#get in touch with language interpreters.

[sysig]

Can’t deny, that is definitely a Princess (P1 | P2 | P3) (Patreon)

[lilacxquartz]

love you, love you, love you;

mr. crawling x reader

plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k

a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.

masterlist • ao3

Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.

Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.

And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.

Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).

So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.

You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.

Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.

You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.

You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…

That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.

That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.

So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.

You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.

The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.

Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.

Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.

It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.

Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.

Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more strained and less controlled.

“Close, close, close,” he repeated.

It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.

Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).

Words were never the problem, it seemed.

Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.

[astrolook]

💗Venus in the 12 Houses - Love, Marriage, Desires, and Red Flags Revealed💗

Note: These are all my personal observations and patterns I've noticed over the years. Take what resonates with you more and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments if it hits home!

There are general interpretations. The signs on the house can make things different. Look at your Western chart!

Venus in 1st - crushes hit hard and fast, fantasizes off the smallest detail, addicted to being wanted, loves touch and attention, needs compliments to feel alive, sex is passionate and ego-driven, mirror sex, teasing, being watched, dominant but gets turned on by someone who takes control, wants it rough but romantic, flirty even when not trying, love language is touch and constant attention, gets bored if it’s too quiet or routine, chases chaos, confuses lust with love, pulls away when not admired, overthinks if not being noticed, takes care of themselves by dressing hot, posting selfies, shopping, changing their hair or look, hides sadness by turning up the charm, isolates when it really gets bad, won’t admit they’re spiraling, still needs to feel wanted even when numb.

Venus in 2nd - slow burn attraction, crushes build over time, wants safety before sex, needs to feel stable to open up, fantasizes about long-term partners not flings, sensual over sexual, big on physical comfort and routine in bed, loves touch, food, cuddling, cozy sex vibes, neck kisses, earthy and slow, love language is quality time and gifts, sex has to feel earned, doesn’t rush into anything, loyal but possessive, confuses comfort with love, stays too long in dead situations ("dead bedroom"), jealousy hides under chill energy, needs control to feel secure, takes care of themselves by eating something good, shopping, staying in bed, numbs out with comfort habits, avoids talking when low, isolates but still wants to feel cared for without asking.

Venus in 3rd - crush starts in the mind, turned on by voice, texts, banter, flirty and clever, fast talker fast lover, fantasizes about late-night convos turning into sex, loves sexting, curious and experimental in bed, love language is words and constant communication, can talk someone into bed or out of love, gets obsessive with overthinking, mind games, emotional detachment masked as charm, gets turned off if partner isn’t mentally stimulating, sex can feel empty if connection lacks depth, when low they spiral mentally, overthink everything, plays it cool but breaks down alone, tries to distract with social media or hookup energy, sending nudes, hard time sitting with emotions, uses words to deflect feeling.

Venus in 4th - soft crushes that sneak up, feels everything but doesn’t say much, drawn to people who feel like home, emotional connection before sexual, touchy but private, into secret love affairs or deep soul-level sex, love language is nurturing and silent care, fantasizes about being protected and emotionally understood, needs to feel safe to open up sexually, sex is intimate, slow, sacred, emotionally unavailable but expects you to read their mind, holds on to past lovers, avoids confrontation, shuts down when overwhelmed, when low they disappear, sleep a lot, rewatch comfort shows, isolate but still crave someone checking in, too much in their head to ask for what they need.

Venus in 5th - falls for people who make them laugh, shows off when they like someone, flirts like it’s second nature, big into playful teasing, sends thirst traps for attention, wants sex to feel fun and wild, obsessed with being desired, fantasizes about being irresistible, likes when someone’s a little obsessed with them, love language is compliments, showing off together, constant attention, gets dramatic when they feel ignored, picks fights just to feel something, jealous if you look too happy without them, acts super confident when sad, flirts harder when they’re down, celeb crushes, jokes through feelings, needs attention like air eve when they say they don't want.

Venus in 6th - crush starts slow, catches feelings from daily convos, notices your habits, flirts by being helpful, lowkey obsessed with consistency, sex is steady, focused, quietly intense, needs trust to open up, fantasizes about someone showing up every day for them, love language is acts of service, small helpful gestures, doing things without being asked, attracted to routines, stability, and loyalty, over-gives to feel needed, gets stuck in people-pleasing, hides hurt by staying busy, shuts down when drained, acts fine but quietly pulls away, zones out into work or chores when depressed, struggles to ask for love directly, wants to be chosen without having to say it.

Venus in 7th - crushes feel like romantic daydreams, wants a partner not a fling, flirts by being graceful, composed, knows how to pull people in with quiet charm, sex is soft but deep, wants balance and emotional connection, fantasizes about being chosen fully, love language is loyalty, quality time, mutual effort, loves being in sync with someone, obsessed with "the one" energy, avoids conflict to keep the peace, can settle just to not be alone, overthinks everything in silence, shuts down when things get unfair, goes cold when hurt, acts distant but still wants closeness, isolates when sad but checks your socials, self-soothes with routines, soft music, and staying emotionally guarded.

Venus in 8th - crushes feel like obsession, can’t stop thinking about them, picks up on hidden vibes fast, drawn to intense people, flirts through eye contact and emotional depth, sex is emotional, consuming, wants to fully merge, fantasizes about secret love, taboo, power play, love language is emotional loyalty, deep talks, full vulnerability, needs to feel like it’s all or nothing, jealous, controlling, tests people without saying why, creates drama to feel secure, stuck in past betrayals, overthinks every interaction, when low they spiral in silence, disappears to process, won't leave even though it's toxic, sexually frustrated, abstinence, plays it cool but feels everything too much, numbs out with fantasies or sex, craves intensity even when it hurts.

Venus in 9th - crushes hit fast and ends fast, falls for people who feel different or exciting, loves foreign accents and deep convos, flirts through humor, big ideas, eye contact, sex is spontaneous, wild, full of movement, fantasizes about road trip hookups, long-distance lovers, teacher-student energy, love language is freedom, sharing knowledge, exploring together, gets turned on by minds and new experiences, red flag: runs when things get too real, says they want love but craves escape, romanticizes unavailable people, talks a lot but avoids emotional depth, when low they disappear, book trips, change everything, chase distractions, attracted to exotic places or people, pretend they’re fine by staying busy, needs space but secretly wants to be missed.

Venus in 10th - crushes on successful people, older partners, boss vibes, celeb struck, drawn to people with money or status, flirts through achievements, style, showing off wins, sex is intense, dominant, about control and slow tension, can be super sexual or fully abstinent if it doesn’t feel “worth it,” fantasizes about secret hookups with powerful people, being worshipped behind closed doors, love language is consistency, financial support, public respect, wants to be admired and shown off, into sugar baby/sugar daddy dynamics, uses love to climb ladders, may marry for money or image, mixes love with ambition, needs validation to feel loved, when low they shut down emotionally, obsess in silence, chase work over love, secretly wants someone who sees past the image but still spoils them.

Venus in 11th - crushes on friends first, celeb crushes, online obsessions, loves brains over looks, flirts through sarcasm, memes, long convos, sex is experimental, mental, needs a strong connection first or else it feels empty, fantasizes about futuristic love, forbidden hookups, secret relationships, love language is shared interests, inside jokes, late-night talks, drawn to detached, mysterious types, emotionally unavailable, ghosts then watches your stories/status, acts chill but overthinks everything, lies to avoid confrontation, confuses flirting with friendship, when low they detach fully, scroll endlessly, disappear into daydreams, pretend they’re too “logical” for love but want to be chosen without asking.

Venus in 12th - secret admirer energy, hidden feelings, loves people they can’t have, crushes feel like fate, drawn to artists, addicts, loners, or people who seem broken, flirts without realizing it, emotionally seductive, soft touches, dreamy eyes, sex is emotional escapism, loves dim lights, silence, and emotional closeness, fantasizes about being rescued, soulmate sex, karmic lovers, dramatic love stories, love language is intuition, emotional sacrifice, being there even when unasked, gives without expecting much back, gets stuck in secret or toxic love, self-abandons, falls for unavailable types on repeat, confused between love and fantasy, ignores red flags to protect the dream, when low they isolate, over-romanticize pain, disappear into fantasies, live in old memories, lack of self-care when depressed, inexperienced, cry over what never even happened, wants love to feel like a movie but forgets to live it.

🌙💬 For readings, check out my pinned post for pricing and more info 💫💸

[drferox]

I have a curious question for anyone that works with sign language.

Some of my clients use a sign language (Auslan) interpreter when they bring their pets into the clinic, usually on a video call, but sometimes in person. So we then have this three way conversation where they sign, the interpreter translates verbally for me, I talk, and the translator signs back to the client.

But we are actually having a four way conversation because I am also talking to the pet.

I will be telling the cat that it’s time to come out of the box, that he’s the bravest most handsome little man. I will thank him for letting me touch his very private tummy and tell him he’s a pretty little gentleman.

Does… does the Auslan translator tell the pet owner what I am saying? Do they use a different facial expression to convey that I am baby taking their pet? Or do they just say ‘the vet is cooing over your cat’?

I will write something nice in the history anyway, but does the client get to know that their cat was a sweet little baby?

