in his shirt – he will never get tired of this sight. “How are you feeling?” 

“Morning,” you murmur as you make your way over to the coffee maker, you reach for one of the mugs in the cupboard and place it on the counter, pouring yourself some coffee, you take your time turning back to him as you try to calm your nerves and your blushing. “Good… surprisingly.”

Steve chuckles behind you, you hear his footsteps and how he opens the fridge, getting something out of it before closing it again. 

“Yeah, you were pretty drunk last night,” he clears his throat and you suddenly feel his breath on your shoulder and his hand on your waist as he places the creamer on the counter before you, “no hangover?” 

His hand lingers and he doesn’t step away just yet. 

“Thanks,” you murmur as you reach for the creamer and pour some into your coffee, “my head hurts a little but I feel fine.” 

Steve nods behind you, he squeezes your waist and fights the urge to just turn you around and steal your breath away by kissing you deeply. 

“Did you drink the water and the Advil I put on the nightstand?” 

He doesn’t remove his hand, even when you turn around to face him, he leaves it on your waist. 

You cup the mug with both hands and bring it up to your lips, taking a sip as you look up into his eyes. The burning in your cheeks is still there, the heat matching the one of the hot beverage in your hands. 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“Good,” he nods, eyeing your face slowly. 

He can tell that you’re flustered and shy even – that is a rare sight to see, it makes the fluttering in his heart so much stronger. 

You blink as you stare up at him and take another sip, squirming a little when he takes a step closer. 

Steve can’t help but chuckle to see you blushing, he brings his hand up towards your face, slipping his fingers through your hair before he tucks it behind your ear. 

“Do you want another kissy?” 

Your lips part and your eyes widen, more embarrassment rushes through you at his teasing. 

Steve chuckles again when you roll your eyes and groan. 

“Stop!” You whine, not knowing that this sound only makes him adore you even more. “I was so drunk!”

“Yeah? I couldn’t tell,” he snorts, shaking his head in amusement. 

“That was the alcohol talking,” you murmur, lying. 

“Was it?” He asks, furrowing his brows as he tilts his head to the side, adoringly so. “I don’t know, I really liked this Blondie. She was so cute and touchy.” 

Whether he’s teasing or mocking you, your heart doesn’t seem to care as it beats even faster in your chest. The thought that Steve could find you cute makes you feel giddy and it fills you with a sense of happiness only he can make you feel. 

You roll your eyes at him but he chuckles as a smile tugs at your lips. 

Steve’s hand moves from the side of your face to your shoulder and then to your waist again. 

“Don’t get me wrong, your mean side grew on me but you were so adorable last night.” 

Adorable. 

He is teasing you, you are sure that he is just teasing you, the smirk on his lips, the glowing mischief in his eyes gives him away. 

“Don’t forget your waffles,” you blurt out, not knowing what else to say to that. 

He huffs in amusement and squeezes your waist once more before he steps away from you, making his way back to the kitchen counter, he opens the waffle maker and takes out the last one, placing it on the plate before he turns his head to look at you. 

“Come on, I already set up the table.” 

You turn to look at the round kitchen table, seeing it set up just the way it was the first time he made you breakfast. 

Warmth blooms in your chest and your eyes soften. 

He held you in his arms when you fell asleep last night, he got up before you just to make you breakfast – your favorite kind too. 

Is he like that with everyone? 

Does he treat all his hookups like this? 

Does he make them breakfast too or hold them in his arms until they fall asleep?

Or are you the only one that gets all this? 

You don’t even know if he is seeing anyone, if someone else occupies your side of his bed when you don’t see each other. 

Your eyes follow him as he makes his way over to the table and places the plate full of waffles in the middle. 

The thought that someone else might get this too makes you feel uneasy, upset, and hurt. 

He looks at you with furrowed brows, looking as you stand there with a frown on your face, holding the mug against your chest as you stare at him. 

“Come here, your waffles are gonna get cold.” 

You blink, snapping out of the thoughts that leave you with a bitter taste on your tongue. 

You nod and step away from the kitchen counter, you hold the mug tightly in your hands as you make your way over to him. 

Steve pulls back the chair for you, waiting for you to take a seat. 

You try to hide the surprise and the blush on your face as you hide your face behind your hair and turn your back to him as you sit down but it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, he smiles to himself, adoring this shy side of you. 

“Eat, Blondie,” he murmurs, patting your shoulder before he walks around the table and takes the seat across from you, “we need to get some energy back in you.” 

“Yeah, I actually agree,” you chuckle, picking up a waffle for your fork, “I feel like there’s a huge hole in my stomach.”

“You need to eat more,” he says sternly. “You devoured that chicken sandwich last night.”

“Mhmm it was heavenly,” you nod and pour some syrup on your waffle, “especially after all the beers I’ve had.” 

Steve chuckles, picking up the bowl with strawberries and raspberries, he puts them on your plate, “you need some vitamins too.”

“Yes, mom.”

“Shut up,” he snorts. 

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, only the sound of the radio continues on. You eat your waffles and drink your coffees, sharing glances and sweet smiles, a few comments here and there, his foot touching your own under the table. This is nice. You could get used to this.

If only you knew that he feels the same. 

Steve watches you, how you comfortably sit here with him, enjoying the breakfast that he made for you, you’re much quieter than you were last night and he can’t help but miss the other side of you — the clingy and touchy one, the one that asked for kisses and even peppered his face in them. He wonders if you even remember any of it or the things you’ve said to him. You rambled so much, that you probably forgot about the comments you made. 

He takes a sip of his coffee and clears his throat, “do you remember what you said to me last night?” 

Despite remembering everything, you can’t help but panic slightly, wondering if there’s a small detail you can’t recall, that you might’ve said something you tried to keep secret, that you accidentally revealed your feelings, or even confessed your love for him. 

“Uh… I think I’ve said a lot,” you chuckle nervously, scratching the back of your neck as you straighten your back. 

He laughs and nods, “yeah you did, but you told me you had a surprise for me. What’s that about?”

The look on his face is a curious one, his head is tilted to the side, tapping his fingers against his mug. 

A surprise. 

Oh, you surely remember that and what you meant by ‘surprise’ and you can’t help but curse inwardly at your drunken self for thinking that it was a good idea to mention it as that. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks again and the nervousness inside of you returns once more. 

“Ah, right uh… it’s not exactly a surprise but uh…” you pause, not knowing how to start this conversation, sensing the awkwardness that is about to ruin this comforting moment already. 

He raises his brows at you, waiting for you to continue. 

You take a deep breath, breaking eye contact for a moment to look out the window. 

“Um, do you remember those three days we didn’t see each other before Vickie’s party?” You ask and look back at him. 

“Yeah.” 

“I went to the doctor one of those days…” 

His eyes widen a little, his heart skips a beat as some kind of hope swirls inside of him and a million questions start running through his mind. 

“Oh?” Is the only thing he can say as the excitement for something that probably doesn’t even exist starts building up. 

You bounce your knee and hold your mug tightly, blinking as you stare into his hazel eyes. 

“Yeah I um… I got an IUD.” 

Steve blinks a few times. 

“I’m sorry, what?” He asks in confusion, he expected something else. 

You huff, getting more and more nervous as each second passes. 

“An IUD… Birth control? Didn’t you learn that in school Lego Head?”

He nods quickly and furrows his brows again, “I know what it is, I’m just wondering why.”

The heat in your cheeks intensifies and suddenly glows so hotly, embarrassment flushes through you and as he stares at you, completely lost and confused, you feel like a deer caught in headlights. 

You had never used birth control before him, or even thought about it, you would’ve never gone without protection with anyone else, birth control or not but with Steve, it’s different. You want him. You want to feel him. You want him closer and more intimately. That one time wasn’t enough, how could it ever be? 

But while you kept thinking about this, wishing for a repeat, he clearly didn’t want the same. 

“J-Just in case,” you mumble with a shaky voice, not realizing just how nervous and small your voice sounds. 

The gears in his head start turning, though very slowly and he is still staring with parted lips and widened eyes. 

He knows what you mean by that, he knows what you want and he wants it too, he’s been wanting it so badly, he’s been thinking about it day and night, when you’re with him or not — he wants you, he wants to feel you again and again. 

He just can’t believe you fucking said that.

You blink and look down, clearing your throat as you close your eyes, feeling regret settling in the pit of your stomach.

“Just, forget I said that, it's just another measure of contraceptive, we don't need um — you know to lose the other, just to make sure you know! The IUD might fail…” You clear your throat, knowing that an IUD's failure is only... like 2%. 

Your heart starts beating wildly in your chest and you feel the need to escape this awkward situation and him. 

“I uh, I’m gonna get changed and go home… and we can talk later,” you mumble and get up from the chair, not looking into his eyes, “thanks for breakfast…” 

You rush out of the room and away from him before he can even react or say a single world. You hurry up the stairs and walk back into his room, gathering your clothes as quickly as you can. 

“You’re so stupid,” you murmur under your breath, cursing at yourself. 

What were you thinking? That he wanted you like this? That he would care and get excited about something that wouldn’t mean anything to him?  

You don’t listen to the footsteps in the hallway or the door that opens behind you but you yelp in surprise when you feel his hands on your waist and he turns you around, ripping the skirt from your hands that you were just about to put on, he throws it back on the bed and cups your cheeks, nearly making you gasp from how dark and lust filled his eyes are. 

“You can’t just tell me that you’re letting me fuck you raw and then run out on me.” 

“I—“ 

With his lips against your own, he cuts you off roughly, not letting you finish whatever you were about to say as he kisses you with desperation in his touch as his hands move from your cheeks down to your waist and he grips it tightly. 

You whimper in need, throwing your arms around his neck, you ignore the surprise and the pounding in your chest. You deepen the kiss and bury your fingers in his messy hair. 

His lips taste like coffee and the sweetness from the waffles, his chest is pressed against yours tightly, so tightly that you can feel the beating of his own heart. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you feel him against your stomach, making you squeeze your legs together as you feel heat pooling in your lower stomach. 

And just like that, all your worries, all your overthinking disappear into nothing as pleasure takes over your body. 

The kiss is messy, his lips smack against yours continuously, his hands grope your body over his shirt that he wants to get rid of. 

Steve always feels eager and desperate to fuck you, to strip you off your clothes and taste you, to pleasure you with his tongue and his fingers, to take you in a way no one else can but he isn’t sure if he ever felt this kind of need before. He feels as though his skin is on fire, the burning seeping through his flesh and only you can mend it. 

His dick strains against his boxers and his sweatpants, almost hurting from how hard it is and he can’t help but growl against your lips when you slide your hand down his body and start to palm him over his clothes. 

He slips his hands under your shirt, touching your hot skin with his cold fingers. 

The sound of your whimper only pushes him further into you, gaining dominance in the kiss as his tongue moves against yours eagerly. 

He pulls away just enough to murmur against your lips, “you drive me crazy, Blondie.” 

You can’t hold back the whine that falls from your lips, you almost feel embarrassed for what he turns you into every time he touches you. 

His eyes are dark, almost unrecognizable, he looks hungry, like he’s starving, for you. And it does little to mend your own hunger. 

He grabs your waist tighter and picks you up, catching you off guard when he throws you on his bed, making you bounce on the mattress. 

Steve makes quick work of getting rid of his tank top before he crawls on top of you, spreading your thighs with his knee and reaching for the hem of your shirt, he practically rips it off of your body and exposes your bare chest to him, his eyes grow even darker in the process. 

He grabs your boobs with his large hands, pinching your nipples, he leans down and hovers over you. 

“Steve!” You moan, lips parting as you chase after his lips. 

“Keep moaning like that for me,” he murmurs before he smashes his lips back against yours, kissing you just as roughly as before. 

You close your eyes and reach for his shoulders, holding tightly onto him as you move your lips against his, melting into the kiss. 

You don’t even bother to try and fight for dominance, you won’t win, not today. Steve is in control, and you don’t mind, not for a single second. The pace of the kiss, the touch of his hands, his moans, and the roughness of his lips turn you into a desperate mess as you arch your back and lean into his touch, trying to grind against him. 

Your panties are already damp, the material clinging to your pussy and you just want him to rip them off you just as he did with the shirt. 

As though he can read your mind, he slips his hand down your stomach, his fingers reach the flimsy material that still covers you. He presses your hips down before he touches you the way you’ve been whining for. He groans into the kiss when he feels how wet you are, knowing that he is the cause of it. 

“Is that all for me?” He asks, not moving away from your lips, he rubs circles on your clothed clit, making you whine for more. 

“You know it is!” You don’t feel ashamed to admit it, you don’t bother to hide something that is so obvious anyway. 

He chuckles in satisfaction as he moves his middle and ring finger lower, teasing your entrance. 

“D-Don’t tease me,” you beg, pleading with your eyes as you dig your fingers into his shoulders.

“You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?” He smirks, pecking your lips as he moves your panties to the side. “So desperate that you want me to fuck you raw, huh?” He asks as he slips his fingers through your wet folds, gathering your slick and bringing his digits up to your clit. 

“Yes!” You whine as you buck your hips up, grinding against his fingers. 

“You want me to cum inside of you again, don’t you? Want me to fill you up, honey?” He asks as he continues to tease your clit before he slips two fingers into your dripping hole. 

You suck in a sharp breath, closing your eyes as a loud moan escapes you, he catches it with his lips, smashing his mouth back against yours, stealing your breath with the kiss and the pace of his fingers as he starts to drag them in and out of you, keeping your legs spread with his left hand. 

He lets you adjust for a moment, spreading you open with his long fingers, he kisses you deeply and grinds against your thigh, getting desperate for relief himself. 

The touch of your hand and the feeling of your lips against his own makes his heart flutter and his dick twitch in anticipation. 

This moment is all so driven by lust but he can no longer deny the way you make him feel, the way he needs to feel you close otherwise he might go insane, he wonders if you feel the same, if that is the reason why you want him in a whole new way. 

You clench around his fingers and move your hips, wanting more, wanting him deeper. You mewl against his lips when he curls his fingers inside of you and his thumb presses against your aching clit. 

“Do you hear that?” He asks breathlessly, pecking your lips over and over again. “You’re dripping for me.” 

Steve admires the scrunch of your nose and the furrowed brows, the desperate look in your eyes as you look into his. Your skin is flushed, your chest is rising up and down heavily, your nipples hardened from the coldness in the room and the pleasure in your bones, you’re getting wetter and tighter around his fingers. 

“But you want more, right?” He asks and leans down to wrap his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around it, “you want me to breed you, don’t you?” 

His words are driven by lust, a part of him he doesn’t recognize shining through, surprising both you and himself. 

You gasp, your cheeks flushing even deeper as the heat rages underneath your skin. You feel too shy to admit it but this might be exactly what you wanted. 

You liked it when he fucked you against his door, when he came inside of you and his cum rolled down your thighs, you loved it even, despite how messy it was, you loved it because it was him. 

You nod and shut your eyes again, your mouth waters at the feeling of his fingers hitting your g-spot and you arch your back in pleasure as your hands find their way back to his hair, pulling and playing with it, making him match his moans with yours. 

“P-Please, Steve…” You whimper as you feel the fire building up in your stomach, beginning to crash over you, “I’m so close.”

Steve starts kissing your chest and making his way up to your neck, tilting your head to the side to suck a mark onto your delicate skin as he continues to fuck you, faster and rougher, moaning at the squelching sounds and your pretty whimpers. 

“Yeah?” He breathes, peppering kisses along your neck and your jaw, “are you gonna be a good girl for me and cum around my fingers?” 

“Yes!” 

Your breathing gets heavier, your heart starts pounding faster and you can’t help but reach for his face, dragging him back to you so you can slam your lips back against his as your fingers dig into his hair roughly when he rubs your clit faster, throwing you over the edge with his touch. 

You kiss each other feverishly, you scrunch your eyes shut, letting the pleasure take control, letting him slam his fingers in and out of your pussy, causing tears to build up in your eyes from the hot intensity. 

“Let go for me,” he whispers against your lips, “cum for me.” 

One more thrust and a deeper swipe against your clit has you crying out his name in pleasure and this time, he lets you shut your legs around his arm, though that doesn’t stop him from moving his fingers still. 

Stars flash in your vision and the wind gets knocked out of you, the overwhelming high crashing over your body. 

“S-Steve,” you whimper. 

“Yes?” He kisses your lips. “Tell me what you want.”

“You!” 

“Me?” He smirks, licking his lips as he looks down, watching the way your thighs are shaking already. “How do you want me? Tell me, honey.”

You are so deep in your pleasure, no shame, no shyness exists for you in this very moment. You are so eager to feel him the way you’ve been craving him for weeks now. 

“I want your cock, Steve–” You whine, tugging at his hair. “Please fuck me!” 

He chuckles darkly, eyes growing five shades darker, something in him awakens, something that had never been there before, not even the night of Vickie’s party. 

He pulls his fingers out of you, fighting the urge to stick them into your mouth and make you lick and suck on them. He grabs your hips and manhandles you on your stomach, knocking the breath out of you again. He slaps your ass and gropes it roughly. 

“Stevie!” 

“Get on all fours for me.” 

You whine, gripping the sheets underneath you tightly as you look back at him over your shoulder, nearly pouting at him but he only slaps your ass again. 

“C’mon Blondie, wanted me to breed you, we gotta do it the right way.” 

His fingers are still coated with your slick as he pushes his sweatpants and boxers down, making his dick slap against his stomach, pre cum rolls down his length, his tip is red, he is aching for you and twitching in anticipation, knowing that he gets to fuck you without a condom.  

Steve expects you to push yourself up on your hands and knees but instead, you worsen his hunger by pressing your front against the mattress and pushing your ass up, presenting yourself to him. 

“Holy fuck,” he curses, biting back the growl that threatens to fall from his lips as he takes in the sight of you. Your pussy glistens, the arch in your back is deep, your ass up high and you look over your shoulder again, giving him a pout and desperate eyes as you beg him to fuck you and fill you up. 

The hunger in him is insatiable, he already knows it, he will never get enough of this, he will never get enough of you and he doesn’t mind, not even after last night’s realization and how easy it could now be for you to crush his heart — it’s yours now. 

He wishes that he could take a picture of this and keep it in his wallet. 

He moves closer to you, grabbing your ass and sliding his palms over your cheeks before he grips your hip tightly, slipping his already soaked fingers through your folds, he gathers your slick and uses it as lubricant to stroke his dick before he presses himself against you, pressing his lips together as he looks down at your pussy. 

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do this,” he murmurs as he teases you with his tip, circling it around your dripping entrance, moaning at the sight of it. 

“P-Please,” you whimper, pressing your ass back against him, prompting him to hold your hip even tighter as he slips his length through your wet folds, continuing to tease you and himself.  “Just fuck me already!” 

The tone in your voice is nowhere near demanding, it’s anything but that, you're whiny and desperate – you are showing a sight only he is allowed to see. 

The excitement is burning in him, his own desperation eating at him. Seeing you like this makes him want to do things he has never done before. His fingers dig into your flesh and he sucks in a sharp breath as he slowly pushes into you. 

Your name falls from his lips in a moan, his eyelashes flutter as the pleasure finally envelopes him. With one hand on your hip and the other now grabbing your ass, he inches inside of you, groaning at the sight of your puffy lips around his length. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, gripping the sheets tightly and shutting your eyes as you feel him splitting you open. 

“You’re taking me so fucking good, baby,” he praises you, smacking his palm against your cheek once again, making you jerk and gasp in pleasure. “You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” 

Your stomach flutters at his words, as your walls do around his length, causing him to moan as he pushes in deeper and deeper until he’s buried inside of you, completely. 

“Y-Yes, Steve!” You cry out. “I’m your good girl!”

You are both doing things and saying words you never thought you’d ever use, whether it’s the pleasure that is controlling you both, the desperation or something in the atmosphere but neither of you care, this is nice, this is perfect. 

“That’s right,” he growls as he pulls out and slams back in, making you cry out his name. 

Steve starts rolling his hips, roughly and desperately, picking up the pace with every thrust, making you both moan and whimper in pleasure. His cock hitting deep in every right spot, making you drool already. 

You hold onto the sheets, your eyes roll back as filthy sounds fall from your lips. You want to look back and watch him, see how good he looks fucking you like this but you find no energy to lift yourself up or turn your head. Your chest is pressed against the mattress beneath you, Steve’s hands feel so right on your hips, molding into your skin so perfectly. Waves of pleasure crash over you, making you arch your back even further, giving him an even deeper angle. 

You gasp in surprise, eyes shooting open when his large palm smacks against your flesh again. 

“You’re so filthy, honey,” Steve moans, his eyes nearly roll back as he feels your tight walls clench around him, prompting him to hold you tighter and fuck you harder, snapping his hips against your ass. “Letting me fuck you like this, wanting me to cum in this tight little pussy.” 

You feel his throbbing length, the veins on his cock, his balls slapping against your sensitive skin, the roughness of his touch and the eagerness in his voice – it overwhelms you in the best way possible, especially when you feel him growing more and more desperate the closer he gets to his high. 

“Y-Your cock feels so good!” You whimper, your head falling and your eyes closing, tears slipping from your eyes. 

“Yeah?” He breathes as he looks down at the way he is slamming in and out of you, his length glistening with your slick, your wet walls hugging his dick perfectly. You keep clenching around him, making him throb and twitch inside of you, making him whine in a way he isn’t sure he ever did before – but one thing is for sure, Steve had never felt anything like this before, and he knows he never will again after you. “Your pussy feels like fucking heaven.”

Your walls flutter around him, drool slips past your lips and down on the rumpled bed sheets, you can feel your second high approaching, you can feel the tension in your stomach, the ache in your clit. 

Steve fucks you mercilessly, dragging you back and forth on the mattress as though you are his personal fucktoy. And for a moment, you both don’t share any words, only your moans of desperation and need fill the room, the wet sounds of his dick slamming into your weeping pussy, the bed creaking beneath you, and the occasional smacks against your ass. 

His hair clings to his sweaty forehead, his cheeks are glowing red, and he doesn’t know where to look, he wants to see your face, he wants to keep staring at the way his dick disappears into you – this feels surreal, like it’s something that came straight out of his dreams. 

He feels the need to make you scream, so he slides his hand under you, his fingers finding your clit with ease, he begins to play with your sensitive nub as he changes his pace to slower but deeper and harsher. 

You gasp and twitch beneath him, trying to push yourself up only to fall back down again, the sight of it making him chuckle darkly. 

“Steve!” You scream out, feeling just how sensitive you are when he rubs your clit faster. “I-I’m so close!”

He can’t help himself when he leans down and presses his lips against your shoulder blades, murmuring against your skin, “do it, cum around my cock, baby.” 

Stars and tears blur your vision, the feeling of his lips on your skin only adding to the pleasure, the softness of it a stark contrast to the harshness of his thrusts, the sweet nickname and the swipe against your clit throwing you over the edge completely and you’re suddenly cumming and screaming out for him. 

“B-Baby,” he murmurs in a mix of a whimper and a growl, hands flying back to your hips, he grabs you tightly as he feels your walls clinging to him, making him shudder. “I’m gonna… fuck…” He groans, going to pull out, out of instinct. “I need to–”

“Cum inside of me, Stevie!” You sob as his fingers still move against your clit. “Please, please, please!” 

He can’t even control it, your words hit him so hard and he suddenly cums, hard. He spills inside of you with a loud moan and a whimper of your name, he paints your walls white and he keeps moving, even as his eyes roll back and he grows sensitive. All of this turns him on even more, not even after he reaches his high, if anything, his hunger is even more insatiable now. 

He slows his thrusts and he breathes heavily, his eyes are still clouded with lust, moans still falling as he takes in the sound of your whiny whimpers. 

Steve licks his lips as he pulls out after a moment, despite not wanting to but the vision in front of him is so worth it, his cum leaks out of your pussy and starts to roll down your thighs. He doesn’t know what gets over him when an animalistic growl falls from his lips and he gathers his cum with his fingers and pushes it back inside of you. 

“Don’t wanna let any of it go to waste,” he smirks when you whine even louder. 

You’re surprised and incredibly turned on by his action, you have to press your shaking thighs together, the ache in your center growing bigger despite the two orgasms you just had.

“Steve…”

Steve is staring at your pussy, at the way you’re sucking his fingers in, at the mess he made of you, how can he not grow hard all over again? 

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” he murmurs under his breath. 

He pushes his fingers in and out of you, admiring the way he pushes his cum deeper back inside of you – somehow the thought of what could happen if you didn’t have an IUD turns him on even more. Steve keeps going, using the same slow pace for a while, getting lost in you before he snaps back as your whimper tears him back into reality – but he wants more, he needs more, and he decides to keep you here with him, all day.

“I got you,” he whispers, pulling his fingers out and cleaning them off on his messed up sheets before he starts kissing up your body, letting his lips linger on your shoulder before he wraps his arm around you and flips you over on your back. 

His lust filled eyes intensify when he sees the tears pooling on your lower lash line, the needy look in your own eyes. He cups your cheek and presses his lips against yours for a short kiss, craving more of you. 

You reach your arm out weakly, and kiss him back, savoring this moment for as long as you can before he pulls away again and collapses on the bed beside you, he places his hand on your thigh, keeping it there as he starts breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath. 

Silence falls over the both of you, you stare up at the ceiling, too speechless to speak, too stunned with what just happened. 

His fingertips stroke your skin, your heart is pounding in your chest, your legs quivering as his cum leaks out of you, making you press your thighs together. 

You can’t believe that you would ever be turned on by something like this, that you’d ever be here, that you’d ever do something like this with him. 

You want more and more. 

You blink, a lazy smile tugging at your lips, the fluttering in your heart and stomach taking over again. 

“So…” Steve mumbles, turning his head to look at you, to admire your beautiful side profile, “can we discard the condom from now on?” 

“Only if you wrap it up for… others,” you mumble, wincing at your own words as you don’t want to ruin the moment for yourself by thinking of this. 

Steve furrows his brows, smile falling a little. 

You think that there are others? 

You think that he could even think of being with someone else, let alone like this? 

He squeezes your thigh reassuringly, “there are no others, don’t worry about it.” He says softly. 

Your features soften and a weight falls off your shoulders and your heart, and still you can’t help but feel surprised about his confession. 

“You are the only one, Blondie.” 

He wants you dead. 

You are so sure of it, Steve Harrington wants you dead. 

Why else would he say such words to you? 

“O-Oh?” 

Steve is so in bliss, he doesn’t even notice the blush in your cheeks and the quivering tone in your voice.

“Yeah, and what about you?” 

You turn your head to look at him, you lock your eyes with his. 

What about you? 

You can never touch another man again, that is for sure. No matter what the outcome of this thing between you will be, you’re ruined, utterly ruined. 

You blink, heat flushing over your body the longer you look at him, at his messy hair that you always want to bury your fingers in, the hazel in his eyes that is now your favorite color, his puffy lips that you want to kiss, moles you want to count and trace with the tips of your fingers. 

God, he is beautiful. 

“There are no others for me either,” you whisper, feeling exposed and vulnerable to admit it to him. 

The smile that appears on his face catches you off guard, he seems… happy about it? 

And he is, he truly is. 

Steve doesn’t want you to be with anyone else, he doesn’t want you to see other men, kiss them or let them touch you the way he is allowed to. He wants to be the only one for you, he wants to be your only one. 

He squeezes your thigh again, scooting closer to you, he eyes your face and lets them linger on your lips. 

“Guess we’re exclusive then huh?” He asks with a smirk on his lips. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, hope flickering inside of you, the anxiety you felt over thoughts of him with other girls diminishing just like that. 

You try to act normal, like you aren’t fazed by his words, like your heart didn’t burst, like this isn’t anything special. 

You clear your throat, “seems like it.” 

He chuckles, hiding the happiness that flutters in him. 

This is what he wants, this is what he has been craving for a while now, to have you all to himself, to be the only to touch you, to taste you, to fuck you, to fill you up and claim you as his own. 

“You got anything to do today, Blondie?” 

“I uh… I was gonna meet up with Eddie—“

“Cancel it.” 

You raise your brows in surprise, confusion flashes in your features but your heart slips a beat when you see the darkening in his eyes again and the feeling of his hand gripping you tighter and harder. 

“What?”

He moves closer and closer until his lips are on your jaw and he tilts your head to the side so he can kiss your neck, nibbling at your skin and pressing his hand against your sensitive core again. 

“Cancel. It.” He rasps into your neck. 

A gasp tears from your lips when he slips his fingers back into your pussy, morning at the feeling of his cum inside of you. 

“You don’t need anyone but me today,” he whispers as he presses another kiss against your neck and curls his fingers inside of you. 

You bite your lip and moan when he spreads your legs with his free hand, his long fingers pushing deeper into you — you are so sensitive, so overstimulated but just like him, you can’t get enough, you want more. 

“Steve…” 

“Mhmm.” He murmurs against your neck, peppering kisses along your skin, “I know, baby. I’m gonna take good care of you.” 

And taking good care he did. He fingered you in bed until you saw stars, mesmerized by how his own spent worked as lube, mixed with your own juices. You felt exhausted after that, so he drew a bath for you and even helped you wash your hair, knowing your limbs were all tired out.

But he couldn’t have enough of you. Not when you got into his mustard sweater because you felt a little chilly, leaving your legs bare. He wanted to give you more time to relax but he couldn’t help himself while making lunch, so he had to bend you over the kitchen counter to make you scream again.

Overstimulation was very much present, to the both of you, but you couldn’t stop. You wanted to feel him and he wanted to feel you. It felt intimate, and private, but most of all… it felt… hopeful.

Hopeful that, even if you spent a whole day fucking, that this new development means something. Hopeful that this exclusivity is real and will go on until he decides to actually take the leap, to actually fight for what he wants again. Hopeful that he feels the same as you do. That you two would not do this with anyone else, but with each other.

But those thoughts can be for another day. For tomorrow. Maybe the day after, because right now, as he hugs you in the middle of the night, laying in bed, dinner devoured, and one last round of feeling one another, you feel your heart be calm for the first time in a while. 

Because for the first time ever you actually feel it. Genuine. True. It is no longer a mere word that you discard, no longer a word that sits in the back of your mind, thinking you would be so stupid to actually let yourself feel that.

But this night, you swore you felt something at the top of your head that you are sure you didn’t make it up. You felt a press at the top of it. A kiss. A good night kiss from his part as he kept rubbing circles on your lower back. This is not the same Steve from a month ago. This is not the same you from a month ago. You two are not the same as a month ago. 

So you let yourself feel it. Embrace it. And maybe… maybe it will grow more at some point that it might give you the courage to take that definite step.

You felt confident.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #stranger things angst

[leqonsluv3r]

husband!leon kennedy

—re!4 husband leon x pregnant!wife!reader, a headcanon list

based on this one-shot request

masterlist taglist

an: decided to give you guys this hc list since you guys liked the oneshot so much, giving you guys a little peek of what happens after the oneshot. i’m finally moved and currently unpacking at my new place, i’ll be working on requests and opening them back up soon. hope you guys enjoy, pls reblog and like if you do <3

husband!leon who buys you all the food your body deserves. anything for his wife and his growing baby inside of you.

husband!leon who helps you plan and decorate the nursery for your child. he’s just happy he gets to be a dad, especially with you involved.

husband!leon who drives you to all of your doctors appointments, always having tears pool in his eyes whenever he sees your guys growing child on the ultrasound.

husband!leon who always lets you pick whatever you want for dinner, even if it’s not something he wants. as long as your happy and you get what you want.

husband!leon who massages your swollen feet after you complain how much they hurt. rubbing your calves and legs just to make sure your comfy. he wants what’s best for you.

husband!leon who rubs your belly when you both are laying in bed together, pressing kisses to it and talking to the unborn baby. he knows the baby can’t fully hear him yet but he’s too excited.

husband!leon who helps you pick out stuff for the baby to wear after you find out the gender. cute little onesies and footies, stuffed animals and whatever else your heart desires. only the best for his wife and his baby.

husband!leon who hangs up all the ultrasounds up on the fridge like a kid displaying artwork, he likes watching his baby grow. he’s still having a hard time believing he’s a father even if the evidence is right in front of him.

husband!leon who will go down on you because you can’t even touch yourself, making you moan and whimper. he knows the hormones make you more susceptible and more horny, he doesn’t mind one bit. knowing he’s the one that gets to ravish you when you’ve been pent up.

husband!leon who loves the fact that he can still fuck you like your not carrying his kid, practically crying on his cock as he pounds into you, rubbing your swollen tits and pressing kisses all over your body, caressing your belly. he knows you love it, giving each other what you want.

husband!leon who is the king of aftercare, especially when your pregnant. he helps you take a bath afterwards. giving you bubbles and even going so far as to getting in with you and massaging your back.

husband!leon who watches you struggle with the simple tasks you used to do before you were pregnant. if you need something from a shelf because it hurts for you to reach, he grabs it for you. if you can’t stop crying over the most simplest things, he hands you some tissues and holds your hand. he’s supporting you the whole way through this because you need it.

husband!leon who lets you lay on the couch on days your not feeling the best, letting you watch whatever your heart desires. even if it’s something he can’t even stand like the bachelorette or some bad reality tv show.

husband!leon who watches you open presents for the baby shower. your happy, opening little onesies and gifts from your guys friends and family. watching your mom cry happy tears when you open her gift; your stuffed bear from when you were a baby.