[selunefae]

Just the tip (+18) - Caleb (Love and Deepspace)

Caleb lets out a breathless chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "So... Just the tip, huh?" You groan, face heating, and without thinking, you grab the nearest pillow and smack him with it. "Shut up."

masterlist

rating: +18, MDNI

word count: 2,781

tags: caleb (lads) x reader, smut, fem!reader, afab!reader, is not specified if the reader is MC or not (up to interpretation)

content warnings: shameless smut, a tiny bit of dubcon and somno at the start, dryhumping, PnV sex, unprotected sex, creampie, a tiny bit of spanking, dom/sub undertones, use of petnames (baby, princess), tinges of taboo sex but it's not specified why (up to interpretation)

notes: Hii!! I just had this idea in my head and I thought it fit Caleb so much. But this is actually my first smut so I don't know how it turned out! Hope you like it. Also, English isn't my first language and this is my first time writing in present tense (I read so many smuts in present tense and wanted to try it), so I'm sorry if anything sounds weird or cringy. ^^

Caleb has been resisting all day.

Resisting the urge to touch you, to give in to the way you get under his skin with every glance and every fleeting brush of your fingers like it’s nothing. Like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. Yet nothing tests his restraint more than seeing you right now—sprawled out in his bed, lying on your stomach with the thin covers kicked to your feet. The heat of the apartment leaves a thin layer of sweat on your skin, making your clothes cling to your curves in ways that have his throat going dry. The outline of your puffy lips presses against the soft cotton of your panties, the same panties that hug your ass just so right. Your loose tank top had shifted while you were sleeping, one of your tits slipping free, your nipple perking up from the exposure.

Fuck. 

His fingers twitch at his sides. Images of you, mouth parted and legs spread for him, flood his mind. The way your body would arch, hungry and desperate, as he forces his fingers between the lips of your pussy. How your legs would tremble when he finally thrusts his cock inside you, stretching you open. He sees it clearly. And damn, the sounds you’d make...

His jaw clenches.

No. He shouldn’t. He should turn around and get himself under control, breathe through it, think about something else—anything else. But just when he’s about to leave and take a cold shower, you shift. Your hips press harder into the mattress as a soft, sleepy sigh slips past your lips. He runs a hand over his face like it’ll do anything to cool the heat rushing straight to his dick. He tells himself to walk away, but it’s useless. His body moves before his brain can argue.

The bed shifts under his weight when he hovers over you, his frame caging you in. He presses his clothed cock against the curve of your ass, small drops of precum already dampening his briefs and pants. Slowly, he rolls his hips forward and back. Every slide between your cheeks makes him painfully harder. He doesn’t know how much longer he can resist before giving in and taking you then and there.

A small moan slips from your lips, muffled against the pillow. Your brows furrow, and you stir, woken up by the warm pressure between your thighs. It takes you a few seconds to fully return to reality. Caleb is behind you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks himself over your underwear. It doesn’t take him long to realize you’re finally awake.

"Caleb?"

Caleb leans in. His fingers find your waist, digging in just enough to keep you still. He presses a kiss on your skin, barely more than a brush of his lips, but it makes your breath hitch all the same. Then another, this time lingering, pressing harder. His nose grazes your jaw line before he tilts his head and whispers against your ear.

"Tell me to stop."

His lips part, and a moment later, you feel the slow drag of his hot tongue over the sensitive skin of your neck. His tongue flicks out before he nips, just enough to make your body jerk. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine. He wants you to stop him, but his hips keep moving. Your body responds to every slow grind; you can feel yourself getting wetter. You don't want him to stop. "Please, don't stop..."

A low groan rumbles in Caleb’s chest, vibrating against your skin. His hands tighten on your waist, fingers digging in like he’s barely holding himself together. He has been waiting for you to say those words.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, his voice strained. “You don't have any fucking idea what you're doing to me.”

This time, his hips roll forward harder. You can feel his hard cock through the thin layers of fabric separating you. The friction is enough to send more heat pooling at your cunt, enough to make your fingers curl into the sheets. Caleb moves one hand from your waist and trails his fingers down your spine. His hand glades over the swell of your ass, his touch warm, teasing. And then—smack. A sharp slap against the soft flesh. The sudden sting sends a jolt through your body, and you whine. You barely have time to process it before his palm soothes over the spot, rubbing slow circles.

“Yeah?” His voice is low, edged with amusement. He chuckles, the sound rough and teasing. “You like that?”

You moan.

"Please... I need more, I want to feel you" you plea, your voice full with need.

Caleb grits his teeth, his grip on your ass tightening. His movements are rougher now, hips snapping forward with more urgency, like he could fuck you with your clothes still on. Every roll of his hips sends a fresh wave of heat crashing over him, his restraint unraveling thread by thread. His fingers flex over the soft skin of your ass, kneading, grasping, pulling you back against him. His other hand remains firm on your waist, holding you in place as he continues grinding.

"God..." he groans, forehead pressing against your shoulder. He was trying—trying so damn hard not to give in completely. "You know we can't, baby."

"Please, Caleb," you whimper, pressing your hips back into him. You start to move in sync with his rhythm, as if trying to convince him. "Please, please, please. Just the tip, I promise..." 

A sharp breath hisses through his teeth. That definitely did something to him. You can feel the way his body tensed and his cock throbs agaisnt you. "You can't say it like that," he whispers.

Caleb’s hands pull away from your body. But before you can protest, you feel the slight pull of gravity bending to his will. You gasp as your body is lifted from the bed. And then, in one smooth move, he rolls you over, sending you sprawling on your back. The sheets rustle beneath you, and even before you hit the mattress, Caleb is hovering over you again. The room is dark, but the faint glow from the street outside filters through the window, casting a soft glow on his face.

And God, does he look breathtaking.

His dark brown hair is a mess, strands clinging to his forehead, damp with sweat. His pupils are blown wide, dark with lust. His cheeks are flushed, and his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. He looks wrecked. And all because of you.

For a moment, he just stares at you. Lips parted, gaze flickering over your face, down to where your chest rises and falls in time with his. But he quickly regains his composure when you seductively bite your lip. His fingers move before he can stop himself, undoing the buckle of his belt with a slow, measured pull. He pulls his pants and briefs down just enough to free his dick. He is swollen and large. Your thighs press together with anticipation. He pins your legs open with one hand and strokes over your underwear with the other. You're so wet he even doubts you need to be prepped. 

"Fuck, Caleb! Just put it in!"

His breath stutters. He spreads your legs wider and positions himself between them. His fingers hook under the waistband of your panties and pull them down. He gets an eyeful of your perfect pussy, ready to be filled and squeezing arounf nothing, begging for his attention. If he had known he had such an effect on you, by now, you both would have been on your third round. "You did really miss me, huh?"

Caleb taps his cock agaisnt your cunt a few times, then drags the tip between your lips, coating himself in your arousal. The way you desperately whimper his name and buck your hips away for the sudden pressure has his mind going blank. "My god...," his voice is hoarse. He doesn't know how much longer he can hold back before he ruins your insides. He shouldn't be doing this. But you feel too good, sound too good. And when your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer and begging him to just fucking put it in, he knows he's done for.

"Yes, yes!" You moan as he finally pushes in, the tip of his length pressing against your tightness. Even with how wet you are, the stretch of his cock breaching your entrance makes your breath hitch. He pulls out—slow—only to push back in, making sure it's only the tip. You whimper, hips tilting up, trying to take more. But his grip on your hips holds you in place

"I thought you said just the tip?" He teases, even if he wants the same thing as you. But, oh, it was hard. You were so wet, so tight. 

Caleb sinks just the tip of his cock inside you again, only to pull back right after. It's just the tip, but you can still feel how big he is. The slick slide of his length against your entrance makes you shudder. You can't take it anymore. You need all of his cock inside you, you want him to fuck you full with his cum.

"Caleb, just fuck me already," you try to sound calm, but the frustrarion in your voice is evident. His eyes darken, and a playful smirk appeared on his face.

"Just the tip, remember?"

A ragged moan escapes you as he pushes in again. The stretch is barely enough to satisfy the ache building inside you. Your walls flutter around him, trying to suck him deeper, but he pulls back, keeping the stupid promise. He pins you down with one arm, holding you still, and slides the tip back inside. This time, he doesn’t move. He just stays there, his cock twitching inside you, while his free hand wraps around the base of his length, stroking it. With a sharp breath, you move. Your legs hook around his waist, locking him in place. At the same time, your hands grab at the fabric of his t-shirt, fingers curling into it as you yank him down towards you. He gasps at your sudden attack, chest pressing against your own. The shift pushes him in deeper, making him groan against your neck. But it’s not enough. You need him deeper.

"Princess—" Caleb groans, but you don’t let him finish. You tilt your head, burying your face against the crook of his neck. You whisper over his skin, voice trembling with need.

"I don't care," you plead. "Fuck me."

His restraint snaps. He grabs your tighs with both his hands and pushes your legs higher, folding you beneth him. He presses a sloppy kiss to your calf before pressing his hips forward and sinking into you completely. You go light-headed at the feeling of finally having his cock deep inside you.

"You're so big," you moan. Caleb leans in, stealing a kiss while pressing more of himself into you. He takes pride in how your eyes widen and your jaw drops as he stretches your insides.  He waits a few seconds, letting you adjust to his size, savoring the way your walls flutter around him—God, you just feel so fucking good around him. Then, he pulls back, only to thrust back in and fill you all over again.