husband!leon who watches you hug your mom, stuffed bear still in your hand and tears pouring out of your eyes. he knows that you have been dealing with a lot going through this pregnancy and he’s just happy that your getting some joy out of it.

husband!leon who lets you have whatever weird craving your wanting. even if it’s pickles and frosting or peanut butter and graham crackers. he lets you have whatever you want, within reason, letting you have the cravings that make you and the baby happy.

husband!leon who when your doing the dishes, your water breaks. he doesn’t think first, he acts. he gets the bag that he’d packed and grabs you. he’s nervous but he’s doing his best to push his own nerves aside and get you and the baby to the hospital.

husband!leon who practically speeds down the interstate to get you to the hospital on time. weaving through a couple cars and speeding, all the while your hand is squeezing his in death grip as he just tells you to breathe through the contractions.

husband!leon who gets you to the hospital in one piece, your hand almost breaking his where he holds it. letting the nurse guide you into the delivery room to get you prepped for labor. your eyes are wide with pain and nerves, leon just keeps standing next to you, holding onto your hand and pressing kisses to your head the entire time.

husband!leon who watches as you push, push, and push over and over again. your doing so great and he’s so proud of you, being able to bring a life into this world, he’s never seen anything like it. he just rubs your back, the doctor kneeling in between your legs and helping the baby come out.

husband!leon who watches as the doctor tells you the babies almost here, your exhausted frame trying to push the baby out the rest of the way. he mumbles praises into your hair and ear, telling you that you can do it. you can push the baby out, you can get through this.

husband!leon who watches you do the final two pushes, the doctor helping the baby come out. leon hears the small cries before seeing the small baby being cradled in the doctors hands, his eyes watering at the sight. he looks over at you and sees how exhausted but happy you are, your eyes watering just like his.

husband!leon who watches as the nurse cleans and swaddles your guys baby, bringing it over to you. your eyes crying big tears. the baby looks just like the both of you combined, having your eyes and his cheeks. he sits gently next to you on the bed, rubbing your head. he admires you and your guys baby, how beautiful it is. how you did it, despite you thinking you couldn’t, he knew you could.

husband!leon who gets to hold the baby for the first time while you rest, talking to the baby in soft whispers, the babies only soft coos in response. “i’m your daddy, yeah…yeah, i’m your daddy…” he murmurs and watches as the baby wraps the tiny hand around his finger. “so cute…so cute…” he smiles as tears leak down his face.

husband!leon who days after you’ve healed from having the baby, you all three get to go home. leon goes from room to room with the baby, showing it its nursery and giving it a tour, even if his child isn’t going to remember this. he does it all the same.

husband!leon who changes his first diaper in the days following, who does it with pride. knowing that all his practice of learning the past nine months are going to use. he lets you rest and sleep whenever you have time in between feeding and bonding with the baby.

husband!leon who loves that he’s a husband and a father, he gets to watch his child grow. he gets to have that luxury and it wasn’t something he always thought was possible. and with you, it’s more achievable and he loves you even more for that if it’s even possible.

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #re2 leon #re4 remake #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy au #leon kennedy x reader #re2 remake #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy hc #pregnancy #pregnancy au #leon kennedy re2 #leon kennedy re4 #leon kennedy re6 #leon resident evil #resident evil smut #re4 leon x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #re4 leon #di leon x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x fem reader

[444lec33]

The Arrangement // Mafia!Lando x Reader

WC: 1.7k

Warnings: none that I can think of

Author's note: This was so fun to write, I hope you guys enjoy it 🧡

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” you sighed looking incredulously up at the ceiling. 

“Well believe it because he’ll be here any minute,” your father said sitting behind his desk. 

There was a quick knock on the office door before it parted to reveal your mother standing there, an exaggerated grin on her face. She beckoned you closer and you went to her begrudgingly. She grabbed your chin looking you over and started smoothing out your outfit. 

“You know how much this means for both our families. Don't embarrass us now, sweetie.” 

You rolled your eyes and refused to respond as he three of you trekked the halls leading to wherever your soon-to-be husband was. 

He was standing there looking rather curiously at the art work that adorned the ornate dining room. 

You hated the sound of your name on his lips and the cheeky grin that accompanied it as he turned around. Your arms were folded in irritation as you gave a simple greeting, letting the awkwardness grow.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you show Lando the rose garden?” Your mother chided hopefully, knowing that without being prompted you would never move things along for Lando’s visit. You were going to make a joke about the future kingpin’s disinterest in flowers before Lando spoke up with a playful tone. 

“I would love that.” Oh he was eating this up. 

“It’ll be good for you two to have some alone time before the wedding.” Your father remained silent as your overzealous mother aligned the pieces to connect your family to the most notorious mob in the country. 

Lando was all too excited to appease your mother’s wishes. A rough palm reached out and collected your hand dragging you towards the back entrance of your home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know anything about you.” 

Your finance rolled his eyes before responding to your claim. “We’ve known each other for years, and this” he motioned between the two of you. “Was something we always knew would happen. No point in complaining,” he shrugged seeming as carefree as he always appeared for someone in his position. 

But Lando was right. You’d both grown up in relative proximity to one another, your families’ mafia ties linking the two of you in ways that ran deeper than you’d ever comprehend. 

“Alright fine,” you threw up your hands while standing up in front of him. “If we’re gonna do this we’re doing it my way.” 

Lando nodded, the appearance of his dimples telling you how comical he found your sudden interest in your present circumstances. “Ask away, love. Whatever you want and it’s yours.”

You hummed before rattling off the shortlist of needs you’d like to be met before you walked down the aisle to marry the mafia prince.

“Well for starters I want a ring. I big one. Like really big. Do not get me anything princess cut. Too predictable and cheap looking.” Lando was going to interject but you continued. “I don’t care if it’s gold or silver as long as it looks classy. Maybe a nice cushion cut or a Marquise. Dutch marquise,” you quickly added. “Oh and I wear a size 7.”

Lando took your brief pause as an opportunity to speak. “Should I be taking notes on all this,” he laughed and licked his lips clearly having fun with your pre-wedding demands. “Alright, now that I know what you want I promise I’ll deliver.” You knew he wasn’t lying. The Norris’ family was one of the wealthiest around, their fortune managed to dwarf the elaborate lifestyle your family’s own mob ties afforded you. 

“Okay, good. Glad we got that out of the way. Now if you’ll excuse me,” you pointed your thumb in the direction of your home, “I’d like to get back to enjoying the rest of my night.”

Lando was quick to his feet, his hand catching your wrist as you started towards the large mansion. “We’ve spent all night going over what you want, don’t you even care about what I’d like?” He questioned with a playful glimmer in his watercolored eyes.

“I couldn’t care less,” you turned and began walking again before Lando stopped you, grabbing your shoulders and spinning you to face him.

“That really hurts you know.” You rolled your eyes and glared at him. Leave it to Lando to make this situation into a joke. 

“Fine, what do you want? Separate houses? A girlfriend on the side? Whatever it is I really don’t care.”

“Honestly…” he trailed off, his hand rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. “I want us to give this a shot.” The words had barely left his mouth before you’d started laughing. “Okay, sure laugh at me but I’m being serious. Think about it this way; in a few weeks time we’ll be legally bound to each other and all the other bullshit that entails for the rest of our lives. You’ll probably, no definitely, be the mother of my kids.”

His words were making you feel things you wish you didn’t. As irritated as you were with this entire scheme your two families created you knew there was nothing you could ever do to escape it. Would leaning into it really be so bad? What’s the worst that could happen? Before you could interject with one of the million and one reasons you could think of to not forge a real relationship Lando spoke again. 

“You don’t have to decide now, whatever decision you make I’ll respect it.” You swallowed the lump that had grown heavy in your throat. “Oh and what you said earlier? I don’t want some girl on the side or whatever you want to call it. I’m actually willing to give us a try and I hope you’ll do the same.” 

You gaped at him, eyes wide. No dick on the side, no way. The words refused to leave your mouth but you nodded, hoping to bring the conversation to a close. 

“I have eyes everywhere, but I’m sure you already know that. If I were you I’d tie up any loose ends before the wedding.” It took a moment for you to realize what he was indicating. But how could you ever forget who Lando Norris truly was. If you were to ever go behind his back he would know, and from the looks of it things wouldn’t end to well for you or your paramour. 

“Okay fine, you win.” 

A shit-eating grin spread across his perfectly structured face. “I win,” he said more to himself, clearly enjoying the taste of the words in his mouth. “I do have one more condition before we really do this.”

Your eyes didn’t deviate from his as you waited for him to get on with it. “I want a kiss.”

“Alright great talk but no. Have a great night!” You were practically sprinting to get inside but Lando was quick on his feet catching you almost instantly. “You know you really need to stop running away all the time. That’s something we’ll need to work on.” The proximity between the two of you was closer than ever. If it weren’t for his tight grip you would have squirmed under Lando’s heavy gaze. 

He reached out to grab you chin making sure your eyes were trained on him. “Better now than the first one be in front of everyone we know. Let’s consider this practice for D-day.”

Practice. Sure. 

“Okay,” you whispered before your better judgement could stop you. Lando was confident taking the lead as his lips came close to yours. Nothing could have prepared you for the feel of his plush lips against your. As the kiss dragged on you slowly felt the tension you’d harbored before leaving your body. Why did he have to be such a good kisser. 

It felt like forever before the two of you separated, an awkward pause hanging in the air as you tried to separate your hate for your pre-planned life from the growing lust you were feeling for your future husband. Lando removed his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. He pulled you close to him as he guided you the short trek from the rose garden to your home. 

If you looked even half as disoriented as you felt it was probably best to stave off the embarrassment and head straight upstairs. You reluctantly turned around at the sound of your fiancé calling your name. You cast your gaze down to the end of the spiral stairwell where he stood. “I’ll see you next Saturday.”

There were question marks swarming your head as you tried to figure out what he was talking about. Tonight was intense enough, what else would he need to see you for?

Lando swiped his hand against his facial hair barely trying to hide the pleasure he felt by catching you off guard. He tilted his head to the side, dimples more prominent than ever. 

“Saturday night. Our engagement party.” 

Oh. Ohhhh.

“Right. Okay, yeah.” You mentally kicked yourself for forgetting the second most important date on your calendar for the foreseeable future. 

“I think a week should give you enough time to think about our little chat.” You were more likely to be ruminating over that kiss. 

At this point you were drained. Words were too much so you just flashed him a thumbs up and trusted one of the maids to show him out. “Goodbye Lando,” you called over your shoulder ready to hide away in your room for the rest of eternity. 

“Goodnight wifey.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you finally reached your room you found yourself drawn to the window. You opened it up, not so subtly peaking at your fiancé’s black McLaren as it exited the gates. The sound of your phone vibrating on your bed pulled your attention from the sleek car growing distant from your home. You plopped down on your bed, body still wrapped in the warm jacket Lando covered you with. Looking at the device you noted several missed messages and calls. Some from your girl friends, and even more from your friends friends. You pulled a throw pillow close to you as you got comfortable scanning through your messages. 

Charles 

Still on for tomorrow?

Lewis 

Missed FaceTime 

Max

2 Missed calls. 1 Voicemail.

Time to tie up those loose ends…

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 #f1 x you #woc!reader #f1 x black!reader #lando norris x black!reader

[ozzgin]

I'm the anon who asked if your requests are open and i got busy assignments + presentations that i almost forgot about the request but now i remembered and it's based on my dream i saw that night..

How about a vampire who lost his relic (presumably a ring) and reader happens find it and tries it on, now the vampire is all panicking because guess what? That was a betrothal relic and it has binded the vampire's soul with the one of reader. They can't pull it out/take it of.. oh well, now they are stuck and obviously the vampire hates the idea of being stuck with a pesky human but hey they are kinda stupid..? How tf they tripped on thin air? Or how they are still alive even after being food poisoned 5 times a month? Vampire is now babysitter for his human *sighs * what has he gotten himself in..

(Please add yandere elements later on, my brain stoopid but i want a hot Victorian era vampire being obsessed with me ^^ muah!)

(I'm sorry this is so lengthy TT)

Yandere! Vampire x Reader

Featuring a ridiculously lucky Reader who constantly manages to escape a Vampire's assassination attempts. Did someone order a supernatural edition of enemies to lovers?

Content: gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior, mentions of stalking, romcom

[Monster masterlist] [Original works masterlist]

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" your friends gasp in unison, eyes fixated on the fallen ceramic pot that scarcely missed you, now laying shattered at your feet. You laugh reassuringly and wave your hand in dismissal. "It's the fifth time it happens today. Maybe there's a storm coming?"

From within the shadows, menacing eyes glowing red follow your movements. "Damn it!" The mysterious man curses under his breath. He stares enviously at the bulky ring on your finger. The ring bearing his Family signet, where part of his very soul resides. It has stayed with him for centuries, and somehow, to his utmost shame, he lost it. By the time he rushed back to retrieve it, you were carelessly sliding it down your finger. He wanted to strangle the life out of you right then and there, but he felt it: the immediate surge of contractual power, dominating his will and holding him back from breaking your bones. "It's a little tacky, isn't it?" your friend remarked. You nodded in agreement and tried to remove it, but the metal band tightened around your skin, painfully constricting your digit. It was stuck. It was too late.

Now he has to rely on cheap trickeries like this one. Sure, he may not be able to directly plunge his fangs into your neck, but the bonding curse does not shield you from "accidents", you see. It would be a real shame if that flower pot was to land straight into your head, ending you instantly and thus breaking the connection with him. Except you simply refuse to die. A mystery, a paradox, one that enrages him to no end. It's almost as if the ring is bringing you fortune at the cost of his misery.

"Have you had any luck removing that ugly thing?" the person standing next to you mentions. The vampire lord grits his teeth at the blasphemous words. This is what's become of him: a deceitful buffoon, having to sit and listen to his inheritance being mocked relentlessly. He holds back the urge of shouting that thousands have bled to death in order to forge that magnificence. "Not at all", you respond idly. "I tried taking it to a jeweler, and she said she could try to cut it, but she ended up having a heart attack right in the middle of it. She didn't even look that old, maybe it runs in her family?"

Unbelievable. The thought of reclaiming his relic haunts every second of his day, to the point he's become your shadow. Stalking your every move, your every breath, observing his prey and waiting for an opportunity to strike. He can already picture that pathetic face of yours, twisting in pain, begging for-...huh. Well, look at that, you're reading one of his favorite books. Perhaps you do have a little taste, after all. It won't save you from your terrible fate, but he might skip the prolonged torture.

There's plenty of quotes out there about knowing your enemy in order to guarantee your victory, though one might wonder where the limit of such knowledge resides. Or what counts as useful to begin with. The vampire lord is presently wondering about this very aspect, as he mouths your coffee order from a distance. Less sugar, huh? You did mention losing your sweet tooth. He shakes his head indignantly. Absolutely not! The throb of his heart is fueled by raw hatred and nothing else. One of days he will savour your demise.

Your ridiculous luck might just end today. You've taken a shortcut on your way back home, and didn't expect a shady, burly man to block your exit. A perverted grin stains his face as he approaches you, twiddling with his pocket knife. "Alone at this hour?" You frown and try to find a way out, but the man suddenly begins to heave and convulse before your eyes, grasping at his chest as the skin shrivels and dries. He collapses at your feet, body wilted as if it's been emptied of its vitality. The Vampire Lord clicks his tongue.

To think he'd rush to rescue his sworn enemy, a pitiful mortal like you. He didn't even get the chance to consider the aftermath. You stare at the stranger, confused but observant. Pale skin, crimson eyes, unnaturally sharp canines...and the fact he just drained a living being into a bloodless corpse: everything hints to one possibility. "Are you by any chance a vampire?" you find yourself mumbling. "You must've graduated from Harvard with those deduction skills", he responds sarcastically.

Everything else unfolds in a haze. Wasn't he planning to kill you and retrieve his ring? When the hell did he offer to walk you home to avoid more creeps? Why is he twirling his hair sheepishly whenever you praise his demonic powers? Oh, but it gets worse: why did he suddenly feel the urge to kiss you before returning to his cursed lair? Why did he accept your invitation to spend the night at your place instead? One moment ago, he was doing his best to curse you off this Earth. Now he's tugging stray strands of hair away from your blushing, whining face, asking you if it hurts. Damned human.

"How did you know I like this? Have you been stalking me?" you joke, nudging your undead boyfriend and setting the gift aside. "More or less", he confesses with a yawn. He recalls all that time spent dutifully spying on your oblivious self. "You know, a human like you shouldn't be able to dodge death like that." He turns to you and scans your features. Then, abruptly embarrassed, he ruffles your hair to block you from noticing his blush. "I suppose my failure was the better outcome. It's not too bad, having you around."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere vampire #vampire x reader #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #monster x human #monster boyfriend

[drdemonprince]

I was in the car with a new friend recently and he was fuming about stress at work, and his rent going up, and I was sympathetic and bummed for him, and then he started yelling about traffic and freaking out any time a car took more than a millisecond to get moving and it freaked me out and I fell silent. I guess he could sense the energy changing in the air.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Am I bothering you?"

"It's okay," I said instinctively, unconvincingly, trying to convince myself to get over it, to not make him feel bad, to not make things about my feelings. I searched for a justification as to why my reaction was wrong. "I guess I forget what it's like to drive a car."

I used to get screamed at for moving too slowly. I exasperated my parents taking so long finding the momentum to get up and do things. I was spacey. Everything was always happening so quick. Where I wanted to put my attention was never where the world wanted me to. They needed me to care about car routes and traffic and appointment times instead of smooth pebbles on the sidewalk or birds. And my dad was always so furious in the car. Certain he was the authority on what made a good driver and that everyone else was not up to his standards. Ranting and yelling and flipping out so badly it made me cry and then put on a big smile to reassure him. I almost gave up learning to drive as a teen because my slow, plunking movements and insecurity on the road sent him into such a rage.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the evening," my friend said.

"You didn't," I reassured him.

I didn't want him to think I had a problem with him complaining about his life. That is what friends are for. It was the road rage that touched an unaged part of me, and brough that part forward so strongly I couldn't hide it. I couldn't fix my face. I almost started to cry.

It was the first time in a very long time that I've been well and truly triggered. Certain experiences in the present can make old parts of me reverberate; there's a ringing that you get inside when someone's shampoo smells like a bad old boyfriend or somebody touches you the wrong way without meaning to and you briefly go a little dead. That's manageable. It's a useful cue that something needs to change quickly before you freak out. I thank those triggers for existing. But this one. It caused an actual emotional phase shift straight to the past. Freeze up and then fawn it off, play along, make up for your own reaction.

It's crazy how unsafe I genuinely felt for a moment! And I tend to critique people who abuse the language of "feeling unsafe" for manipulative and white supremacist ends, so it is useful for me to get that reminder of just how reality-bending an acute state of triggeredness is. I tell people to use their words and regulate their distress and there I was, unable to.

I had forgotten one of the major reasons that I hate cars! That is how long I have been away from my dad and car-dependent culture and intense, mean impatience. I have made a lot of the right choices to protect me over the years, or else this upset would not be so unfamiliar.

[songsofadelaide]

"These fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath— Taking all of me. We've already done it in my head. If it's make-believe, why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?"

Author's Note: Reader is 19. Gojo is three years older.

You know how you have people you call aunt and uncle but you aren't actually related to them? And they're just really good friends with your parents? That's what Satoru's parents were to you. Your mothers were close since they were children and they both pursued modelling as they grew older. While your mom eventually retired from the game and chose a more quiet life with a kind lawyer for a husband, your Aunt Arisu became a famous supermodel and married into a family of old money— the Gojos.

And though your mom got married much earlier since she retired from modelling first, your Aunt Arisu got pregnant right off the bat after her wedding. She was a spoiled little thing, too, always calling for your mom and not so much her husband when her cravings and hormones reared their ugly heads. She often chided your mom to give her child a playmate, but not too late. She hoped to have a pretty daughter so they could wear fancy matching clothes.

Aunt Arisu's son Satoru was three years old when you were born. And while he wasn't the daughter she pined for, she loved him so, so much because he was just as pretty as she always hoped for. He was present when you were born, locked in his mother's arms as she held him out to take a peek at you.

...The story never gets old. Your mother and Aunt Arisu would always be laughing as they got drunk on their sweet wine every two weeks or so, and your family's kitchen was still a mess after hosting dinner for the Gojos again. Your fathers were drinking whiskey and smoking their expensive cigars on the front porch, talking about current affairs and stocks if you knew. And Satoru...

Well...

He was always welcome in your room. He always brought his own toys to play with and sometimes played with yours, too. Satoru was like the older brother you never had, and he was always so sweet to you... That is until you turned sixteen and suddenly, he was way too good for you to hang out with.

You didn't see much of him in the last three years, but you always knew where he was— on the cover of your favourite teen magazine, that soda commercial on TV, fronting promotional material for high-end clothing and expensive mobile phones on social media... All of that made sense. He's the son of modelling royalty, after all. Your childhood friend was the nation's sweetheart now and you're probably just a girl in his boyhood memories.

You didn't bother showing yourself downstairs when the Gojos arrived for your usual dinner date. You couldn't stomach seeing Satoru sitting across from you at the table, his silvery hair and feathery lashes framing his blue, blue eyes, his slender fingers curling around the wine glass that was usually just your mother's and her best friend's... His eyes twinkling in mischief as he calls your name with that voice of his, both so sweet and so sultry...

Why did he push you away back then when he was the one to embrace you first?

That embrace was etched so in your head since you were sixteen, and it was something you always remembered whenever you saw his posts on Instagram, whenever your mother watched his commercials on TV, whenever you've been struggling at high school... And whenever you were alone in your room in your bed— the walls the only thing that could hear you and your thoughts, possibly— as you dove deeper into your inane imagination.

"Toru..."

He wanted you just as much.

...So much that you were crying to yourself, too, thinking of how stupid you were to believe your Aunt Arisu's silly little joke that you were born for her lonely little son to have someone—

The soft knock on your bedroom door was enough to snap you out of your deluded solo flight. You jumped out of your bed without a second thought about how flushed you looked. "I'll be there in a second, mom... Just... a sec!"

Perhaps you should have thought about it first.

"Hey there. Are you... feeling okay?"

Gojo Satoru. As though he stepped right out of your fantasies mere moments ago.

"Uh..."

He wedged his foot on your door as you tried to shut him out in panic. What the hell was he doing here? "Wait a moment. I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

And what could he possibly want to talk about now?

When you turned sixteen, Satoru's father sat him down for a conversation. He was told that you weren't just some girl anymore. That you weren't children anymore and that he needed to be more careful around you. Because you were growing into a woman— And because of that, there were certain things you couldn't do together anymore.

"What are you saying, dear? If Toru likes her, then I'm all for it. That girl is my best friend's daughter and a fine young lady! I wouldn't want anyone else for my boy!"

...And it bothered him. A lot. Because it meant he couldn't hold you anymore. And when he did so once out of habit— because your laughter delighted him so much— he pushed you away so hard that you held back tears. He didn't know what came over him back then, but he stopped coming over to your room afterwards.

Satoru couldn't handle the way you avoided his gaze whenever he was around for your family's shared dinner. He realised you must have been finally done with him tonight when you didn't bother showing up at all even though you were just upstairs in your room.

"...ask Toru to call her downstairs! I haven't seen that girl for quite some time now! Has she been..."

"...with university lately. There's this boy, too. Her classmate, I think..."

The older women's conversation faded in his head the moment your mother mentioned a boy— a classmate— and just how close the two of you have grown while you were in university. Good grief. He couldn't handle it. He couldn't.

You were supposed to be his.

He made his way to your room upstairs, his footsteps as soft and quiet as a cat's, and he was ready to talk to you. About everything. About why the last three years were torment for him. About why his father was right to remind him that you weren't children anymore because children wouldn't think the way he did. About why you shouldn't go out with that guy from your uni—

Satoru heard them. The faintest of whimpers from your bedroom. And if he was right in his head, he seemed to have heard his name, too.

He wasn't going to let go of this.

You opened the door with your face still flushed and your clothes all rumpled and you nearly shut him out if didn't think fast enough. You let go of the door and allowed him inside your room, the sound of the locks unheard because of the rush of blood in your ears.

He's going to take what's his. Without so much of an effort, too, by the way you willingly walked into his arms the moment he opened them to receive you.

#songsofadelaidewrites💛 #mari's prompts 🎠 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #i wrote this while listening to ttpd #guilty as sin? #starry divider by @/cafekitsune

[whimsyeo]

perfect for you

જ⁀➴ jeong yunho x fem!reader (ft. seonghwa)

༄ yunho prepares the perfect date to finally pop the question to you. absolutely nothing goes as planned.

wc; 2.7k

cw; failed marriage proposal, established relationship, absolute pure fluff, minor injury (reader), slight mention of blood, yunho’s trying his best okay</3

notes; on a writing kick here lately, and i had to write something sweet to make up for my last angsty yunho fic! small spoiler: he cries this time haha :,)

🎧 sunlight by hozier & 18 by one direction

Yunho had been planning this night for weeks. With the help of resident hopeless romantic, his close friend Seonghwa, he was certain the preparations couldn't of gone any better.

A romantic dinner followed by a walk in the park to a decided upon clearing, where you two could watch the stars together. Then, while you were distracted by the constellations, he would get down on one knee and ask you the question that's been weighing on his mind and even heavier on his heart for as long as he's known you.

Truly, he's known all along. Blurted it out, too, before he could stop himself on what was just your very second date together. That he could imagine himself marrying you. He had turned red in the face from the blunder while you only giggled. He was relieved his declaration hadn't bothered you at all, and spurred on by the sound of your unabashed joy, he felt all the more assured of his feelings.

Seonghwa had suggested not doing anything too out of the ordinary from your regular date nights to not draw any suspicion. Yunho agreed with this, as difficult as it was not to pounce on you from sheer excitement after finally seeing you in the dress he had bought you just for this evening. You both occasionally coordinated the other for your respective planned date nights, so you'd had no qualms about wearing what he had picked out for you. You looked a dream in the dark red fabric, the color suiting you perfectly and the fit even better than Yunho could've imagined (women's sizing was a complete mystery to him, and so he felt once again grateful to have had Seonghwa's help).

He finds himself staring at the expanse of your bare shoulders when you call him on it, his gaze snapping to meet your's with what can only be a blinding smile. He can't hide his enthusiasm in the slightest, but given your past comparisons of him to that of a hyperactive puppy on just any regular day, he's hopeful that his demeanor comes as no surprise to you. The star gazing would be new for you both, but otherwise, you didn't seem the slightest bit privy to his actual plans. He feels positive that the night is already going so well.

Until it doesn't.

"Sunday?" Yunho asked, brows pulled together in confusion. "Are you sure? I'm positive I made the reservation for Saturday."

Yunho pats down his pants, the weight of the ring in his front pocket suddenly feeling so much heavier, and sighs when he can't find the familiar imprint of his phone. Of course, he'd left it in his car.

"I'm sorry, sir," the hostess says, tapping on the screen in front of her. "Your reservation was made for the 21st."

"Today's the 20th?" He mumbles to himself. He had prepared for everything so thoroughly, how could he have gotten the actual date wrong?

"It happens, love," you reassure from beside him. He glances over as you rub his arm, an unwavering smile still present on your face. "There's an Italian place across the street. I'm pretty sure they're reservation optional."

Yunho relaxes at your quick thinking. He had felt himself begin to spiral, already believing the whole night was ruined because he somehow messed up this one little thing. He realizes he shouldn't let a small mix up change the entire course of the night, so he nods, giving you an appreciative grin as he agrees.

The place you mentioned is, in fact, directly across from your usual date spot. Yunho never paid it much mind, as you two only ever came to this side of town for the same restaurant every time. But standing outside of it now, the building is just as inviting. Warm lighting shining through the iron windows and then the door when he holds it open for you. The blend of aromas from where you enter is pleasant, and he almost feels silly for nearly panicking over something so honestly small. It was a shame the same restaurant he'd officially asked you out in wouldn't be apart of your proposal story now, but while you appreciated those kinds of sentimental attachments as much as he did, he knew better than to think it would actually change anything for you.

(Yunho had asked you before about what your dream proposal might look like. He had imagined something like a ferris wheel ride, or watching the fireworks together on a warm summer night. A customary dish from your dream travel destination or maybe a home cooked picnic.

"You could propose to me with a paper ring and I'd still say yes," you told him so easily. As if your words didn't make his heart nearly leap entirely out of his chest and run home to you, it's true holder, from the deep affection that floods him.

The topic of marriage wasn't uncharted territories for you both. You talked about it before as something you would equally want whenever the timing is right. Yunho only ever held out for your sake, really. In his heart of hearts he'd always known it belonged with you.

Unable to contain the love he feels any longer, he pressed a firm kiss onto your cheek, "I just want it to be perfect for you. All you've ever dreamed of."

Yunho means it with his whole being. You could ask for the world and he'd find a way to give it to you, or at least run to the very ends of the Earth trying. Never giving up on his search unless you were the one to then tell him to.

You sit up suddenly, him pouting at the loss of warmth by his side while you turn to him seriously. Cupping either side of his face as your eyes pour into his, you make absolute sure that your words are heard loud and clear.

"You are everything I've ever dreamed of, Yunho.")

You're sat comfortably in a booth meant for two when the waiter brings your food, you both having settled for variations of the same pasta dish. The smell is just as inviting as when you first walked it.

As Yunho always does, he waits for you to begin eating first. It's only after you take a bite that he then picks up his own fork, and as he's bringing it to his mouth, he notices your gaze fixed on him.

"What?" He asks, nonchalant. He takes the bite off the fork while your shoulder shake with barley contained laughter. His chewing slows to a stop as the realization dawns on him. He looks down at his plate, a frown creasing between his brows. "Oh. This tastes horrible."

Your giggles break through at that, his head shooting up at the sound and a grin taking over his face on it's own accord.

"Yeah," you agree, smiling despite your words. "It does."

Yunho can't help but chuckle as well, and before long you're both unable to contain your equally loud laughter. Yunho can't find it in himself to be upset at yet another unexpected bump in the road when you just find it so funny.

It's a while before you two are able to look at each other again without laughing, and once you can, Yunho suggests taking your chances on the food vendors you had passed coming inside. Street skewers sound like fine dining compared to the over salted yet still bland pasta in front of you, so you agree.

The chicken skewers are in fact a lot tastier. You and Yunho share your respective two before your walking down the same street as before, interlaced hands swinging between you.

Dinner was unfortunate, but the second half at least was completely out of Yunho's control. He feels better because of that and your easy going reaction to it all. In the future, he imagines you too cracking up over it again, about how the night he proposed was so far from perfect but ended as happily as ever. He can't physically smile any wider at the thought of what's to come, so he squeezes your hand in barley contained excitement.

He can no longer deny the nerves twisting in his stomach once more. The actual proposal was the one thing that could absolutely not go wrong. He couldn't picture in any way that it could - you were a few minutes walk away from the park it was meant to happen, and he could still feel the weight of the ring that he had no way of forgetting in his pocket. Surely it would be smooth sailing from here.

Yunho's steps stutter as he recognizes what sounds suspiciously like thunder rumbling overhead. He huffs a laugh, because there's no way - he must be just so on edge that he's imagining things now. The weather was the one thing he had worried about the most and planned carefully around from the beginning, constantly checking the forecast all morning just to reassure himself. It'd read as a zero percent chance for rain the whole day. No signs of a drizzle at any point this week, even.

But then the first drop falls, and Yunho swears this must be a joke. He tilts his head up as the rain starts, picking up momentum a lot quicker with every passing second. You come to the realization just as he does, shoulders rising as a surprised gasp leaves your lips.

"Let's get you inside," he says, glancing around for any kind of overhang. The closest one he sees is just up ahead, a little further into your walk and closer to the parking lot his car is in.

Determined to at least get you out of the rain before deciding his next course of action, he tugs on your arm. The rain only falls harder with every hurried step you both take, and even if your positively soaked already, Yunho tries to pull you along quickly. Belatedly taking into account how damp the sidewalk has already gotten too, until you almost entirely slip out of his hold and onto your knees on the concrete.

He manages to stop you from completely face planting, but doesn't miss your slight wince as he helps you back to your feet. Yunho decides the overhang is a lost cause and you're better off going straight to the car instead. So, with hurried but more cautious steps, he takes you straight there.

You're both equally drenched by the time he helps you into the passenger seat, and rounds the car to his driver's side. He breathes a sigh of relief once he's finally out of the frigid rain, and quickly cranks up the car to get the heat started before you get sick. He flicks on the overhead lights as he turns to check on you.

"Are you-" Yunho starts to ask, but his gaze falls onto you knee that presumably had hit the ground after your fall. The other came out unscathed, luckily, but he doesn't feel the least bit better when your left knee is scrapped enough to have small droplets of blood forming. "Oh, love, you're bleeding..."

"I'm okay," you reassure, a smile on your lips despite the angry redness of your knee. "It's just a little scratch."

Yunho still feels terrible, even as your sat on the bathroom sink while he dabs at the scrapes with feather like touches. The cotton ball in his hand hardly makes any contact with the wounds, and you can't help but laugh softly at his overly careful antics.

"I don't know if that's doing much of anything," you tease lightheartedly, hoping to ease some of the crease between his brows.

It does no such thing, "I don't want to hurt you even more."

You sigh, "Yunho, baby..." His frown is still fixated on your wounded knee, so you gently cup his chin to encourage his attention back to you. "Look at me. I'm okay, I promise."