Caleb moves with slow, deep, measured thrusts that make your body shiver beneath him. He’s savoring every second, relishing the way your walls pulse around his cock. His hands hold onto the fat of your thighs, holding them in place as he rocks into you at an agonizingly slow pace.

"Fuck, baby... You're so tight," he groans, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

Your nails dig into his back. It feels too good, but it’s not enough. You need more. You need him to fuck you harder. Fuck you until you can't think of anything but his cock. You whimper, rolling your hips up to meet his movements, trying to get him to go faster, but his grip on you is firm. He’s making you take it slow—making you feel every inch of him. It's driving you insane.

“Uh-uh,” he warns. “You wanted me to fuck you—so you take it how I give it.” Smack. A sharp slap lands on your ass before roughly gripping your hips, holding you steady and angling himself a certain way. Then—fuck—he slams hard into your gushing hole, hitting your G-spot with ruthless precision. Your cunt clenches around him, a choked moan slipping past your lips. 

" Right there, huh ?" Caleb chuckles, and then he does it again. And again, and again... He continues the hard and slow pace a few more times just to torture you. Your cunt is drooling and begging him to use it, thighs shaking with anticipation. Your nails dig harder into his back with every pinch, slam and grind of his cock.

He stops for a moment. One of his hands slides under your top, fingertips tracing the underside of your boob. "You look so fucking good like this," he mutters. His thumb brushes over your nipple, teasing it into an even tighter peak. He rolls it between his fingers and then pinches, smirking at your reaction.

"Caleb..." You whimper, pushing your chest up into his chest.

"Hm?" He pinches your nipple again. "What is it, baby? Tell me what you want."

"I want—" You gasp. You can barely form words from all the pleasure and frustration you're feeling at this moment.

"You want what?" His tone is all teasing arrogance,  but his pupils are blown wide with desire. "Use your big girl words, princess."

"I want your cock deep inside me, I want to feel you cum."

Caleb growls low in his throat. He holds your tighs again and folds you completely. His body presses you into the mattress, your knees nearly touching your shoulders, leaving you spread open and vulnerable for him. Then, without warning, slams into you. The force knocks the air from your lungs. His cock is buried deep inside you, stretching you wide, and the position makes him feel impossibly big, hitting all the right spots at once.

"Fuuuuuuck," his head drops backwards, finally having your tight pussy wrapped around him.

He doesn't give you a second to adjust. He pulls back and slams in again. The force of his thrusts has the bedframe slamming against the wall. He isn't holding back anymore. He's fucking you hard and fast. He pounds into you mercilessly, like he's trying to break you and mold your cunt into the shape of his cock.

"Caleb!" You cry out. 

He groans at the sound of his name escaping your lips, eyes dark and hungry as he watches the way your face contorts with pleasure. His hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles in rhythm with his thrusts. "Take it. Take all of it like a good girl."

Your breath hitches. The pleasure is too much— "C-Caleb... I'm gonna—"

He shuts you up with a wet kiss. You can feel his body tense up above you,  his muscles tightening as he picks up the pace. His thrusts grow shallower but faster. His teeth graze your bottom lip before he sucks it between his own, swallowing the moan that escapes your throat.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me?" His hips stutter for a split second before he pounds into you faster while he fingering your clit, chasing both of your releases.

"Y-Yes! Oh my god, YES—" You chant. Your cunt clenches around him, squeezing him tighter. Your vision blurs, your toes curl, and then you go silent. Your entire body trembles as the pleasure wracks through you. 

He makes no effort to stop, his high just hanging by a thread. He fucks you through your orgasm, his rhythm faltering as his hips jerk forward once, twice—he groans, burying himself to the hilt and cumming deep inside you. You moan at the feeling of his seed fullying your insides, milking him dry. He pulls a few more thrusts as he rides out his release.

The two of you stay like that for a moment. Your bodies tangled, his cock still inside you and sweaty. The only sounds in the room are your ragged breaths.

Caleb lets out a breathless chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "So... Just the tip, huh?"

You groan, face heating, and without thinking, you grab the nearest pillow and smack him with it.

"Shut up."

[sbcdh]

“Oh gosh the fire. Yes it was truly a tragedy. You know, HECA79 was the prototype for the new regulation model. Well, haha, new for the time. It was the seventies after all. It really is fascinating. She was the first one we put in the class N tanks. Fascinating technology for the time, clever as the dickens. You see, the insides of the tank were to be lined with a thin layer of magnetically laminated gold calcite particles that formed a reflective lattice under electrical stimulation. A gold plated one-way mirror for brainwaves! I’m sure you understand, it was the best we could do for 1983-”

“So you subscribe to the, uh, equipment malfunction theory?”

“Huh? Oh! Oh. Terribly sorry. Equipment malfunction? As I recall, it functioned quite well.”

“So you believe the fire was caused by something else?”

“The fire? Oh. Well, I’m not quite sure. I don’t know the exact specifications, but if I recall correctly, there were all sorts of firebreaks and engineers and junior-engineers stationed all around –all helmeted, mind you– to make sure that sort of thing never happened.”

“And yet.”

“And yet. Indeed…Well, between you and me, I think It was one of the junior engineers.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes. We were a bit of a maverick bunch back then. Reagan gave us all that research money, but, well, its always a bit different when the wheels hit the pavement haha. Oh. Oh. I hope I haven’t gotten anyone in trouble. They were nice lads all. Well, some of them were Germans, but nice lads.”

“We are more interested in your observations of HECA79. I was told you were able to directly observe her during the incident. If there is anything you can tell us, please, speak loudly enough for the tape to hear.”

“Oh! Oh gosh. You know, I completely forgot we were being taped haha! And you caught all of my rambling! Well, I think I can help you out. Oh yes. Now. You must understand. A good half of this is going to be embellished. You know how memories go, you always get more heroic looking back as time goes on haha. But yes, I think I can help you out. Ah, where should I start?”

“What was the first thing out of the ordinary that you noticed?”

“Her lips were moving.”

“Is that out of the ordinary?”

“By gosh for a plutophant yes! At full emmanation, there is no part of them that is not the market! Every neuron soaked in hypno-amphetamine rocket fuel! Most of them –if you’ll pardon my language sir– shit their tanks the moment their Id touches the sub-finantial background grid! What do you think half those tubes are for! A plutophant in full emmanation doesn’t have a braincell to spare to keep their sphincters closed, much less perform something as complex as speech!”

“I see. Could you make out what the asset was saying?”

“Oh no. No, I’m afraid not. I can’t read lips. Back in those days, they were hooked up to a helmet, and then the helmet read the delta-wave patterns, and then printed that on magnetic tape. That way, we could feed the tape to some lob-, ah translators, and have them interpret the feed.”

“When did her lips start to move? What time of day?”

“Funny thing, almost exactly at 12:03. I should have been off at lunch, but I was procrastinating. I had a crossword I was right on the edge of solving. It was one of those big words that goes all the way across the page. TIMEPIECE. I remember that clear as day.”

“Interesting. I have here that equipment registered the fire almost exactly seven minutes later.��

“Oh dear. Do you understand what that means sir?”

“No, please, enlighten me.”

“Is that a schematic of the N class tank you have there? Hand it over. Thank you sir. So. Back in 1983, we didn’t have any of the fancy digital equipment we have now. Well, we did, but not to the same degree. Most of our equipment was good old analogue. You see this module here? These weren’t part of our system. No, we were waiting on the replacements to show up.”

“And, what is that part?” 

“Think of it like the uh, ah yes, the carburetor in a car. It keeps everything balanced. Keeps the subjects metabolism steady so they don’t chew through the drugs too fast, keeps the tank at the ideal temperature for chemical reactions, without boiling the subject like a lobster haha. But the key is, it was completely mechanical. But at the end of the day, it's just a bunch of tubes full of fluid that move based on pressure differentials.”

“Which means?”

“Well, heat would throw it off.”

“Here, I think we have a schematic. Now, doctor, this is very important. I need you to explain to me exactly how the machine malfunctioned, and how it would affect HECA79.”

“Well technically, it wasn’t malfunctioning at all. It was functioning correctly, just under less-than-ideal circumstances. Oh, haha. Yes, haha, but thats not what you’re looking for haha. Yes. Well. What side did the fire hit it from? Do you know?”

“This one here.”

“Fascinating. Well. Then, the apparatus would have uh, hm. Oh dear.”

“Doctor.”

“It would have spiked the hypnostimulant feed, while introducing impurities.”

“Which means?”

“I- I haven’t the slightest idea. It would've been deadly, I can assure you that. But its as if…Its as if you had a car, coasting in neutral, downhill at terminal velocity, and then you switched gears to high gear, and then slammed the gas while spraying rocket fuel into the intake.”

“Could we ask you to write a full report on your speculation?”

“Frankly sir, I am as intrigued as you are. You would have to hold my wrists to keep me from writing on this. Fascinating.”

ENCLOSED: FINAL READOUT OF HECA79

"BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD"[Phrase repeats over twenty thousand times.]

[trashytracktales]

Hiii, I’m not sure if your requests are open, but if they are, could you write something with Lando and Reader where they have been dating for just a few weeks, haven’t had sex yet. One day they’re working out together at Lando’s house in Monaco (the room with the mirror from the video I Ate and Trained Like Lando Norris for 24 hours). Reader is doing squats with her back towards the mirror and Lando can’t help but stare at her ass and he gets hard / flustered so he stops from doing his exercise and reader asks him what’s wrong and before he answers she realises he’s horny so she teases him - this time on purpose- and then they fuck in that room on the floor

In the heat of it | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you for trusting me enough to bring this to life, it was... something 🥵

🌸 summary ──── They’ve been dating for a few weeks now, but the time was never right for them to get intimate. During a playful workout together, Lando gets caught staring, sparking a moment that leaves them both realizing just how deep their connection actually goes.

🌸 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🌸 rating ──── explicit

🌸 category ──── F/M

🌸 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, fluff & smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, suggestive/flirty behavior.

🌸 word count ──── 3.6k

🌸 date ──── Nov. 12, 2024

IT DOESN’T TAKE long before Lando starts to regret his decision. It would have been much easier to invite his girlfriend to have lunch together. That would have saved him from a constant dry mouth and irregular heartbeat every time he feels her eyes accidentally landing on him.

The smooth floor and sophisticated equipment in his personal gym are softly bathed in the morning sun that seeps through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Monaco’s streets are still peaceful at this hour, considering it’s the middle of the week, and the port is sparkling in the sunlight.

The room usually has a subtle scent of cedar and rubber, fresh and energized, but now it carries a sweet honey scent, borrowed from her presence.

They are already halfway through their warm-up. She’s pulling a resistance band around her thighs, stretching before they dive into the heavier part of their routine, her focus completely on the exercises he’s walked her through. But, of course, a huge part of her focuses on how Lando touches her, purposely, to guide her when her posture doesn’t match the exercise.

Even in simple gym shorts and a T-shirt, Lando somehow manages to look so effortlessly attractive, with his curly hair a little messy, face flushed just enough from their recent sets, and his labored breathing after putting in the effort. He’s all energy, fluid in his movements, though he’s clearly trying to keep his pace casual.

“Lookin’ strong,” he teases, flashing a grin as she adjusts her stance.

The girl shrugs, “I’m just that good at following instructions. Although, I think having one of the best trainers in the area helps, too.”

Lando lets a chuckle out, “I won’t go easy on you just because you kiss-ass. But it’s cute to see you trying.”

Even though they have only been dating for a few weeks, there is an undeniable spark between them two, especially in a setting where every glance and skin-to-skin contact feels amplified by the intensity of their exercises. Her sports outfit leaves no room for interpretations, hugging her curves and defining her lines, and Lando’s imagination is stimulated every time he turns his gaze towards her.

He’s now down on the floor, holding a plank, his core engaged and muscles taut as he fights to hold his body up and spine straight. She’s supposed to be timing him, but the second he shoots her a cheeky grin, she decides she can’t resist a bit of fun; in her defense, he started it. With a simple touch, the seconds freeze on the screen of his phone, then she places it on one of the boxes stored in the corner of the room.

“Hi there,” says the girl in a mellow tone once she sits down in front of him just inches apart, propping herself up on her elbows so her face is level with his.

Lando raises his eyebrows, trying not to laugh as his shoulders shake slightly from the effort of holding his body weight. “Don’t,” he warns her, breath coming in controlled puffs.

“I’m not doing anything,” she smiles innocently, kicking her feet in the air while inching a little closer until her nose almost brushes his.

He laughs at her bad acting, his arms starting to shake a bit more. “Outrageous is what you are.”

She pouts just as Lando dips his head down, managing to steal a playful kiss. Their lips meet briefly, soft and warm, before he pulls back up to maintain his form. It makes her sigh in frustration, the ghost of a kiss not nearly enough for her. If anything, it only leaves her wanting more.

Luckily, he doesn’t pull back when she cups his cheek in her palm, pressing her mouth on his once more, his giggles mixing with hers as he tries to keep his balance. Savoring the feel of his lips and the way Lando grunts softly into the kiss, she can feel that this one is more deeper and slower — much real — making her shiver. It seems as though everything else disappears, the feel of each other reminding them both why they decided to give the relationship a shot in the first place.

“And you are so fun to corrupt,” she admits, finally getting up to give Lando time to recover.

After a few sets, she finally moves on to squats, and Lando follows her positioning herself in front of the mirror. It wasn’t even supposed to be there, but he sometimes uses the gym as a storage room for random packages. This one, specifically, came in the mail a few weeks ago and he didn’t have time to hang it in the hallway, where he initially planned. So, he simply let it rest against the wall in his gym room, and it’s been there ever since, forgotten.

Giving the circumstances, he is seriously thinking of leaving it there for good.

Conveniently, Lando decides that now is the perfect time to start his Russian twists, so he bends over to collect a dumbbell off the floor, then sits down on the yoga mat. Right in front of her.

Unaware of the effect she’s having on him, he watches her go through each squat with his eyes trailing down on the reflection of her ass in the mirror, an intense warmth spreading over him as he tries to focus on his own exercise. It is quite innocent, he’s just respectfully looking, until it isn’t.

Until he feels it in his boxers.

Until he almost drops the dumbbell, which catches her attention.

Lando tries to ignore it, though, to nonchallantly brush it off, telling himself that it’s natural and that he’s just admiring her physical appearance. Anyone in his shoes would do it. However, his thoughts start to wander, images flashing uninvited as his heart rate quickens for reasons far beyond the exercise.

“Are you okay down there, hotshot? What are you fighting?” she asks curiously, raising her head just enough to catch the dazed look on Lando’s face.

Her voice pulls him back, his breath catching for a moment, “Yeah, never better.”

It’s his husky voice that gives it away. Right after, she notices a lingering gaze, and the soft pink creeping across his features as his eyes are fixed ahead. She stops, fixing her posture and straightening her back as she turns to catch his gaze in the mirror. She realizes exactly what’s going on in a matter of seconds, a little grin forming in the corner of her mouth.

“Am I too dictracting, Lando?” she purrs, her question — and the fact that he knows she caught him in act — not helping at all.

“No,” he lies, “But I think you’re killing it with those squats.”

“And if I turn around to finish my set, what then?” she whispers, a challenge glinting in her eyes as she brushes the tip of her tongue against her lower lip.

His breath is shallow the moment he decides to abandon his exercise. “Then you would be killing me,” he admits with no restraints. “So, by any means, proceed. Please.”

She glances over to see Lando lying flat on his back, one arm draped dramatically over his eyes, as if he’s in serious pain. His other hand is splayed over his stomach, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm. It’s still funny to see him like that, but then she notices the way his chest rises and falls a bit too fast, and her eyes drift lower, catching a glimpse of the growing bulge in his shorts, an unmistakable proof of what she’s actually doing to him.

Suddenly, all the amusement disappears from her face, being replaced by a warmth that wraps around her neck that’s slowly rising to her cheeks. Her heart is starting to race, small impulses between her thighs forcing her to close them together.

Swallowing hard, she crosses the small space to kneel beside him, gently pulling his arm away from his eyes. His lashes flicker open, meeting her gaze with a mix of embarrassment and desire. And so much lust.

“How can I help you?” asks Lando, his voice rougher than usual, trying to keep things light, though the hint of vulnerability shows in his eyes, and it’s not that hard to read.

She chuckles nervously, “The question is how can I help you?”

In response, Lando uses the same hand to wrap his fingers around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. She feels his hand squeezing a little, the other one moving to her waist, hesitating before pulling her completely on top of him, without breaking the kiss. His tongue slips firmly into her mouth, just as it has done so many times before, but now it feels somehow different. Somehow, they both know that the kiss is meant to lead to something much more intense, because there’s nothing stopping them anymore.

In the intimacy of his apartment, without interruption, Lando lowers his hands to her waist, rubbing her against him. Slowly. Repeatedly. The pressure forces them to moan in unison, a brief taste of the pleasure they are about to share. His hands then drop lower, roaming over her thighs, then back down to her ass, cupping it in his large palms.

He breaks away just enough to murmur, his voice low and almost reverent, “That enough of an answer?”

“Positive,” she replies, feeling his breath hitch as she shifts on top of him, straddling his hips, her hands splaying over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.

Her lips find his again, sweet and intoxicating, each kiss sending sparks to her core. The new position makes her feel him much more firmly between her legs, taking Lando by surprise when her hand lowers to cover his length, massaging him through the thin material of his shorts.

“Fucking hell,” his lips stutter against hers, while rocking his hips into her touch.

“Yeah…” she agrees, breathing hotly above him, “Did I do this to you?”

Before Lando gets a chance to even think of an answer, she slips her hand under the elastic band of his boxers, taking him in her hand, feeling him in his entirety; deliciously soft skin, warm and ready, and so painfully hard.

It makes her ache for him.

She pumps his cock in her hand a few times, enough for her to feel how he shifts under her. It takes her a lot of self-control to stop herself from taking him in her mouth the second she hears his sweet little panting, her thumb rubbing gently over his swollen tip.

The workout itself had left Lando’s muscles burning, but her touch it’s something else entirely, igniting a heat in him that burns deeper than anything he’s felt before. Five more minutes enjoying the same high and he can give up cardio completely. Guaranteed.