You bring your right hand to hold the other side of his jaw, holding firm eye contact to ensure your words stick. Presumably they do, but you don't anticipate Yunho's own filling with tears in matter of seconds.

"I ruined everything," he mumbles, attempting to blink away the wetness clouding his vision. It doesn't work, and the first tear makes a pitiful trail down cheek, tugging on your heart as it goes.

"What?" You register his words, mirroring his frown. "Baby, you did nothing wrong."

Yunho stands up straight, running a hand through his damp hair as he begins to ramble, "Tonight was supposed to be perfect for you. Hyung helped me plan everything and it all seemed so nice but then absolutely everything that could've went wrong did and then I made you trip and - and I just want marry you but now you're hurt because of me and I-"

"Yun," you cut him off with a careful hand on his shoulder. "You want to marry me?"

Yunho freezes, his brain catching up to his mouth and he groans, "I really did ruin everything."

You sigh, lifting your hands back up to hold Yunho's shoulders firmly in place.

"Ask me," you simply say.

Yunho sputters for a moment, searching your expression for any hint of upset or disappointment. He doesn't know how to feel that he finds none, only the slight quirk at the end of your lips, pushing an all knowing grin.

"What?" He asks, the fresh tear tracks on his cheeks causing a painful twist in your chest. You reach up to gently dab the wetness away, directing him a warm smile.

"Do you have the ring on you?" You ask instead.

Stunned, Yunho scrambles to pat down his pockets. The one thing that hadn't gone completely wrong all night - he didn't forget the ring. He pulls the velvet black box out of his back pocket. He holds it in his hand, staring blankly at you.

"Well?" You probe, crossing your arms over your chest. "Are you going to ask me?"

Yunho blinks dumbly as he comes to understand. He feels himself wanting to cry again for an entirely different reason. Biting back his own grin, he lowers himself to one knee - not an easy feat given your compact apartment bathroom. His back foot hits the wall and he's nearly in your lap by the end of it, but you're both too giddy to care.

"My love," he starts, feeling unsure. "Tonight did not go how I envisioned. At all. But it did reaffirm everything I already knew. I've always known, and right now I believe. In us and our future, more than anything. Will you-"

"Yes," you cut him off, unable to wait another second. "Yes, Yunho, God, yes."

You throw your arms around his neck, laughing and shaking and feeling the happiest you've ever felt. Yunho laughs as well, encircling his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss against your bare shoulder.

"Can you let me finish?" He teases easily, feeling a thousand times lighter and happier himself. You nod against his shoulder and huff a laugh of your own.

"Right, sorry," you pull back with a sniffle, wiping under your wet eyes. "Please continue."

Yunho laughs, his eyes filling with tears of joy as he opens the box back between you, "Will you marry me?"

A swarm of butterflies erupt inside of you, a feeling you haven't stopped experiencing since meeting Yunho all those years ago, and you nods hurriedly, "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you, Yunho."

His face nearly splits in two with the grin that takes over his features. He wastes no time pulling the ring from the box and slipping it onto your finger, heart warming at the perfect fit.

It's beautiful, practically glimmering under your overhead bathroom lighting, but all you want right now is to be in Yunho's arms once more.

So you toss yourself back into his embrace, holding on like your life and mind and heart depends on it. He clutches onto you just as tightly, pressing kiss after kiss into your still damp hair.

Yunho needs to finish cleaning your knee. He also wants to make you take a shower and strip of your wet clothes before a cold really sets in and so he can proper bandage the wound after. But for now, this is all he wants. To be holding the love of his life and now fiancée at the end of a long day that, despite everything, had turned out even more perfect than he could've ever imagined.

Yunho knew he could look forward to even more bad days, so long as he always had you to come home to at the end of it all.

#whimsyworks #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #jeong yunho x you #jeong yunho x reader #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #yunho reactions #yunho imagines #yunho x you #yunho scenarios

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, birth control discussion, dirty talk, making out, lots of touching

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Part Sixteen of Ink & Needle

You and Simon explore Edinburgh before heading to Johnny’s family farm in the Highlands. At the secluded cottage on property, you and Simon finally have the chance to be truly alone.

Chapter Fifteen

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Green grass. Fall rain. Endless gray sky.

Funny how the simple things, the things you don’t expect, can bring you joy. They ground you in a singular moment, capturing the present like a snapshot. Simon’s head is quickly filling with these pictures. They are consuming. Perfect. A calmness that he often feels just before the first sip of tea.

It took twenty minutes—and all of Simon’s willpower—to pull himself from your arms and out of bed this morning. He would have stayed but this is so much better. This is freeing. A complete separation from the stresses of his life. Since waking, Simon hasn’t thought about a single fucking worry all day.

No 141 Ink. No British Intelligence. No Kit Walsh.

Nothing.

Simon even forgot to care that he didn’t pack or wear a balaclava for this trip.

There has only been you.

You—who is the bright light in the dark that is his life.

It’s raining in Edinburgh, but that doesn’t appear to dampen your mood one bit. If anything, it makes you wilder, and Simon loves watching your intense satisfaction in everything you see around you. Right now, you stand in the middle of a cobblestone street, staring up into the cloudy sky, smiling at the soft rain as it lands on your face.

Simon is on the pavement, grinning like an idiot as you make your way back to him. Before you reach him, Simon presents his hand. You take it without question, the two of you effortlessly coming together.

It is natural. It is instinct.

The connection between his actions and his brain are so seamless, Simon doesn’t realize what he’s doing until after it has already happened. Each movement flows into the next, and it keeps the worries at a distance.

You are right in front of him. You are here and whole and all his.

Nothing compares.

With the rain, Simon sticks to indoor activities. The two of you linger in little trinket shops and old bookstores, explore winding streets, and watch the rain from café windows. You are curious, and this curiosity forces Simon to see the world around him differently. Simon always stops in Edinburgh when he visits Johnny’s family farm, but it’s just another stop to him. Nothing more.

At this point, it is routine, but watching you explore the city with new eyes gives Simon pause. It tells him to slow down, to consider that he can enjoy what’s before him as it is. Because watching you is shifting something inside of him. Not like a knife to the gut that twists and turns, but a healing with thread and needle and a tenderness that he can’t place but feels in his marrow.

When the rain stops and the clouds clear out, you and Simon stop for a sandwich before trekking up Calton Hill. Simon has seen this view hundreds of times. He stays back, allowing you to take it all in. There are other people up here—mostly tourists—but unlike them, you do not pull out your phone to snap photos. You simply admire, and inhale deeply, just living in the moment.

Simon does not interrupt. He does something he hasn’t done in ages.

From his coat pocket, Simon removes a small sketch pad and pencil. Finding a comfortable spot in the wet grass, he starts to sketch, allowing the graphite to lead. Simon sketches, simply existing, until you turn your back to Edinburgh and extend your arm to him, fingers wiggling in invitation.

Simon is the one that moves, taking your hand instead of you taking his. Again, like all the other times today, you step into his space, molding to him as if you’ve always belonged there. Bending down, Simon brushes his lips against the crown of your head before departing.

The drive to Johnny’s family farm up in the Highlands is peaceful. You sleep most of the way, and Simon doesn’t wake you until he pulls into the drive. He parks off to the side next to the tarp-covered quad and shuts off the car. Simon promised Johnny he’d check on the place before heading out to the cottage at the edge of the property.

Simon gently places his hand on your shoulders and squeezes. “We’re here.”

You stir, eyelids blinking slowly before opening fully. Sitting up, you yawn and glance around, realization dawning. “This the place?”

“Cottage is elsewhere. Stopping here first. Promised Johnny I’d look in on the place.”

“You mentioned no one would be here.” You have the passenger door open before Simon can hop out and open it for you. He comes around the front of the vehicle as you shut the car door. “Are we checking on the animals?” you ask, hopefulness in your tone.

Simon chuckles. “Absolutely not. Think I know how?”

“No,” you reply automatically, laughing. Your grin is infectious, and Simon cannot help but match it.

“You have so little faith in me?” he teases, placing one hand above the passenger window, creating a barrier between you and the house.

Simon leans in and grins when he receives the reaction he wants. You’re flustered and sweet, your gaze darting from his face to his chest in embarrassment.

“Never,” you murmur, lips parting slightly.

Your pupils widen and Simon has to swallow down a growl. Just a few more minutes, and the two of you will be where you need to.

Simon pushes off from the car and nods toward the house, walking backward. You follow, clearly eager. The main house is single-level, rectangular, and made of gray stone. The cottage is similar but boxy, housing a single room instead of several.

Approaching the front door, Simon begins lifting the edges of rocks that make up the flower bed with the toe of his boot. Usually someone is always here when Simon comes for a visit and all that’s required is just a knock on the door. But whenever the farm sits empty, a key is placed under a rock, and it is a hunt in finding where it is. The key is never in the same place twice and Johnny always forgets to remind Simon where it might be located.

A flash of metal catches Simon’s attention. He overturns the rock and bends down, snagging the key, jostling the rock back into place with his boot. Simon slides the key into the lock, and the door gives. Simon enters and you follow on his heels.

Simon loves this house. It’s cozy and comfortable. A true home. He’s spent many Christmases here, sleeping on the lumpy sofa and stuffing his face at the large wooden dining table. Hesitantly, you step forward as Simon tosses the key on the kitchen counter.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you ask, turning in Simon’s direction.

Simon shakes his head. “Just checking that windows are locked. I’ll walk the exterior after.”

You nod, slipping your hands into your coat pockets, strolling further into the house. Simon starts in the interior room before moving on to the bedrooms and bathroom. Everything is secure. Nothing is out of place, but the lock in the main bedroom is loose.

“Simon,” you call out. He tenses slightly at your raised voice but you don’t sound nervous or afraid.

Cautiously, he reenters the main room. You’re standing in front of the fridge. When Simon appears, you glance at him, the corners of your mouth turning upward into a bemused expression.

“What is it?” he asks, suddenly apprehensive.

Your head slowly swivels back to the fridge and that is when he notices a small piece of paper attached to it by a magnet.

“Simon,” you begin, reading from the paper. “I’ve stocked the fridge with all your favorites. Harold is taking care of the animals. Heard you’re bringing a lady friend. Hope you bring her at Christmas.” You turn back to Simon, one eyebrow arched in question.

Bloody hell.

The next time Simon sees Johnny, he’s strangling him.

“It also says to strip the bed before we leave if we—” you glance back at the note, “make a mess.”

Johnny, you’re a dead man.

Simon nearly chokes at that last bit. “It doesn’t say that,” he grumbles, striding forward to snatch the note off the fridge. Simon turns the paper over, revealing a familiar sprawling cursive. That is Johnny’s mother’s handwriting. He reads over it and then crosses his arms over his chest, staring you down.

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth as you giggle uncontrollably.

“You’re fucking done,” he says, pointing in your direction before folding the paper and stuffing it into his pocket. Simon tries to keep a serious demeanor but utterly fails. He’s grinning too as he rummages around for the toolbox under the sink.

After fixing the lock, Simon takes a lap around the perimeter of the house. Finding nothing, the two of you return to the car and head out to the cottage. It isn’t far and the dirt road that leads to it borders the pastures.

The cottage is a near replica of the main house. It too is made of stone with a small flower bed out front.

“Is this where we’re staying?” you ask as Simon opens the boot and removes the bags.

“You like it?”

“It’s lovely, Simon.” Your gaze softens. “Thank you.”

His heart stops and then melts, becoming liquid in his chest. “We both needed a break.”

You nod. “We did.” Your glance at the bags hanging off his shoulder. “I can take mine.”

“Absolutely not,” he says, pushing right past you and to the door.

You are not lifting a finger this entire trip. Simon won’t allow it. If you need anything, he will provide it.

Simon has the key in the door before you can form a protest. You’re grumbling behind him, but Simon ignores you, pushing open the door and stepping inside. Slowly, Simon slips the bags off his shoulder and places them at his feet.

Like the main house, the cottage is old. It’s seen two world wars, rebellions, and invasions. While the exterior hasn’t changed much, the interior has been updated to accommodate modern amenities. It consists of one large room and a small bathroom. Across from the entry door, on the other side of the room, is the hearth. It is the focal point of the room, and other than some general upkeep, it hasn’t changed since it was first built. Simon could comfortably crouch inside it and still have room to move.

Simon can build a fire in it, but he cannot fucking cook with it. Johnny’s mother certainly passed on her knowledge but it never stuck. Thankfully, there’s an actual fucking oven. The kitchen area itself is relatively small with limited counter space and a small fridge. Next to that is a tiny breakfast table that segways into a little sitting area with an armchair and sofa that seats two.

Directly inside the door to Simon’s left is the bathroom, and to his right is the bed. Its wood frame is weathered but sturdy.

“This is where we’re staying?” you ask softly, as if you don’t believe it to be true.

“Until Wednesday,” answers Simon, suddenly nervous.

Do you like it? Is it enough?

Simon cannot see your face. You’re turned away from him, walking further into the room. He stands awkwardly near the door, and the only thing in his head is how much he desires your approval. This trip isn’t much, but it’s something.

When you remove your coat and shiver, Simon’s response is immediate. “I’ll start the fire.” Grabbing the wool blanket off the bed, Simon unfolds it and holds it at your shoulders for you to accept.

This time, Simon finally sees your face, and the softness in your features dissolves any doubts. You are happy, and when your gaze meets his, Simon is momentarily lost, delving into your endlessness.

And yet again, Simon’s movements do not register until he is already reaching for you.

He drapes the wool blanket over your shoulders and then wraps you up in it, pulling you against his chest as he does so. Simon does not ask. He does not hesitate. There is no trepidation when he claims your lips. All Simon knows is that he wants this, wants you, and you are here with him.

No one can take you from him.

You open, and Simon advances. The second your taste finds his tongue Simon knows that he’ll slaughter anything and anyone who attempts to steal you away.

They will only know the shape of his fists.

They will only know the flavor of lead.

Suffering will be their sleep and their memory upon waking.

You are too good—too fucking sweet for Simon—and yet he’s never giving you up. Will never drop the addiction. If you leave, Simon can only follow.

The kiss deepens, your fingers finding the back of his neck. You’re smaller than him but you still try to show a bit of force. It’s cute how you’re pulling on him, telling Simon you crave more. Eagerness is pumping in your blood, and Simon is ready to explore that need. To understand and match it with his own.

He wants to fill his lungs with it.

Breathe you in so deep you’ll leave scars.

While Simon would love nothing more than to remove everything beneath the blanket, he needs to warm this place up and put some food in your belly.

Reluctantly, and with harrowing effort, Simon pries your fingers away from his neck. You whimper in response, and that sound goes straight to his dick. The sudden rush of blood is what snaps Simon out of his haze. When he draws back and notices your puffy, pouty lips and blown pupils, Simon nearly submits all over again.

But even that is not enough to completely shatter him.

“You’re distracting me,” he mumbles.

Your smile is gentle. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

Simon reaches up and runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. “Curl up on the sofa. I need to grab wood.”

“Let me help,” you say, tugging on his jacket.

“Rest. I’ve got this.”

Your palm goes flat against his chest before dropping away. It leaves a lingering warmth behind. Backing up, you plop onto the couch, bending forward to remove your shoes. Simon turns away quickly, running his fingers through his hair as if that will calm his racing heart.

He retrieves wood from the pile on the south side of the house, stacking it all next to the hearth. Removing the correct tools, Simon sets to work. It won’t take much to warm the room, and Simon gives just enough life to the fire to take care of other tasks. Given the right conditions, the fire will do what it needs to on its own.

Opening the fridge, Simon snorts. Johnny’s mother truly did stock it. She not only prepped for dinner but left plenty for breakfast, lunch, and afternoon tea. Amongst all that are various snacks.

We won’t need to leave at all.

That is what Simon ultimately wanted, and it’s exactly what he’s receiving.

Simon begins heating the small oven and selects one of the prepared meals from the fridge. Johnny’s mother even left a couple bottles of wine and a small bottle of scotch on the counter. While Simon loves a strong drink, he prefers Kentucky bourbon, but he won’t turn down what’s freely offered.

By the time the two of you finish a bottle of wine and dinner, it’s dark out. Simon shutters the windows, cleaning up the cutlery and wine glasses before joining you on the sofa. The old thing sags under his weight but it’s comfortable, and you lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his arm.

Simon doesn’t feel anything but contentment. He’s like white linen hanging on a clothesline under the summer sun. No cares. No worries. There is nothing but you and him and this cottage for the next few days.

Shifting in his arms, you look up at him, your chin slightly digging into his shoulder. Simon glances down at you, and without hesitation, places his large palm against the side of your throat, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

“Ready for bed, love?” Simon means sleep, but that idea utterly vacates his brain when you swing your leg over his thighs. Still keeping his hand on your throat, you move from his right side to his lap. The wool blanket is still around your shoulders, and it falls open slightly as you raise both hands to rest against his chest.