Slowly coming back to his senses, Lando realizes that he has free will, so he slips his hands under her sports bra, palming her hungrily until he feels her nipples hardening under his touch. He breaths heavily as he rolls them between his fingers, managing to make her respond with a soft meowl, her grip on his cock losening.

That’s his cue to take the lead, pulling her bra over her head in a quick move, and flipping their bodies over so that now he’s hovering above her, eyes filled with need while looking down at her.

“Hi there,” Lando copies her tone from earlier, feeling a little fraction of the power she had over him.

She wants to talk back so badly — one of her sarcastic little comments that she knows he loves — but all she can do is let out a pathetic whimper between her lips when his mouth finds home on her bare breast. At that, Lando feels a shiver running down his spine, looking up at how she closes her eyes in pleasure, arching her back more against his mouth.

“Driving me insane with your pretty ass, baby,” he says, breathing heavily, managing to cover her body in a thin layer of goosebumps, “And your pretty fucking nipples.”

“Lando…” she lets another cry slip out, opening her eyes to look at him.

The image that greets her makes her breath catch in her throat. The way he sucks on her nipple while playing with the other one, and the way he looks up at her through his eyelashes. It’s all too much. She ends up wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him down with her. Then she runs her hands down his back, tugging at the edge of his shirt, tossing the useless material carelessly to the floor before pulling him closer for another kiss.

Mouth to mouth, chest to chest, skin on skin — who says heaven isn’t real?

But if that’s heaven, then what can she name the feeling she gets the moment his hand slips into her gym shorts and his fingers brush against her soaked entrance? Because it feels way too fucking good, much better than she expected, and certainly much better than her own hand whenever she pictured his face while fingering herself.

Lando starts slowly, spreading her wetness around her pussy, then fucking his fingers in and out, while cautiously watching her facial expressions changing. It’s not taking him long before finding that sweet, sweet spot that makes her roll her hips into his hand, desperation painted all over her face.

“Lan…,” she starts panting, “That’s—yes, right there.”

He hums proudly, sealing his mouth to hers, while parting her thighs with his knee so he can spread her more in front of him. Feeling herself open to his touch, so easy and wet, he no longer feels self-conscious about the way she’s so quickly tunring him boneless under her gaze. He realizes that the feeling is mutual, and it makes him want her even more.

If that’s even possible.

The sound of his fingers repeatedly fucking into her is all that anchors her in the present moment, but the second Lando feels her squeezing around them, he stops so he can silently ask for her permission to take the last piece of her clothing off.

She nods in a rush, swallowing the lump in her throat in anticipation.

Every inch of her is now bathed in the soft, golden light streaming through the window. Warm shadows are cast along her curves, the light outlining each delicate contour of her body as though the sun itself is painting her in real time. The image is so powerful yet vulnerable as she stands there, her figure glimmering with an almost unearthly serene confidence. Lando is utterly captivated by how ethereal she looks, like a goddess come to life, the kind he never imagined he would be close enough to even touch, let alone enjoy. He feels like he’s witnessing something sacred, something so incredibly rare, and the awe he feels is mixed with gratitude that she’s here with him, letting him see her in a such perfect lighting.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Lando finally manages to say, hoping that he hasn’t started drooling all over her in the meantime. “All of you.”

“Your turn,” she says in a muffled voice, slightly bashful at the way he stares at her like he wants to devour her. Which is not far from the truth.

He agrees that it’s a fair request, realizing that the only thing separating them now are his own shorts. Without protesting — because that would be so fucking dumb considering how hard he is — Lando gets rid of them with the speed of a perfect qualifying lap.

Matching the same pace, Lando’s hands slide around her waist, his fingers pressing gently into her hips as he guides them both to the side so they can face the window. Or that’s what she thought. Confused at first, she’s frowning at him, then follows his gaze, lost in the direction of their reflection, understanding immediately what he really wants: a show. A show just for them, in which they can lose themselves together, without limits.

She sighs at the sight of their hot, naked bodies, the way he aligns himself with her, and how he’s finally pushing inside, enough to hear her whimper. She watches as he stands above her, his hands gliding slowly over her sides, up her arms, grounding her in his touch. The image of them together, framed in the soft glow of the room, feels surreal, so intimate and vulnerable in a way that’s completely new for both of them.

Lando pauses, pulling out at her little whimper, then pressing back in, but just the tip.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, “You’re so fucking wet it keeps slipping out,” adds Lando in a low tone, so turned on that it makes her clench around him.

To her frustration, the speed at which Lando pushes back inside might as well be negative, causing her to explode with how needy she becomes in the meantime. But just as she’s about to encourage him to sink further, he buries himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

“Lando,” she says as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, “You… feels so good, shit,” she takes a moment to breath into his skin, then she turns her head to catch their reflection once again.

Lando is already looking, and when they make eye contact through the mirror, he starts fucking her slowly and gently, as if he could break her.

“See how silly you look for thinking we won’t match?” he sounds so amazed by how easily she opens up for him, over and over again, with each steady thrust of his hips, “See that? Taking all of me so well, baby.”

“Mhm,” she cries out at the way his cock throbs against her walls, because she knows it’s way too slow, even for him.

It’s simply agonizing.

“So perfect around me,” he states, “Can’t believe I lasted that long. Should’ve fucked you from the first night.”

At this point, he’s just rambling, but the thought makes her stomach tie in a knot.

“You would’ve let me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” she speaks, already drunk on the way he feels inside her, “I would have let you fuck me in the plane bathroom, on the way to Imola. And back in your driver’s room, when Oscar caught us kissing. And last week, outside the club. Fuck. I wanted you to fuck me there so bad.”

His mind goes blank with all the lost opportunities, causing him to gradually increase his pace, the sound of them connecting so obscene.

“Wh—” he almost chokes on words, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You… stressed about work. I didn’t want to be… distraction,” she tightens her legs around him, keeping him inside her, the words losing their meaning as Lando shifts his position, wrapping his arm around her thigh to open her up even more for him. “Oh. Yes, like that!”

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he swallows hard as he squeezes roughly at her thighs. “I’m so close.”

She knows that will leave marks on her skin, but nothing beats the pleasure of having Lando fucking himself so deep inside her, that her vision starts clouding.

All common sense went out the window the moment she stepped through his door, anyway.

She can feel his breath warm against her neck, hear the soft hitch in his breathing as he leans in, his lips brushing her shoulder, never breaking eye contact with her in the mirror. Lando’s hands are making their way to cup her ass, pulling out all the way, before fucking back in, all over again, until he finds the perfect rhythm between their bodies. He moans loudly, pressing his upper body on her, their scents blending together and sweat transferring from skin to skin. They move so in sync, completely attuned to each other, and the sight of their shared pleasure, reflected back at them, turns everything into fireworks, her mind completely empty. Except for how well she’s being fucked.

“Lan—Lando,” she’s so close to sobbing that she shuts her mouth at the sound of her voice, thinking it’s too pathetic to whine as she cums around him, her release dripping all over between their bodies.

The wet sound her pussy makes gives Lando way to fuck in deeper, taken by surprise that she finished without any warnings whatsoever. He grips her ass one more time before he stills inside her, his cock throbbing, and pulls out right before he starts leaking, resting his cock against her thigh, his entire length coated in her release. His cum drips from his tip to her inner thigh, making him groan while he fixes his gaze on the mirror at the image of them.

She buries her fingers in his curls after he finally collapses on top of her, their heavy breaths echoing throughout the room. With his head on her chest, he can feel her heart racing, gradually slowing down, and lets out a soft laugh as she shifts a little under him.

“We’re so fucking matching, baby. Let’s gooo!” exclaims Lando, exhaust evident in his voice.

She feels her cheeks warm, “I think you’re a little biased right now,” she jokes.

Lando shifts slightly so he can see her face, brushing a thumb tenderly along her side. He smiles softly, the usual spark in his eyes softened by something deeper, so gentle. “I’m just so happy for us.”

Her heart flutters, and she feels him sink even closer to her, threading his fingers through hers.

“And very sweaty,” she adds with a chuckle.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure that’s you,” he teases, letting the moment pass slowly, then calling out her name in a serious voice.

“Mhm?” she hums while turning to look in the mirror, watching him getting comfortable on top of her.

“Where do we go from here?” asks Lando.

“Your bedroom, I hope. The floor is killing my back.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[i-smoke-chapstick]

saw that you're in your got era so perhaps jealousy headcanons for the got or hotd characters? 👀 literally anyone from these characters - robb, jaime, margaery, oberyn, theon, cersei or ramsay, I'd love to see your interpretation on any of them ! ( or aemond, alicent, aegon, gwayne, OTTO !!, larys, daemon or mysaria for hotd, again whichever era you feel like it !!) and just for future reference, do you write for asoiaf characters or mainly the shows?