“Simon.” His name on your tongue is honey-thick. “You know what I want.”

“I know,” he says, because it’s what he wants too.

Two months. Two months since he first saw you standing in the doorway of 141 Ink. He thought you a phantom, an illusion of the mind that happens to him sometimes. But you were real that day. You were real and fate brought you to him.

Simon has waited three fucking years for you.

And he’s going to make up for every missed second.

His hand drops from your neck only to settle on your hips. Simon squeezes, filling his grip with you, imagining when there will no longer be a barrier between his skin and yours. It’s what he’s been thinking of, what he’s been wanting, but that’s not the whole picture.

You are more than what you can offer him physically, and while that is the final piece, it’s not everything. Simon adores your kisses and kind smiles. He loves your silly jokes, and the sense of peace that comes with your presence. The instinct to protect and possess is a constant thing. It sits in the back of his head and between his rib bones.

A model relationship isn’t something Simon knows. He grew up with violence and made a career of it. Every person Simon has ever engaged with on an intimate level have always been quick and efficient affairs. Simple need fulfillment. Nothing more.

But this? With you?

It’s so much more. It goes beyond the bounds of reason. It is suffocating as much as it is lifegiving. There is no doubt in Simon’s mind about how he feels, only beautiful truth.

Your hands venture away from his chest. One comes to a rest in the muscled dip where his neck and shoulder meet. The other is low, nearly in his lap, toying with the end of his shirt like you want to delve underneath but aren’t sure if you should.

“Do you want me?” you ask, and Simon hears the gentle break.

Do you truly think he’ll reject you?

“Always,” he answers. “Constantly.”

Simon’s hands slide up to your waist, holding tight, drawing you closer. Your head tilts in invitation and Simon matches your movement. The connection is electric and yet completely comforting. This feeling is a tangled web of warmth and anticipation. It courses through Simon’s veins until it buzzes in the tips of his fingers.

Again and again, Simon is lost in you. The craving is unending. You press in, roll your hips, and Simon snaps. Breaking the kiss, Simon grasps the nape of your neck. The gasp you release upon separation heats his blood.

“We need to talk first,” he says.

You whimper and try to return to him, but Simon’s grip is firm. He doesn’t want to deny you this but the two of you need to discuss protection before anything continues.

“Listen to me, love,” coos Simon. Your gaze goes from his lips to his eyes. “If we’re doing this, I want no barriers.”

The middle of your brow creases in confusion. “You have me, Simon. Completely.”

Simon shakes his head. His left hand falls away from your waist and slides over the curve of your ass, dipping between your spread thighs. Pausing, Simon cups your pussy and your eyelids flutter with pleasure.

“No barriers,” he repeats, pressing slightly until you make a sound in your throat that shoots a bolt of need to his dick. “That’s what I want.” Your gaze darts over his face, but you don’t say anything.

The silence is excruciating, and he needs an answer. “Do you want that?” he asks, even as the uncertainty of your answer bites at his resolve.

If you say no, it’s not a big fucking deal. Simon packed an entire box of condoms for this very reason. Whatever you decide, he’ll respect it, but he just needs to know. Because whatever you tell him, the two of you will need to make a plan moving forward.

Simon will fuck you bare. He wants you dripping with him. To see it between your legs and know that you belong to him.

“Simon.”

“Tell me.”

“Yes.”

Fucking hell.

“Yes, what?” he prompts.

“I want you,” you breathe. “No barriers.”

Simon removes his hand from between your thighs. “Are you sure, love? Don’t say yes just for me.” His fingers tighten slightly on your neck, and your eyelids flutter in response. “Not looking to put a baby in you.”

Not yet.

The unspoken words hang in front of his eyes, and Simon freezes.

Fuck.

Not yet. Not. Yet. Why the fuck did he think that? Why is his head even considering that as an option?

Because it’s true, even if Simon has only given the idea a few seconds of consideration. When Amelia showed Simon the photo of you holding Lillian, he couldn’t help himself. He imagined the small infant as yours. The one he’d have with you. Wanting a child is not something Simon has ever entertained, but then again, he didn’t have you in his life.

Pieces of him—pieces that were nothing more than scattered fractures—are beginning to reform. They’re finding each other, fusing, collectively forming the image that is Simon.

It is happening.

Slowly. But happening.

He is finding himself in the void.

“Is that something you want?

 Your question pulls Simon right out of his silent musings. He considers his next words carefully.

“It’s on the table.” Because it is, but only if you want it. “In the future,” he amends, making it clear that is not what he wants at this particular moment.

Even if he did where would the infant go in his flat? There isn’t any fucking room.

You simply nod and say nothing. Simon senses an unease radiating off you but he’s not entirely sure why and it’s unclear if he should push the topic.

“You on birth control?” he asks, deciding it’s better to receive verbal confirmation.

“I am,” you reply.

Simon sighs audibly and squeezes your thighs. “Good.”

You smile coyly. “You’re very sweaty all of a sudden, Simon. Are you nervous?”

Simon swallows and his salvia sticks in his throat. He coughs, almost chokes. “What?”

“Your cheeks are flushed.” The backs of your knuckles graze the line of his jaw. “Haven’t seen that before,” you murmur, almost as if you’re speaking to yourself and not to him.

“Come here,” growls Simon, pulling you in for a kiss to cover up whatever has caught your attention.

You giggle, playfully swatting at him, only to soften with each lingering kiss. Your muscles relax, and you melt into him, lengthening and deepening each meeting until you’re pliant in his arms again.

This is how it should be.

You become absorbed in him, and Simon revels in it. All this time, all these years, Simon believed his need for you was entirely one-sided. But with you in his lap, and your hunger flaring hot, Simon understands that you just as desperate.

Squirming, you tug on the front of Simon’s shirt as if you can pull him closer. “I want you inside me, Simon.”

You say these words against his lips, branding his flesh with your desire. Sweet victory roars beneath his skin like an animal. Simon is going to fuck you senseless. Take you over and on every possible surface.

“How, love?” he replies. “Use your words.”

When you answer, it is with shaky breath. “No barrier. Want you. Only you, Simon.”

Using just his hold on your neck, Simon draws you back to him. The kiss is chaste, more of a whisper against skin. “Can I come inside you?” Simon flexes his hips upward, rubbing his growing need against your covered pussy.

Your own hips answer back, arching into his touch as you beg. “Please.”

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs as he gives you what you need.

Why are these kisses so much sweeter? So much more addictive?

Simon craves another the moment the last one is done, as if the second they stop he’ll lose them forever. This desperation makes a home in his stomach, filling him with a smoldering demand to completely possess every part of you. Like a feral beast, Simon awakens, seeking his meal.

Without losing his hold on the nape of your neck, Simon removes the wool blanket from around your shoulders. He discards it to the side, not caring where it lands. Returning to your mouth, Simon seeks and tastes until everything within him shatters.

He is made of splintered bones, and you are the adhesive glue that will fuse him back together. To achieve that, Simon needs renewal, a blessing of your flesh.

Your top and bra are only simple obstacles. They surrender to him easily, and neither of you gives either item a second thought. It is meaningless now.

There is only bare skin against bare skin.

Simon’s palm explores, running up and down your stomach to the valley between your breasts. Everything is touched. Everything is savored until his blood roars in his ears.

Groaning, Simon forces himself to release that lovely mouth. He aches until he finds you again. Simon’s head dips, lips brushing against your throat. The kisses he leaves along the line of your neck are simple things that slowly shift and ebb, transforming into playful nips that turn to claiming bites.

Your fingers find his hair, threading and tangling, pulling slightly until Simon growls. The hold you have on him is pleasurable as much as it borders on pain. He moves lower, and it’s an odd fucking angle, but Simon doesn’t give a shit. Every inch of you deserves his mouth. When his lips skim just above your right breast, you instinctually lean back, giving Simon better access.

Simon runs his tongue over and around your nipple. You shiver in his arms, fingers lightly digging into his scalp as he teases it to a hard peak. Once stiff, Simon switches to the other, giving it just as much attention.

But it is not enough.

Sliding his hands to the backs of your thighs, Simon lifts you up as he stands. Your arms immediately lock around his neck as your ankles cross behind his back. The fact that he doesn’t need to instruct you in this pleases him.

Simon travels from the couch to the bed, and this one action reminds him of Riot Room when he lifted you in the air and bounced you on his cock. He was observing the expressions on your face as you watched him enter and exit your body. Witnessing that was fucking bliss.

He’ll do that again. But not yet.

At the edge of the bed, Simon eases you down onto the comforter. While your legs come to the bed, your hands take longer to retreat. Your fingers linger, nails lightly dragging across the back of his neck and then down the front of his chest.

Simon lets you have this.

But once you completely fall back onto the bed, Simon’s resolve is absolute.

He doesn’t demand or ask.

Like your top and bra, Simon simply grabs and tugs until you’re in nothing but your underwear. His fingers trace up your bare legs, stopping at your thighs momentarily before his hands drop away.

You’re fucking beautiful like this. A banquet. A feast he’s about to gorge himself on.

Leaning back on your forearms, your bare chest is completely exposed, breasts pushed forward in his direction. Your nipples are still hard and raw from his mouth, and Simon has to bite back a groan at the sight.

There is plenty of time to enjoy all of you. Simon needs to get a fucking hold on himself before he pushes your legs wide and buries himself without a thought for you. His blood is electrified, buzzing until it bounces around in frenzy, attempting to convince Simon to claim you until there is no doubt who it is you belong to.

He needs to slow the fuck down. Wednesday is the day the two of you return to civilization, and neither of you are leaving this cottage until then. There is only him and you and this bed.

Slowly, Simon returns his hands to your legs. He begins at your ankles, roaming up your shins and then your knees, sliding down your thighs to stop at the band of your underwear. He considers them a moment and then roughly fists the fabric. In two quick tugs, Simon has them down and around your ankles.

“You don’t need these,” he says, tugging one last time and tossing them aside.

Much better.

Your lips part and your thighs quiver. Simon’s mouth salivates from that alone. All this time, and you crave him just as much. Pride swells in his chest with the knowledge that you want to be here, and that you want this with him.

“What about you?” you ask, nodding toward Simon.

Here you are, naked and on your back, and Simon hasn’t taken off a single fucking thing. His mind was too focused on stripping you down than thinking of himself.

To answer your question, Simon reaches behind him with one hand, grabbing the collar of his shirt. Yanking it up over his head, Simon tosses the shirt to the side, leaving him in only his jeans and black socks.

“Better?” he asks, extending his hands outward slightly.

You nod, pink tongue darting out just before you nibble on your bottom lip.

Simon draws his hands back to his sides, turning them into clenched fists as a small tremor hits him causing his hands to shake. He’s worked up, and his cock fucking aches, but no matter how much he’d love to spread you wide to pound into you, your pleasure is just as important.

You’re not taking anything until you’re prepped and ready for it.

“Spread those gorgeous thighs for me,” he commands through clenched teeth. Simon watches as you part them slightly, but it isn’t nearly enough. You’re still hidden from him.

“More,” demands Simon, desperately needing to see that sweet pussy.

Again, you part your legs further, feet sliding across the bedding, but it’s still short of what Simon is after. He needs to wide. Completely open.

“No. Like this.” Simon slides his hands between and forces your thighs apart until he can see fucking everything.

The sight of you steals the oxygen from his lungs.

You are glossy. Slick. Wanton.

Fucking hell.

Simon is going to devour you.

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[marlynnofmany]

Paws in a Circle

There’s a poster I saw once, back on Earth, that had a silhouette of a bear with deer antlers, and it was labeled “Beer.” I had forgotten about it completely until I met our newest client, who by that logic was definitely a beer.

I’d already done my part of the interaction by carrying out one of the heavier boxes, so while the captain went over the delivery fees with her, I was free to stare politely and decide which other Earth animals she resembled. (Fur coloring more like a red fox, and semi-upright posture that was less bear and more extinct giant ground sloth.)

I was so focused on watching the client handle the datapad with her giant paws that I completely missed it when the hovercar behind her sprung a fuel leak.

Paint saw it, though. “Oh! Your car!” she yelped, pointing. “I’ll get Mimi!” She was off in a flash of orange scales, back into the ship in search of our mechanic.

The client growled a swear word that didn’t translate, shoved the datapad back at Captain Sunlight, then galloped over to her car. While I expected her to throw open the hood in search of the part that was leaking, she instead made a beeline for the back seat.

When she threw open that door, I saw why.

“Kids! Out of the car! It’s not safe!”

A half dozen bundles of spotted yellow fur tumbled out, making distressed noises that didn’t need translating. They had tiny little antler buds and very big eyes.

Captain Sunlight was busy talking to someone through her communicator, probably Mimi. I stood there uselessly by the packages. What did I know about fuel leaks? Nothing helpful. I knew the puddle was growing by the second, and was probably flammable, but that was about it. And this backwater spaceport barely had an information booth, much less a local response team.

The client ushered her cubs over to where we stood just as Mimi and Paint returned. Blip and Blop followed with a big toolbox carried between them. Mimi was already taking charge and waving tentacles about, talking to the captain about the lack of reliable repair shops this far in the boonies, telling Blip and Blop how best to use their muscles in opening up the engine, and reassuring the customer that this was fine, actually, that model hovercar had a known issue with the fuel lines.

When the client dithered over minding her cubs and being present for the repairs, Captain Sunlight pointed a scaly yellow hand at me. “Our human can keep your little ones entertained. Bring them over here.”

“Uh,” I said.

Captain Sunlight looked up at me, still talking to the client. “She has extensive experience in tending to small furry creatures.”

I wanted to say that veterinarian training and childcare were two very different things, but I wasn’t about to make the captain look bad. And knowing Mimi, this would be quick.

The client said, “Thank you. Kids, you need to stay over here, okay? Next to these boxes, but don’t touch. Listen to the tall one. I’ll be right there helping fix the car.”

The tiny-voiced replies were recognizable words in the most common trade language, though their pronunciation made me clock them at around three or four years old in human years. They were very cute.

And they were suddenly my responsibility, all looking up at me like spotted teddy bears while the rest of the adults fretted about the car.

The questions were immediate.

“What are you?”

“Where’s your fur?”

“Did you lose it because you ate the wrong thing? Mommy says we have to eat our vi’mins so our fur doesn’t fall out.”

“Is this instead of fur?”

I freed the tiny paws tugging at my pants. “I’m not supposed to have fur. I’m a human. And yes, I wear clothes to keep me warm instead.”

“It looks funny.”

“Do you have to brush it?”

“Do you know any games?”

I brightened at that. “Games! Sure, I know some games.” I wracked my brain for something that would keep them entertained without causing new problems. “What kind of games do you like to play?”

They all answered at once in an avalanche of words, bouncing around in excitement, with a couple grabbing each other’s fur to keep from falling over. I couldn’t make out a thing they were saying. But I had the beginning of an idea.

“Do you like dancing in a circle?” I asked.

They had no idea what I was talking about, and possibly no understanding of basic shapes yet. Three of them spun in place while the others waved their arms.

“First you stand in a circle, like this,” I said, sketching out the shape in midair. “Here. You stand here, then you there…” With some gentle nudging — they were so soft — I soon had them arranged in something like a circle. “Now hold hands with the person next to you.”

I was a little concerned that their paws weren’t suited to this, since they had long blunt claws already and didn’t look very dexterous, but they managed. With lots of giggling and hopping in place.

“Now everybody step to the side, in this direction.” I ushered them into a clockwise rotation, nice and slow (and giggling), with no risk of any little fluffy heads bonking onto the spaceship landing pad. It took them a second, then they got the rhythm without tripping over their own feet.

Then they unanimously spun faster, hopping and laughing with squeals and barks that were probably making more than one adult turn to stare. I don’t know; I kept my eyes on the littles. My arms were out and ready in case somebody stumbled and brought the whole circle crashing down.

But no one did. The half dozen youngsters wheeled and spun, bouncing with glee and showing no sign of stopping.

“That’s new,” rumbled a voice behind me. I tried not to flinch when I looked up at the mama bear. Beer. Whatever. She asked, “Is that an activity from your planet?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Pretty basic, and it seemed good for kids.”

The antlered head nodded. “Looks like valuable practice at coordination, as well as teamwork. There are a few adults I know who could benefit from that.”

Images flashed through my head of huge antlered bear aliens doing ring-around-the-rosie as a corporate teambuilding exercise. And professional athletes trying to improve their footwork. “Yeah, they probably could. And it’s a fun bit of community bonding time.”

Mama Bear nodded. “Okay children, the car is fixed,” she announced. “Time to go home.”

The cubs made the exact same disappointed noises as human kids. Even when their mother waded in and picked them up one by one to urge them towards the car, they didn’t want to stop playing. They grabbed hands in pairs and spun off that way, even faster than before. I did have to catch one fuzzy little teddy toddler, who just laughed about it and hopped around some more.