'LOVE CAN KILL, [jealousy! hcs]

-GOT / HOTD CHARACTERS X READER-

⋆ Characters ↬ Robb, Jaime, Margaery, Oberyn, Cersei, Joffrey, Ramsay, Tyrion, The Hound, Aemond, Aegon, Alicent, Gwayne, Daemon

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; jealousy, and how some characters deal with it ;)

⋆ tags/warnings. GOT and HOTD!characters x female reader. SFW! But naturally, some of these characters get a bit suggestive! Possessive behavior, canon typical violence, etc. Please send in more GOT/HOTD requests! Apologies this took so long, this is more characters in a post than I've ever done lol. Unfortunately I'm not super familiar with Otto, Larys, Theon, or Mysaria, so I decided to pick some characters I'm more familiar with! (Joffrey is my #1 favorite of all time, my sincerest apologies.) Whew, 14 characters ! For right now I'm only writing for the TV shows! (i've only read book 1, lol)

𝑅𝛰𝐵𝐵 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐾

♫ “I wasn't thinking when I told you to stay.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

With Robb, it's all about the body language. And boy, he's horrible at hiding it.

He can have a hard time placing the feeling as jealousy. He was raised to be honorable. But feelings of...neglect run deep with him. Oldest child syndrome, if you will.

Which is why his jealousy most likely manifests in subdued, quiet behavior. Part of him will recognize he's being ridiculous, while another part of him is silently fuming. Fists clenched, he'll send you an intense stare as he watches you converse with another lord.

His emotions leak through his expressions. When he catches you staring back, his gaze will flit down, and he'll wait patiently for you're time. Or...in most cases...he'll march right up, placing himself between you and the man. Maybe a small, "I'll take it from here." If the lord is offering to help you with something.

A subtle touch on the small of your back. It's a small claim, a subtle "back-off."

A lot of his jealousy also transforms into protectiveness more than anything. He'll offer to accompany reader to places he wouldn't normally be concerned about. He's close by, and he's reminding her wordlessly, he's watching over her and any threat.

Finally, when you two are alone, will he drop down that guard of his. Covering up that burning pit inside him with casual humor, you can sense the underlaying seriousness of his voice in his light teases.

"You’re quite popular these days. Should I be worried that I’m not your only admirer?"

He certainly beds you, having something to prove. And only afterwards when you are in his arms, sweaty and warm from the candlelight, wrapped in furs...will he calm down.

"It’s not that I don’t trust you… It’s them I don’t trust. Some men don’t know how to keep their place." He'll whisper, holding onto you firmly.

𝐽𝐴𝐼𝑀𝐸 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “You don't know that you're in over your head.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Jaime's jealousy is burning. It's simply the way he was raised. And gods, you are his.

Numerous sarcastic remarks flow between the two of you and the man who he believes has essentially stolen your affections. His taunts are offhand, dry remarks, often directed towards his "opponent" or even you, if he's feeling bitter enough.

"I didn’t realize he was such a comedian. Maybe I should ask him for pointers." He'll say, with that sarcastic drawl. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to make me jealous. Not that it would work, of course." He chuckles, but his gaze is sharp.

Depending on the offense, Jaime's reactions differ. If you simply have an admirer, a few...well chosen words are directed towards them. His confidence allows him to not be too bothered. Maybe standing closer, clearly showing off to whatever poor soul thought they had a shot with you.

It's a different story if you are friends with the person involved, or entertain their advances even mildly or jokingly.

That's when the uncharacteristic tension comes out, full of small twitches in his jaw and curt, smug responses. His visible annoyance is uncontrolled.

We saw how he was with Loras when it came to Cersei. If he feels truly threatened, whether it's by another pretty boy, or just someone he feels could...hypothetically...have the upper hand...He'll corner them when you're off somewhere else. And give a small warning, from the Kingslayer himself.

"You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with, so let me remind you." He leans in just close enough for his words to sink in. "Whatever you think you might be to her… you’re not. Let’s keep it that way, hm? I'd hate to see you make any...lasting mistakes."

𝑀𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝐸𝑅𝑌 𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐸𝐿𝐿

♫ “It was just too hard to push you away.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Margaery is smart with her feelings. She knows how to play the game, and play it well. Instead of showing her jealousy openly, she's a touch more composed than most characters on this list.

She recognizes just how precious you are, and admires that. She doesn't necessarily blame others when they become...attached to you.

When jealousy arises, she views it more as a small problem in need of being handled. And she knows how to handle things.

She embraces the graceful competition, subtly outshining anyone who seems to get in the way of her goals. Her goal being you're affection, of course. You're already hers, and she sees no problem in working to keep it that way.

This appears in gestures of strategic sweetness to keep you close, perhaps wearing your favorite gowns on her, and offering that charming smirk. She doesn't shy away from manipulating you, just a teeny bit.

"They’re certainly captivated by you. I suppose I’ll have to work harder to keep your attention." She teases, "Besides, who could ever compare to us?"

Her words carry a playful undertone, but she makes her point clear. Laughing charmingly, threading her arm through yours.

Very rarely does she think she's in any serious danger. She prides herself on being yours and knowing how to keep you on a tight leash. Though...if she feels genuinely worried, she expresses her feelings quite clearly but still gently. She reminds her lover of their shared goals, and all that they've built together.

"My, you do attract admirers easily, don’t you? I’ll have to start guarding you more closely." She gives you a playful look, though her touch on your arm will linger just a bit longer than usual.

𝛰𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑌𝑁 𝑀𝐴𝑅𝑇𝐸𝐿𝐿

♫ “Let me go, but you won't let me go.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oberyn doesn't feel insecure. How could he? He knows, deep down, that you're his. Jealousy isn't something he confines himself too, he views it as an ugly emotion, capable of getting rid of the true wonders love has to offer.

That being said...he is only a man. And he is fiercely protective. If anyone were to flirt with you and you were clearly uninterested, it would be a swift death, or at the very least, he'd make his point clear with a blow or two and a cutting edge remark. Especially if they are a Lannister. He enjoys you being admired, but only to a certain extent.

"Your efforts are wasted, they’re far too captivating for someone like you. I’d suggest you find someone more... suited to your charms." He begins, hand itching for his spear, "Consider this your first and last warning."

Yeah, he means business.

Most of the time, he spins the situation to show-off. Showcase his own passion and devotion to you. If it's simply a friend of yours, he may even offer them to join in. If not, he'll spend the entire night practically worshipping you, promising that he's the only one who could ever make you feel like this.

Similarly to Margaery, he teases you lightly.

"You have a lovely laugh. But I must admit, it’s much better when it’s for me alone."

Oberyn doesn't shy away from PDA either. It's that assertive reclaiming he seems to favor, pulling you close, whispering something that affirms your affections for each other. He'll revel when he watches the other mans face fall in dismay.

He might get cocky, and push it a bit far. By the time he's done, the 'competition' will be utterly humiliated and embarrassed. He'll be smirking at his own quips.

"I assure you, my friend, my lover favors...more substantial things." He motions to the poor mans crotch.

You're gonna have to give him a slap on the arm.

𝐶𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐸𝐼 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “Consequence of loving me can be cruel.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Cersei's jealousy is intense and multifaceted, to say the least. It manifests in a mix of cold fury and harsh threats, channeling that anger into much more controlling behavior.

Deep down, she is terribly insecure. Once another man or woman as your attention, and she catches on, she's coolly lashing out. And she catches on quickly.

At first she may appear indifferent, but if you look close enough, you can see the subtly giveaways. The way her lip curls, her nostrils flare, and her knuckles go white gripping her wine chalice.

If you're the first one to confront her, and attempt to reassure her, you'll save yourself some trouble down the line. Guaranteed, she'll deny it, but still make a passive-aggressive remark here and there. But eventually she'll calm down, edges softening.

That rare moment of vulnerability that you're not sure is manipulation or not. She'll look towards the ground, running her thumb over you're hand on her cheek. She'll sit on the edge of her bed, jaw clenched.

Now, it's a whole different story if you don't catch on to the early signs. If you don't manage to reassure or call her out in time, that jealousy implodes.

She may confront you first, anger bleeding through her. She runs on it. She may even threaten you, oblivious to the potential consequences her words might have.

“You think you can charm your way into my affections by paying attention to that little fool?" She's standing up, loathing distorting her features. Her voice raises. "Perhaps I should throw a feast in her honor. Let’s see how charming she is when surrounded by my people."

It's threats and threats and more and more threats...which can be especially worrying if the person she's jealous of is a friend of yours.

Almost every scenario ends with you having to comfort her, treading carefully with the words you say.

Now, when it comes to confronting the competition, she makes it very clear. Though, these threats are often much more impulsive. A swig of wine, and she gracefully moves towards them when you're out of sight.

A faux compliment or two, before she whispers, close.

“You’ll find that my guards are quite loyal to me. A simple command, and they’ll ensure you never breathe the same air as her again.”

It only makes her feel a bit better. But, regardless, she's smiling smugly, feeling proud of herself when the offenders face turns white.

𝐽𝛰𝐹𝐹𝑅𝐸𝑌 𝐵𝐴𝑅𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸𝛰𝑁

♫ “Too much love can kill.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oh, Joffrey. I'm obsessed with him.

Yeah. He has the worst jealousy issues out of everyone on this list. It's baaaaad. It's a cocktail of insecurity, possessiveness, and entitlement. As someone who has been raised to believe he is above others, and has been coddled his entire life...it infuriates him.

It's the same feeling you get as a child, when someone steals one of your toys. You belong to him. He never grew out of that mentality, or that feeling.

Be prepared for plentiful outbursts of anger. He's a tantrum personified, especially if he feels disrespected. Insecurity grips him tight and refuses to let up until he's either been heavily reassured...or the other person is... taken care of.