Peripheral vision told me the rest of the crew was helping move the packages into the hovercar’s storage space and mop up the last of the fuel. Overheard conversation told me that the good captain had tactfully gotten us a bonus payment for the mechanical assistance. I couldn’t tell if childcare was part of that, and I didn’t ask. I just focused on herding the excitable youngsters back to their car, where thankfully they all knew how to get into the safety harnesses without help.

Mama Bear closed the door. “Thank you for everything,” she said, directing that at me as well as Captain Sunlight. “I will recommend your services highly to anyone who asks. And we will probably need more deliveries soon, once we get the new house set up, so perhaps we will see you again!”

Captain Sunlight nodded. “Perhaps so. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

I waved goodbye to the kids, who had found the button to open the window and were just as excitable as ever. “See you later! Maybe next time I can teach you the Hokey Pokey. That’s big on my planet.”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #writeblr #writblr

[marsprincess889]

Me getting political

🇬🇪🇪🇺

So, I know I mostly only really talk about vedic astrology here, but I'd like to speak to the very same audience who found and followed me because of that about what's going on in my country. So, followers, dear mutuals, those couple of ppl I know irl who are on here, or someone who randomly found this_please, read and interact. (!!!please)

For context, the vast majority Georgia, mainly gen z, has been protesting a "foreign agents law", which is almost identical to the law that russia passed in 2012 and that has resulted in significant restriction of the freedom of its citizens. So, eurovision, met gala, whatever.... this is the reality my country lives in.

I had no idea so many people from other countries were this misinformed about georgia(in general)? People thinking photos from our massive protests were not from here because we have "police" written in english and not "policija"(which is not a fcking georgian word??????)?

People thinking america funded, I repeat, MASSIVE protests that have been going on for a month(and have also taken place in the march of last year for the same reason), just because some of the protestors wrote signs in english? Like, the sheer idea of that is honestly infuriating.

I don't think anyone who has not lived in Georgia will understand the situation clearly. The government is ordering to beat up peaceful protestors, is using pepper spray on them.... and most of the protestors are teens and young adults, trying to make a better future for themselves and for generations to come, tired of fighting the same fight that their parents and grandparents have fought.

When you are born georgian, patriotism is instilled in you like vow. I was born in 2002, a decade after my country exited the soviet union, fresh out of the notoriously hard and dark 90s(full of poverty and crime), six years before I started school and russia invaded the city of Gori. We learned all the poems and novels of our great writers, learned the stories of them fighting for freedom of speech, for the freedom of our country, our teachers would explain every detail of their astristry and their importance. At some point I think we all got tired of it, no matter how loving and full of care they were, but then I remember the presentation my class did in sixth grade about february of 1921, how Georgia exited the russian empire in 1918 and how the brand new(at the time) constitution was implemented just a few days before the red army came in 1921... MY PARENTS were born when Georgia was in ussr, my mother had to spend her years as a young student in the 90s in constant fear of danger on the streets, our parents saw the worst of it and did everything in their power for us to live in a better environment. But we're first generation in georgia who grew up with internet, who is fluent in internet slang and is way more informed, with a completely different mentality, for whom the decades of oppression is more distant. We know russia is an enemy, we know what our country has gone through, but we are the first gen with the freedom to speak up when yet another attemp to control is made.

We have a very long and rich history and one thing that is clear from it is that we are supernaturally resilient, and our refusal to be subdued has protected not only ourselves, but countries that lie west from us, the countries that make Europe, that we consider ourselves a part of.

My friends know I'm the quickest to say that I feel like I don't belong here(georgia), that I never really connected to what I saw, generally, in my country, but maybe there are thousands like me here. Maybe(100%) the men in power haven't been paying their due respect to my generation and how persistently we have been in our actions and convictions. And maybe, the rest of the world(western countries) have significantly undervalued our importance. We deserve our due, and to me, the least that others can do, is to educate themselves before typing or speaking about us.

We are not a "former soviet country", we are an ancient civilization with an extremely unique culture that has survived to this day, that has protected its customs, identity and the right for freedom, and has been under almost constant threat for losing them. And, once again, if there was any doubt, we are not our government.

I sincerely hope for this to get as many notes or possible, or at least, to reach the right people.

#vedic astrology #eurovision #astrology #nakshatras #astrology observations #sidereal astrology #astro notes #astrology tumblr #aesthetic #esc #switzerland #finland #tbilisi #georgia #sakarvelo #saqartvelo #russian law #foreign agents law #georgia is europe #photography #doctor who #northern lights #aurora borealis

[yandereunsolved]

Could you please make a headcanon about the Links reactions to the readers' cooking, please? ( part 1 ) ( @sweetlicorice )

yandere Links present: Cal, Four, Hyrule, Legend, Ravio, Sage, Sky, Time, Twilight, Warriors, Wild, Wind

cw(s): yandere themes, mentions of food drugging, self-deprecation

Cal: Cal is astonished for a moment as he takes his first bite. The melody of flavors mixed in his mouth. It's safe to say that he is always giving you possessive glances whenever you make food. He swallows it down so vigorously that you fear he's about to choke. It doesn't matter if you have the cooking abilities of a royal chef or a Bokoblin. He just loves it because you made it.

Which means he's always first in line. He's ever so anxiously bouncing his leg. It's barely noticeable—just a miniscule amount of movement from his rigid body. You are still able to tell. He gets extremely upset if anyone but him gets the first plate. Time allows Cal to always get the first plate, just for the sake of keeping him calm. Time nearly has to tear Wild and Sage off of Cal as they fight for their position in the food line like a bunch of rambunctious children.

Four: Four always makes utensils and various kitchen accessories for you. He gets elated when he sees you using them. He has a smirk on his face; the hours meticulously spent shaping the metal into the correct shape were worth it. That also means he gets to be the first to taste test things.

Both Wild, who helps you cook, and Wind, who sticks near your cooking, are always noticeably upset. Wind will always try to steal the spoon out of Four's hand so he can try it first. However, this has only led to you feeding Four the first bite of whatever it is you have made. Every single Link is outrageously jealous of this. Four just looks up at you with innocent doe eyes and states, 'Mhm'.

He always gives honest feedback about how good the food is. If he is a little harsh, then he'll always make sure to craft you something to make up for it. He doesn't mind his bluntness around the other Links, but he wants to be softer towards you.

Hyrule: Hyrule thinks about drugging your food a lot. When I say a lot, I mean a lot. He enjoys every one of your dishes. He just wants alone time with you. If he put some sleeping potion in your ingredients, then he could have you all to himself. He could even kidnap you if he wanted. 

Besides those thoughts, he's one of the Links who prefers helping you pick and gather ingredients instead of just watching you cook. Wild is naturally skeptical of Hyrule just wanting to 'help' you gather ingredients. It has led to many arguments between the two of them. 

That doesn't stop him from picking berries and mushrooms with you. That doesn't stop him from lighting up when he sees you using the shared variety of fruits you both have gathered. That doesn't stop him from wanting to wipe the small amount of left-over food from your face. He wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you when you cook for them so badly.

Legend: Legend's reaction to your food always gets him in trouble with the others, especially Time. He always has some snarky remarks. He always rolls his eyes and eats it begrudgingly. He couldn't get all soft on you yet! He hates the hurt look in your eyes. It looks like he just kicked a puppy in the stomach. Yet he has to do it. He has to stand out. He can't just be another one of the lover boys trailing at your heels. You have to earn his soft side first. You have to choose him. So until then, he'll continue to act aloof towards your cooking. 

It doesn't change the fact that he's the one who always steals the leftovers before Wind or Sage is able.

Ravio: Ravio pops in and out to try your cooking. He's always bringing you odd ins and outs that may help you cook. Most of them are enchanted, and occasionally a cursed object slips in there. Ravio always ends up getting attacked by the entire group when that happens. It isn't on purpose! He just sees an item that is slightly kitchen-related, and he gets so excited because he wants to give it to you that he forgets to check if it is cursed or not. 

Ravio is the outsider Link, as always. He has a menagerie of skills that outclass multiple Links. Which makes him a greater foe amongst the infighting of Links.

He always gets super giddy when he gets to try something of yours. He always softly inquires if he can take some home. He just wants to feel your food fill him. It'd almost be as good as if he were the one filling you.

Sage: Sage is in the middle of Legend's and Wind's reactions. He does his best to stay calm, but he still ends up clinging near you when you cook. Even if he has to set up camp, he still stays near you. He'll sit on a log and fiddle with something passively, acting as if he isn't staring at you with an all-consuming obsession sparkling in his eyes. If someone asks him to help with something, he doesn't say a word or move. He grunts and just continues to absent-mindedly do whatever he is doing. He may not outright compliment your cooking, but he'll smile towards you a bit and give you a satisfied nod.

Sky: Sky always compliments your cooking. He's always respectful and uses his manners. He may throw a light-hearted sarcastic remark or two in there for good fun. It never has anything to do with your cooking abilities. They are just subtle digs at the others. 

He is confident that he will win your heart in time. He's just happy to be warmed up by your food.

There is a sense of possessiveness toward what you cook. He guards his plate the way Twilight guards you at night. He doesn't want one of the others trying to knock his food on the ground or eat. That's a common occurrence. When you aren't looking, the others may try to steal another Link's dinner just so they can have more and the other Link can have less.

Time: Time makes sure that none of the others are overwhelming you when you are making their meals. He uses Twilight to drag the other Links off if they are making you uncomfortable. His trademark disappointed stare always works very well. 

He always has a very dad-esque reaction to whatever you made. He smiles and either ruffles your hair or pats you on the back. His heart palpitates in that moment. He feels as if he is going to lose you if he lets you out of his sight for a single moment. He desperately wishes for two eyes so he can see you in your full beauty. You'll never have to worry about missing any ingredients for your dish or dishes that you are making.

Daddy Time has got it. He'll go into the deepest depths of the most accursed Hyrules to get the ingredients himself. Fierce, or Malon, is always willing to help them. They may be more obsessed with you than he is, considering they don't get to interact with you as much.

Twilight: Twilight feels his hylian ears twitch whenever he hears you cooking. His body becomes alert to it. His pointed nose was taking in the delicious aroma. His mouth waters to the point where he is almost drooling. He is able to continue doing his assigned task, but he is also thinking about chowing down on the food that you made. 

When eating it, he continuously looks at you. You'd be such a good mate. You can cook and help take care of the ranch. He can cook sometimes and also take care of the ranch. You can pet him and scratch right behind his ears, where he likes it. He doesn't even realize that he looks a bit unsettling as he unblinkingly stares through your soul while casually munching on what you cooked. 

Warriors: Warriors always stays away from you when cooking. So many of the other Links are trying to bother you. He doesn't want to be a pest to you. He doesn't even think he should get too close to you. Your food is like a gift from the heavens. It feels so homely and safe. It reminds him of something he has been deprived of. He doesn't love being in love; he hates it. He doesn't want to eat your food, yet he always cleans his plate and praises you.

H-He's from a non-canon game? He hears from you once, under your breath, while preparing some unfamiliar dish from your place of origin.

He begins to grow anxious internally. Is that a bad thing? Is he a bad protector? If you reassure him enough, then he'll get a little closer and watch you cook. He still prefers to stand guard, though. Only the goddesses know that the other Links are so whipped that they can't see any danger until the danger comes toward you.

Wild: Wild always makes sure to master the recipe you are making on the first try. He begins to panic and self-depreciate. You have to keep him from spiraling quickly. He is incredibly territorial about your cooking time with him. He's ready to pounce on whomever gets too close to the both of you. Even a simple update on camp being set up will have him harshly handling the ingredients, an angered blush spreading across his features. Pray to the golden three for Wind. Wild would definitely have killed the little pest by now if it wasn't for you. Wild just gets so clingy and insecure. He wants all of your attention. That little pretend pirate can go drown in the Great Sea for all he cares, actually, he'd prefer it.

Wind: Wind gets very excitable and also distracted when you are cooking. Whatever he was previously doing has now left his mind. He curiously looks around at the cooking prep you are doing. Wild is right next to you, glaring masterswords at Wind.

He always ignores Wild and just asks you a bunch of questions. He wants to know everything about the dish you are making. Is it from your homeland? Is it a delicacy or a simple meal? Is it hard to make? Can he touch it? Can he touch you? Can you be his? Can he take you away from The Chain and make you his pirate spouse? His thoughts often get away from him. His ADHD brain can't handle the stimulus overload.

#asks #lu chain #linked universe chain #lu #linked universe #reader insert #yandere #yandere chain #yandere lu chain #au reader #poly chain #yandere poly chain #yandere polyamorous chain #poly #polyamourous #yandere poly #yandere polyamorous #yandere au #headcanons #lu headcanons #lu x reader #yandere lu x reader #yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #loz #tloz

[fanaticsnail]

Beautiful

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,400+

Synopsis: Big Mom has found her son, Charlotte Katakuri, a partner she deemed worthy enough for him to court for matrimony. While he is smitten immediately with you, he is determined to make a good impression on you by not revealing his face. Your curiosity gets the better of you.

Warnings: Katakuri x f!reader, talks of husband and wife, use of bride, massaging face, fluff, so fluffy.

Notes: wrote this half-dazed at 6:30am this morning because @gingernut1314 decided she needed the big man in her life and the brain-worm got me. Here he is, the big guy all for you, sweetheart.

Tag List: @feral-artistry @i-am-vita @indydonuts @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Being courted by the Minister of Flour was not something you had ever pictured to be highlighted on your impressive resume. When you first received an invitation from the Charlotte family to venture to Komugi island, this was not an outcome you predicted for yourself. 

Charlotte Katakuri, the second son and third child of Big Mom, was told to find a bride. His orders were received, the date of his nuptials set, and his suit picked out for such an excitable occasion. The only thing that had not been set in stone was the partner joining him at his side after their soft march down the aisle. 

Your family was titled, strong, and one of the only families Big Mom had deemed worthy enough to usher in a new generation of pirates to join in taking the Charlotte name. Katakuri had no choice but to obey his mother, apprehensively accepting the terms of an arranged marriage against his own desires to simply live to protect his siblings, nieces, and nephews. While this was out of his control, what he could control was how his intended bride depicted him. 

He could continue to shield his face from you. His rationale was as such, “If they never view my face, they would never have reason to fear me.” And so he did as such, hiding his face beneath the fur shroud from the moment he met you, and every courtship session soon thereafter. As he laid his eyes on you for the first time, he was immediately smitten. Taken by your appearance alone, and your willingness to sign your name beside his on the registry to set your intentions to wed in stone, he could never be more proud to have a partner such as you. 

As his trust in you began to build, he slowly allowed you into his heart, and shared his burdens with you as Minister of Flour. He confided in you, relishing in your company as he openly courted you under the watchful chaperone of his younger sister, Charlotte Brûlée. 

One such occasion, he laid out a blanket for you and drew out a large wicker basket from behind his back. He presented you with an assortment of baked sweets and pastries with a soft blush dusting his cheeks beneath the fur shroud. While you accepted the treats with gratitude, you instead placed it beside you and knelt on the blanket, tapping your lap and asking him to lay on his back. 

“Tell me about your day, intended. I want to know every detail,” you smiled mischievously up at him. He cautiously stole a look at Brûlée, who emphatically ushered him to do as he was told with flailing hands. 

Lowering himself onto the mat beside you, he awkwardly shifted himself to attempt to do as you asked. Rolling your eyes, you reach your hands up to his shoulder and gently guide his larger form to lay his head in your lap. His entire head was the size of both of your thighs together, but you had no qualms or complaints about it. 

“Come on, I don't bite,” you reassured him with a soft laugh, “Let me hear about your journeys abroad. Tell me anything that you want, you have my complete attention.” He was a giant, but so incredibly gentle and sweet to those he deemed as family. 

Coaxing his head onto your lap, he immediately drew his hand up to his mask and secured it over his lips to keep his mouth and teeth hidden from your sight. You chose to ignore this, drawing your fingers up and settled him atop your thighs as he slowly, quietly spoke about his life to you. 

While Charlotte Katakuri was immediately taken by you in the registry office with your family and his, you were horrified by the sight that was met with you. You had heard stories about some of the Charlotte's being of unusual size and stature, but you had no idea exactly how tall your intended was. His form was almost three times your size, his intimidating appearance did nothing to stifle your nerves. 

Believing to have masked your concerns at the nuptuals well enough to be believable, your nerves all but melted away the moment his soft, soothing voice checked in with you afterwards. Charlotte Katakuri was a sweetheart, a 504cm tall sweetheart with such softness within his hardened exterior. 

Reclining his head on your lap, you rubbed at his plum-colored hair as he spoke about adventures away from Komugi. His hand gestures out in a flurry in front of his chest, pointing to the sky as he speaks so eloquently to you. Although he does not yet trust you enough for you to reveal his face, your curiosity begins to gnaw at the seams. 

You start to lower his inhibitions by massaging his scalp, scruff of his neck and forehead. His hair pricks your skin as your skillful touch chips away at his woes and worries. His voice quietens further as he closes his eyes as your hands firmly press against his forehead. You needed to see your soon to be husband’s face, you desperately craved to know what was going on beneath the furs. 

As he leans into your touch, he seemingly forgets about the shroud over his mouth hiding his sharpened teeth from you. He is in bliss beneath your hands, and he slips away into a world carved by your palms and fingertips. Your hands dip deeper, lower into his cheeks, your digits feeling his muscles relax their tension beneath your fingers. 

Smiling to yourself softly as he gasps at such sweetness befalling from you to him, he parts his lips gently. He arches his head further into your lap, the shroud finally lowering and revealing his sharp teeth and unnaturally widened mouth. His jaw falls slack as his brow becomes relaxed. 

You crave to coo at his vulnerability, truly enjoying empathetically how much he allowed himself to relax into your soft touch. This hardened general, this pirate minister, this older brother to so many siblings in the Charlotte family, was as malleable as rice flour mochi beneath your skilled digits. You took in his appearance, almost relieved at feeling the twin slits up his lips as you looked down at him with nothing but pure adoration. 

You were immediately in love with what you saw, your heart beating heavily against your ribcage as a warm flush rose to your cheeks. You loved him, all of him.

Brushing your hands over his cheeks, you silently and slowly commit his face to memory like reading a marble carving with a simple touch. He is gorgeous, and you remember to tell him so when he snaps out of his tranquility and looks at you with accusing eyes the moment he realized you slipped the shroud over his chin. 

“What are you doing?” he growls quietly, “Why did you do that? I don't want you to fear me-...” A soft gasp flees from your lips as you take him completely in. His lips split up his cheeks in an unnatural slit through symmetrical scars, his sharp fangs extend up on his lower jaw and over his lips. 

Although he feels slightly betrayed at the way you managed to easily reveal his face, his betrayal is eclipsed by shock and awe when he meets your eyes. 

“I-I just…” you trail off, your body cowering away in response to his anger, but your eyes still depict the emotion you so desperately desired to show him, “...-I just wanted to know. I wanted to see.” Charlotte Brûlée watched the interaction with interest, her own shock evident on her face. 

She witnessed the entire interaction with your hands on his face, almost calling out to warn her brother his face was going to be revealed, but quietly hoping you would fall in love with him further. She knew you loved him, knew you wanted to see him, and trusted you enough with her older brother that she knew you would love him more the moment his fangs and scars were brought into the light.

He was expecting fear, disgust, anguish and anger to be met in your curious gaze. But all you held in those calm and half-lidded orbs was pure trust, love, and pure adoration. His shock was adamant as he nervously floated his eyes between your gaze. His thumb and index finger circled around your much smaller hand, hovering it over his cheek as you felt your heart soar at the vulnerability.

“And now that you have?” his whisper came out more like a gasp, his voice breathy and craved to hear you say you weren’t afraid. He needed to know you did not fear his appearance, his wordless prayers spoken within his mind’s eye the longer your gaze soaked in his sight. 

You placed your unoccupied hand on his cheek, leaning in closer to his face and your lips curling into a soft, innocent and intimate smile. Caressing his cheek, you cocked your head to the side and finally uttered a single word he truly did not ever think he would hear. 

“Beautiful.”

#one piece #x reader #charlotte katakuri #katakuri #katakuri x reader #katakuri one piece #op katakuri #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #one piece romance #writing for a beautiful moot

[copperbadge]

Still badgering away at The Chicken Salad War and I did not realize how delighted I was going to be by introducing semi-masc nonbinary Jes Deimos to gallant butch Ylias Lazaar. I don't quite know where their subplot is going to go if anywhere but I feel like it may be somewhere awesome.

"Mr. Lazaar," said a familiar voice, and she turned to see LeFevre at her elbow, looking pleased. "A great success for you, I think." 

"Seems to have gone all right, yeah," she agreed. "I heard you were going to crash."

"Alas, I could not -- I ended up invited," he said, grinning. 

"And you brought guests?"

"Ah, I didn't mean to bring the royal family down on your head so soon," he said, leaning in. "They are terrible gossips; I should have remembered when I told King Theophile that he would likely share the information. Still, His Grace Gerald is pleased you use his oil and His Grace Michaelis enjoyed the matbucha greatly."

"And you? No constructive criticism?" she asked. 

"Not tonight. I have never opened a restaurant myself, but I can understand this is your triumph! And in any case they are small quibbles. I will need to dine here more times before I speak," he replied. Someone tapped him on the arm, and he turned, then nodded at the person standing just behind him -- the one who'd been speaking with the old king a moment before. "Mr. Lazaar, may I present Ser Deimos, who came with His Grace. This is Mr. Lazaar, the chef of the hour. She/her," he added with a smile. 

Ser Deimos looked amused. "They/them," they said, holding out a hand. "We're honored to be able to attend -- I don't think we realized when Gerald told us he was going that it was your soft open." 

"It's my pleasure. Not everyone gets to feed the royal family on their first night," she replied, bowing over their hand. "And you're an ornament to any dining room." 

Deimos looked delighted. "Thank you, that's kind of you to say. If I'd known the food was going to be this good I'd have scared up a party. I have a lot of friends in from out of country at the moment."

"Well, we open reservations tomorrow morning -- but for the royal family, I can set aside a table," Ylias replied. 

"Don't, just yet," Deimos said, looking around. "I'm thinking more of a party. Could we rent the restaurant?"

"The whole restaurant?" Ylias asked, blinking. Simon looked smug. 

"If not, that's fine -- we'll take the offer of a table -- but my son's graduating next week, and we were thinking of a group dinner the night before. Simon here is catering the night of," they added. "It'll be twenty or thirty people, and some of them have been doubtful that Fons-Askaz could live up to New York, foodwise. Yes, I felt the same," they added, catching Ylias's expression. "The only thing Fons-Askaz can't offer that New York can is the pizza, and only because our Eddie hasn't got the time to open a pizza restaurant." 

"I hadn't..." Ylias fumbled slightly. "I'm sorry, we have a catering menu but I hadn't arranged any kind of contract for renting the space. It'd need to be a handshake deal and I couldn't quote a fee off the top of my head."

"Of course, I threw this at you with no warning. Here," they said, reaching into their pocket for a wallet and pulling out a card. "Email or phone is fine. If you can send me a proposal by Sunday, I can make a deposit on Monday. I'm comfortable with an informal deal as long as we have terms written out over email. If you don't feel ready, just let me know -- we'll definitely be back regardless." 

"I'll be in touch," Ylias managed. Deimos gave her a bow and a smile, and retreated to their table.

[Then, later]

As they left Plate & Press, full of good food and possibly slightly tipsy, Jes leaned against Michaelis's arm and said, "Holy shit."

He gave them an amused look. "Yes, the food was very good. Nice space, too. I can't remember the last time I had such a pleasant evening out."

"Well, yeah, but I meant the chef," they said. He glanced at them, frowning.

"The Lazaar fellow?"

"Lady, I think. Uncertain, actually. Butch, possibly. She/her but Simon called her Mr. Lazaar." 

"I noticed her, but I didn't see anything particularly unusual. Why?" 

"I love you to bits but you're hopeless," they said. "You really didn't think she was hot?"

"I don't form opinions about sex appeal, generally," he reminded them. "Present company excepted." 

"Well, she is hot in a very specific way -- like you, actually, sort of masculine and chivalrous -- and she called me an ornament to her dining room. I may have had a little moment." 

He laughed. "Oh dear, am I going to have to fight a chef for your favors?" 

"No, it's just nice to know I still got it." 

He kissed the side of their head, affectionate. "You're an ornament wherever you go, but I'll make a note to remind you of it more often. Seems she's making a stir -- Simon likes her also, I think. Sometime soon we're going to have to kick Gregory and Eddie out of the residence for an evening, and I think I'll recommend that place for dinner. Gregory loves Tunisian food and I think Eddie would find a lot to interest him."

"You just want to spend a whole evening cuddling babies," Jes said. 

"Joan and the twins all require the benefit of my wisdom on a regular basis," he said. There was a wolf-whistle directed at them from somewhere over their heads; some young wag, out on the second-floor balcony of a small hotel, clearly getting an early start on Pride. She waved a pink-and-blue flag in their direction. 

"You can't have him!" Jes called. 

"I was whistling at you!" the girl called back. 

"I'll take him," her friend offered from the chair next to her. 

Michaelis chuckled. "Drink some water, young ladies, or you'll be in no condition for the parade this weekend," he called. 

"Vodka's sixty percent water!" someone on another balcony shouted, and someone else yelled for everyone to keep it down, and the discussion went on without them. 

#shivadhverse

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

" Aemond is homophobic", "Screw Aemond, he is disrespecting his mother"... Really?

As for the first statement: why does literally everything concerning Alicent have to be about her being deeply in not-so-platonic love with Rhaenyra? Nothing Aemond said implied that it is precisely "not-so-platonic" part he disapproves of.

And here we come to the second one.

For one, there is a war going on/about to begin. The lives of their entire family are at stake, at the very least due to Daemon being involved. As far as Aemond is concerned, the latter is either Rhaenyra's faithful dog who kills for her without second thought (just remember Vaemond's murder) or a mad one who can't be controlled. Either way, bad news - and Alicent still chooses to proceed with caution. To which point must the Greens do so? Till there is no one left of them to get in Rhaenyra's way? Alicent is one of my favourite characters in the saga (at this point "was" might be more suitable) but presently "Alicent holds love for our enemy. That makes her a fool" is basically a statement of fact.

As for the emotional side of the situation, just look at it from Aemond's point of view for a second. To cover her own ass and those of her children, Rhaenyra, an adult, in cold blood demanded for Aemond, a child, to be tortured - for telling the truth and right after Rhaenyra's own son maimed him for life. Alicent defended him then - and Aemond was the one who comforted her with words and with actions when the majority of the people in the room gaped at her as if she was a madwoman. He chased after Lucerys thinking not only of his mutilation having gone unpunished - he also never forgot Alicent being humiliated (hence 'a gift for my mother' line"). But when push really comes to shove Alicent, taking into consideration how high the stakes are, basically turns her back on him and his siblings - because she doesn't want her childhood friend (even if we actually count Rhaenyra as Alicent's friend) to be harmed. What about her children? Grandchildren? Her father? If you look at Aemond's face when he is asking Alicent whether she wants them to prevail, there is hurt in his eyes. And who can blame him for being hurt - and mad - when his own mother is not on his side but on the side of the person who harmed them both before? And if this happens after B&C, he is all the more justified in his feelings.

I might get a lot of hate for what I'm about to say but in the grand scheme of things it looks like as the Dance begins show!Alicent does precisely what Viserys did at Driftmark (and for years before and after) - which is disregarding her children's (in Viserys' case "other children's") best interests for Rhaenyra's sake.

P.S. There is also the fact that Aemond is not one of the most forgiving people in the world (just as book!Rhaenyra by the way). But it doesn't mean that his thoughts and feelings should be disregarded just because they happen to clash with his mother's.

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #alicent hightower #hotd season 2

[ariadne-mouse]

Regarding the initial confrontation between Essek and Astrid, the tone of the situation, and what exactly Astrid's stance is right now, I have a couple of thoughts:

Astrid has presumably not joined Ludinus because she is currently hiding in a smut shop. She also presumably hasn't joined the Exandrian Accord because, again, she is currently hiding in a smut shop & the Accord is sending missions after her. Maybe she disagrees with Ludinus but feels she can't safely outright oppose him. We don't know yet! Provided she isn't rooting for Ludinus, it's very possible she could be enlisted to help (I hope this happens btw), but Astrid is first and foremost a survivor and ambitious achiever who has gotten to where she is now by working within the greater system, not against it, even when she disagrees with it. She remained a Volstrucker until Caleb and the M9 turned the tide against Ikithon, and she later took on the role of Archmage that Caleb refused, continuing her original trajectory ("race you to the top!"). She has a great deal of power now and we don't have much information about what she does with it. I am very curious, though, Astrid please tell us your secrets.

"Bren sends his regards" - we don't know if Caleb told Essek to say this, but whether or not he did, I do think it was meant to convey "this is all with Caleb's knowledge and direction", for whatever measure that means to Astrid, most likely "you are safe for the moment". The purpose of this encounter is to have a conversation instead of a fight. And Essek's intent in saying it does seem to be to disarm Astrid, but his presentation puts some layers and edges on it that are likely independent of whatever Caleb might be feeling on his end (other posts have summarized the juicy possible layers well so I won't cover all of that here).

More high level on Essek's angle: even if "Bren sends his regards" was meant to signal to Astrid that she is safe in this encounter, one of the very first things Essek does is declare Astrid as Trent Ikithon's "successor", which Astrid of course disagrees with ("I'm his usurper!") but nevertheless this is an insult and condemnation coming from Essek. The subtext reads to me like "I don't like you or agree with you and you're on thin fucking ice how I see it". Is she safe from physical harm? It seems so, for now. Is she safe from bitchy comments and thinly veiled judgement? Certainly not.

Notably, Astrid tried to bamf out after hearing "Bren sends his regards", so the mention of him or what that message would mean coming from Caleb is not enough to get her to play ball by itself. This is perfectly reasonable to be honest; shit's all fucked up now and Essek basically cornered her with a squad of unfamiliar adventurers. But her skittishness despite the "friendly" signal implies a great deal of tension in her position, and Essek's behavior shows tension on his part as well, separate from whatever Caleb might be feeling offscreen and the purpose of this little mission for the Accord. I am very eager to hear the conversation that comes next!

#this post will become stale literally tomorrow but hey #today's today #Caleb is currently Sir Not Appearing In this Film so we can't dive into his view on Astrid #i would guess it's “very complicated friends” considering their past as volstrucker and lovers and her current role in the Assembly #which is very opposite to Caleb's stance of “I want to take down the Assembly actually that's why i didn't take the job” #but anyway i hope they bring Astrid along so Matt can argue and snipe at himself it would be very funny #cr spoilers #c3e94 #astrid #essek thelyss #op #critical role

[thealexandriaarchives]

If you're one of the people who haven't read the Dune novels or haven't read them since the Villeneuve adaptation brainrot set in, just a couple friendly reminders I haven't seen yet!

The scar on Gurney Halleck's face is from an Inkvine Whip, the same type used by (and possibly the same one as) Glossu Rabban when he was a slave on Giedi Prime.

Despite this killer backstory we don't get Gurney vs. Rabban in the book! Rabban dies offscreen in the battle and both we and Gurney are denied catharsis. Frank loves that.

But almost Not! Because you see, Muad'Dib was in full 'IDGAF about War Crimes' mode at the end of the book, and he'd promised his boy a present of equal or lesser value with the same name. Wrote him a little coupon. 'One Harkonnen to Kill in a Brutal and Humiliating Fashion, exchange for one Nuclear Warhead'

Which leads us to the final scene, where it turns out the only Harkonnen left alive is Feyd-Rautha and Gurney is really eager to remind Paul of what their deal was.

But as we know, Paul is the Duke, the Boy-Messiah, The Emperor to be, and he can absolutely take backsies on promised Good-Boy Points atrocities.

I'm not going to get into all the ways Feyd-Rautha is differently portrayed in the book and movies, but in what is either a 'cowardly move' or the Harkonnen thought process of' 'oh hell no this guy has a serious grudge against my family, I just got free of my uncle for 20 seconds, now I'm about to spend my whole Barony getting tortured-raped to death that ain't how I wanna go out', Feyd-Rautha invokes the ancient vendetta between the Atredies & Harkonnen clans that the Harkonnens put forward a claim to call off (in bad faith but on the record) while Leto on the Record sent back a reply saying 'suck my balls you snakes it's been 10,000 years, it's on sight', which means Paul has to fight him instead in 1:1 combat.

Of course in the Villeneuve adaptation there are many many minor and larger changes that alter Feyd's character for the better, but removing a lot of his more explicit sexual abuse and manipulative pleasing behaviors to survive means we lose a lot of his internal dialogue and his best actions. He is no longer the one to have the slave not be drugged at the fight, he doesn't get to try to kill his uncle with a harem boy that looks just like Paul Atredies and have it backfire miserably. But he does get to stand up and announce himself as the Emperor's champion when he doesn't need to, simply because he wants to and he has things to gain.

It may, with the rewrites, be the only time this version of Feyd-Rautha gets to make a meaningful choice about his destiny.

Plus, Gurney got to kill Rabban, so everyone got something!

#Villeneuve really does love these characters #he wants the best for them but they're all in competition #duneposting #dune meta #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #gurney halleck #Feyd-Rautha #dune 2 #dune #dune part 2 #dune part two