And even then, after reassuring him for hours, it may not be enough. You know how he hired a knight to take out Tyrion in the Battle of Blackwater? Yeah. That person will be paid a little 'visit.'

When reassuring him, similar to Cersei, you really have to be careful what you say, or it might make the situation even worse. At that point, he's seeing red.

"I’m the king! You should be grateful for my attention, not chasing after scraps!" He's huffing, pointing to himself as his breathing increases. He'll look at you with an ice cold glare, nose wrinkled in distaste.

He might even force his hand around your face, harshly grabbing you. He looks dead into your eyes, voice clear and low. "You're mine. You belong to me." He's seething.

If he notices you simply looking at anyone else too long, he'll feel beyond threatened in both his masculinity and position as king. Especially if you laugh at another mans jokes, or simply attempt to be friendly with a commoner or lord.

"What’s so amusing? You’d think you’d find better entertainment than that fool." He mutters under his breath harshly, bad habit of picking at his fingers. He'll shuffle uncomfortably. He'll look to you expecting agreeance. It's 100% that mentality of 'Friends? You don't need friends. You have me.'

Yeah, he keeps the very blunt insults coming. Petulant name calling is not above him. Includes, but is not limited too, "Degenerates, Idiots, Commoners, Peasants, or Cretins" which he may describe as being "Stupid, Disgusting, Repellent, Sickening, or Revolting." He's got a LOT of those angry remarks in the bank.

While he may not directly confront the offender, (he doesn't have time for idle threats.) He has his own ways of dealing with them. And that is a public humiliation ritual, making a mockery of any rival. And if they disobey ANY whim of his, they're gone. That one scene with Tyrion at his wedding? That "Kneel!"? He's commanding the same of any man unlucky enough to have threatened his claim on you. Oh, and they're going to be his cupbearer.

Even if they do as he asks, by now his anger will have transformed into that renewed sense of cruelty. "You're fingers or your tongue?...Or I could just cut your throat."

𝑅𝐴𝑀𝑆𝐴𝑌 𝐵𝛰𝐿𝑇𝛰𝑁

♫ “You're gonna suffer now, whatever you do.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

His jealousy may not be as overtly intense as Joffrey's, but it certainly is the scariest.

In his own words, he prefers being an only child. That same kind of mentality certainly carries over to his relationship with you. He prefers to be the only one you see that way.

He loves a good game, and that's what this is. If anything, it's quite exhilarating for him. Though, he is a huge hypocrite. For a man who thinks jealousy is boring coming from you, he feels it quite freely.

Sees it as a means of asserting dominance, whether that be through intimidation or overt manipulation. He doesn't deny it like most characters on this list. When he's feeling jealous, he says it. It's a small warning for you not to go any farther, lest worse things occur for you or the perceived threat.

He'll go up to whoever you are talking too, saccharine and honorable smile on his face. He'll casually interrupt, introducing himself as Lord Bolton's successor. Despite his calm demeanor, there is a tightness in his face, and a wicked look in his eyes, that only you can recognize. It will make you shiver.

If the rival persists, he'll find it all too amusing.

"You're bold, I'll give you that." He says with a boisterous laugh, and you already know the mans fate is sealed.

Looks like his hounds will be having another meal tonight. He'll have his men go out looking for the man, and he'll question him more...privately, when you aren't there to witness his tortuous taunts.

But for now, his focus is on you, and your loyalty to him. When he excuses the both of you, his hand is gripping yours painfully tight.

By the time you're in his chamber, he's on you, ripping your clothes off with a harsh intensity and pushing you to the wall. His nose is twitching in barely kept anger, forcing you to look at him.

We all saw that scene between him and Myranda when she threatens to marry someone else, and it was not pretty. His eyes are borderline bloodshot, and he can't keep his hands off you or your throat.

"You're mine." He leans forward, through gritted teeth. It's better you don't put up a fight, because he'll be having you and your attention one way or another.

Que the numerous kisses and bite marks soon to follow. And he is not gentle when he's inside you.

You'll never hear from the flirtatious lord again...and if you do, it's only in the prayers of his grieving family.

𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐼𝛰𝑁 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “My love, you are not safe with me.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Now, Tyrion's jealousy is more subdued and introspective versus some characters on this list. He has a good sense of self-awareness, and he's intelligent to figure out what he's feeling quite quickly.

At first he'll dismiss it as nothing more than an annoying feeling of insecurity he attempts to cover up. But...it doesn't last long. Especially when someone else makes you laugh. Or when Bronn makes a taunt with a half smirk, that some other fancy lord has taken a keen interest in his lady. (Bronn, you instigator!)

As such, Tyrion resorts to his usual humor to deflect any unpleasant feelings he may have when he's jealous. Similar to his brother, these witty remarks are are subtle intimidation technique, meant to dryly convey his displeasure.

"Ah, the sound of laughter. How quaint. I suppose I’ll have to work harder to earn your amusement." He forces a smile, masking his discomfort. "I didn’t realize I was competing for the title of Court Jester."

These feelings of inadequacy manifest in more self-deprecating ways for Tyrion, given his anger is more controlled. He might opt to drown his sorrows, so don't be surprised if you catch him drunkenly waving his chalice around, doing poor impressions of the so-called-lord that had your attention.

This doesn't mean he won't confront the rival, though. Quite the opposite. While he won't seek the man out, (For his sake, he isn't privy to seeing the tall handsome lord in person. He's not a masochist.) If he happens to come across him flirting with you first hand, or sees him during a feast, he'll make sure to throw one or two gibes out there.

"Desperation looks unflattering on you, my friend. Perhaps you should tone it down a notch." He speaks carefully, nodding to Bronn as a subtle warning. "Or at least the best you can manage..?"

If the rival flirts with you blatantly and in front of him, I can 100% imagine him putting them down. After a flirtatious remark directed towards you, he'll make a dry comment, "Flattery is wasted on me, but do go on; I’m always entertained by those who think they can win my affection." As if it was directed towards him. Probably shuts the man up for a moment.

When the two of you are alone, he'd be very grateful if you could just hold him. Give him that reassurance he craves when his carefree facade breaks. That moment of vulnerability means the world to him.

𝑆𝐴𝑁𝐷𝛰𝑅 "𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐻𝛰𝑈𝑁𝐷" 𝐶𝐿𝐸𝐺𝐴𝑁𝐸

♫ “I need you to go, don't fight me.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Listen up, Sandor doesn't take shit.

Jealousy isn't an emotion Sandor is particularly used too. In fact, he didn't think he'd find anyone to love in his lifetime, so the feeling is foreign and unpleasant. And, like a mean dog, Sandor's first reaction is to growl.

He doesn't like it. Says it's constricting, and it pisses him off. Not just the pretty boy lord flirting with you, but the whole situation in general. Makes him feel vulnerable, and weak.

Naturally, his first reaction is to distance himself. He may avoid you, grumbling, spitting out vile and vulgar comments to get you to run with your tail between your legs. It's better for the both of you that way.

"You think they’re worth your time? Just a pretty smile to distract you?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "You could do better. But then again, you always choose to suffer." He motions at himself, and it's a glimpse of that self-depreciation he buries.

But you love him for a reason, and you know that won't end well. Best way to handle him when he's jealous is to be gentle, and to listen.

He doesn't want empty reassurances. He's complicated that way, even if they are genuine. He isn't one for flowery words or overt displays of emotion, so the best way to comfort him would be to give him some space, but continue to take care of him.

It will still frustrate him, but eventually he'll cave. He'll rejoin you, silently, eventually. Won't offer any apologies, but maybe a gruff nod, and you two will commence whatever it is you two have.

In future instances, he becomes much more brutally honest with how he feels. Doesn't sugarcoat it. If he doesn't like someone, even if they are a friend, he expects them gone- or he'll take care of them regardless. That kind of possessive behavior is just something you'll have to work through.

I can imagine him silently brooding if he witnesses someone flirting with you first hand. Typically his size and reputation is enough to scare whoever away. He's looming over them, eyes dark, and ready to defend what's his.

When you take your leave, he'll confront the person with a very explicit threat or two.

"If you don’t back off, I’ll find a nice dark corner to stuff you in- preferably with a pile of shit." Or, "Get any closer, and I’ll rip your tongue out and shove it down your throat."

𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁𝐷 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ “Get swallowed by the weight.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Aemond has the most...complex jealousy out of everyone on this list. It's layered, and the outcome may be unpredictable. It's an emotional and volatile nature that's been building up for years since he was a child.

He often had feelings of jealousy for his brother, his nephews, etc. That trauma is deeply rooted in him, and it's hard to let go of old habits, given it's been present all his life.

You'll watch his head bow in distaste when you make small conversation with other lords. How his eye will gaze at you, almost warningly. His jaw will be clenched tight, and he'll avoid eye contact, looking off to the side in anger. He doesn't want to watch.

If it's a friend of yours, he can be a bit mean, questioning your loyalty a bit harshly.

"Friendship? Is that what you call it?" He speaks, angrily. A thinly veiled threat is directed to you, "It seems more like a prelude to betrayal."

He'll brood in the corner, silently waiting. That is, unless, he deems the man goes too far.

In the scene where he gets his eye put out by Lucerys, the conversation that starts before it happens pretty much sums his jealousy up. He's firm with his claim to Vaghar, and the same goes for you.

When Rhaena states that Vaghar was hers to claim, Aemond responds in kind, "Then you should've claimed her." And puts up a hell of a fight to prove his point. That same possessiveness carries over to his relationship with you. He doesn't back down. You're his.

He has no problems getting in between you and the man he feels threatened of. He offers a blunt threat.

"I could have you torn apart, limb by limb, and I’d sleep soundly at night. Be certain of that."

Guaranteed, mixed feelings of insecurity will rise to the surface. When you two are alone, he'll continue to brood silently, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and body language tight.

Please do reassure him. He needs it. His eye will soften, and he'll place his hand over yours, leaning into your touch. With a soft huff of an air, a final warning slips past his lips.

"Don’t make me remind you why I’m the only one worthy of you."

𝐴𝐸𝐺𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ “I wanna hold on tightly.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Aegon handles jealousy poorly, much like he seems to handle everything else.

It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. Once that feeling in his chest flares up, it's shown through erratic behavior, sarcasm, and attempts to assert his claim in juvenile, insecure ways. Unlike his brother, he lacks the restraint to simply brood.

No, be prepared for plenty of mocking comments directed towards the man he's threatened of, and showy displays to prove he's the better choice.

Everyone knows he is unpredictable and reckless, and possessiveness drives him to act out. He certainly overindulges to cope with his insecurity, (getting shitfaced) and will gladly push your boundaries to get your attention back on him.

Not to mention the belittling comments he'll make.

"Oh, is that who you’ve chosen to entertain now? I didn’t realize your taste had grown so dull."

Prone to acting overtly clingy, almost like a restless cat. He will attempt to slide over into the conversation, resting an arm around you, or even pulling you away. He doesn't care if it's 'improper.' He probably brings up his status, his bloodline, acting over-the-top.

He's also no stranger to outbursts. His temper may make him lash out impulsively, whether that be towards you or the man whose got your attention. If he's in a particular mood, be ready to deal with a screaming Aegon, threatening to slaughter and burn said rival. His fist will come down hard on the council table.

He also doesn't care if he's making a show of it in front of the council members. Que Alicent or Otto attempting to placate him. He needs to have a cooler head if he's going to be ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and this type of behavior isn't very becoming.

He definitely thinks he's owed some make-up sex, if only to quell the insecure storm raging inside him.

"You think they could satisfy you? Truly?" He says, firmly, as he steps closer. Anger is burning in his words, volume raising. "They wouldn’t even know where to begin."

And he plans to show you that he's right.

𝐴𝐿𝐼𝐶𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅

♫ “I'm afraid I'll pull you over the edge.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Alicent experiences jealousy complexly, just like Aemond. It gnaws on her until she's at her breaking point. Rather than overt displays or confrontations, she attempts to employ more strategic distance...but it always ends up resorting in icy politeness.

She's making her displeasure known through restrained, pointed remarks. Out of duty and pride, she'll attempt to avoid direct confrontation, but she wears her jealousy on her sleeve.

I imagine her withdrawing from the situation at first, if not for anything but her own sake. Her gut reaction, out of insecurity, is to escape the situation. It honestly makes her feel sick.

Unless she's forced to stay...then she'll begrudgingly offer a tight smile. Her responses are carefully measured, and she slips into that role of "queen" rather than a lover.

A part of it stems from passive aggressiveness, and another part of it is purely subconscious.

Speaking of passive aggressiveness, she'll make some pretty cutting remarks, either questioning your loyalty or purposely feigning ignorance to the situation.

"Perhaps I’m mistaken. But I know loyalty when I see it. Or when I don’t."

It's an all bark, no bite threat towards you. But it serves as an aggressive reminder of your connection with her, and that you are now apart of her duties.

If she does interfere beforehand, she'll make indirect remarks about the person causing her jealousy, but will most likely frame it as merely her own curiosity.

Maybe just a touch of self-depreciation, unintentional manipulation. Years of Otto's techniques have rubbed off on her.

"It’s of little consequence, truly. I simply thought I was the one you preferred to spend your time with. I may have misjudged."

𝐺𝑊𝐴𝑌𝑁𝐸 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅

♫ “Hurts to say it over, over again.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

In contrast to Alicent, Gwayne has no problem when he feels threatened to step in. He's a member of a powerful house, and a knight no less. Those two things have taught him to be prideful and honorable.

He will defend your honor whenever he deems in necessary, and there are no exceptions. He certainly has a flash of a temper, but he believes he's much more restrained than others, given his training.

If he thinks someone is crossing a line, he'll interfere. He'll position himself quite closely to you, making his presence known.

He offers the man a silent warning, offering a cool, assessing look. It would be enough to communicate his disapproval.

And if the man persists...well...they'll end up with the end of a sword pointed at them.

Similar to Robb, Gwayne's jealousy appears more in his heightened protectiveness. He insists on staying close for your safety.

"Do they need to be reminded that you’re already spoken for?"

Obviously, his noble pride carries on. If he gets pushed, his jealousy will show more openly, taking the man aside, and telling them that he is more worthy of her time and attention. Might throw in a comment about his noble standing.

He'll take you aside when everything is said and done, reminding her his intentions are honorable. Everyone else is just...unworthy.

"You may not see it, but I know men like him. If he truly respected you, he wouldn’t need to linger around someone else’s beloved."

𝐷𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ "No matter how you feel." Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oh boy, you'll have to keep this man on a tight leash when his jealousy flares up. It's as intense as he is, and he shows it openly.

He'll deny it, or embrace it, depending on the severity of the perceived offense. It's closely tied to that desire for power within him he can't seem to shake. Any affront to your loyalty is an affront to his own standing.

He switches from possessive protectiveness to outright hostility. There's really no in between. It's a raw and unfiltered fury that makes his hand shake and his eye twitch.

He doesn't tolerate rivals, and he's very upfront that he's the only one fit to be by your side. This comes through when he has you all to himself on his bed...

He'll confront the person whether you want him to or not.

"If they value their limbs, they’d remember you’re mine." He mutters casually, pacing around the room.

He carries that hard glint in his eyes. He may even mildly appreciate the sheer balls of the man stupid enough to attempt to flirt with you, but he'll shut it down quicker than anyone on this list.

"You’ve got a bold tongue. I wonder if I should cut it out..?" He'll look to you for permission. It's up to you if you wanna let the dragon loose!

[trainer-from-unova]

a good man

Ⓢ english ao3 Ⓢ spanish ao3 Ⓢ masterlist Ⓢ

ship: the void x pregnant!reader (x robert reynolds)

summary: void remembered the first time he talked to her about her pregnancy, telling her he didn't miss the news because she looked fatter, to which she just laughed and said "no shit sherlock" or where void is in love with you but you're pregnant with bob's babygirl

au: bob and void are different personalities

c/w: during time-skip, pregnancy, breastfeeding, light angst, domestic fluff, some humor, mentioned breeding kink, references to depression, jealousy, unrequited love but maybe not really (is open to your interpretation), soft the void, bittersweet open ending

a/n: english isn't my first language and feedback would be greatly appreciated, same with kudos on ao3 even if you read the drabble here

word count: 803

The morning was cloudy, and they were the only ones in the tower. Since she had become pregnant she had stopped going on missions so they spent more time together, either with Bob or with Void. This time it was the latter who was present, but his temper had long since mellowed, and, surprisingly, she wasn't afraid of him.

He wouldn't admit it, but this one fascinated him. While she was resting with her eyes closed in an armchair in front of the window he was in another armchair next to her, his neck turned in her direction, looking at her and her belly entering the last trimester of pregnancy. He remembered the first time he talked to her about it, telling her he didn't miss the news because she looked fatter, to which she just laughed and said "No shit Sherlock". He should hate her for how positive and cheerful she was, he should despise her because psychologically torturing Bob was harder now, but he couldn't, and he really tried. All he wanted was her attention, the same attention he gave Bob, but he knew that, for many reasons, he would never get it. He was destined to be alone, unlike Bob who now had her and soon would have his daughter.

And even though he didn't want to be a father he would want to have gotten her pregnant himself — not just because it would mean having sex with her, but because it would be like marking her with a nine-month-long mark that everyone would see. Bob could be sleeping while he had control of the body, but Void was always present (though often silently observing) when Bob had control, and he knew very well what was going on in the depths of his mind, even if he wasn't aware of it. "Look at my girl, look how well I've filled her up." It made him sick.

But then a small whimper caught his attention, bringing him out of his thoughts. His gaze, which had been drooping in thought, refocused on her, who grimaced and put her hands to her belly.

"She's kicking me..." and after a short pause she decided to ask: "Do you want to touch it?"

The proposal surprised him, she knew he was Void and not Bob, but he accepted, getting up from the armchair where he was to approach her, leaning on the armrest with his left hand and leaning down. He put his right hand in front of her belly, uncertain where to put it, but she grabbed it with hers to indicate where she was feeling the kicks.

"She's going to be strong like you," he said, and it was probably the nicest, or rather, the least mean words he had ever said (in general and specifically to her) in his entire existence.

The baby's crying woke him and the woman lying next to him suddenly. Bob could be very clever when he wanted to be, leaving the problems to him so that he could sleep at ease.

"I'm coming, I'm coming..." she said, clearly still drowsy as she climbed out of the duvet to go over to the cot and take the child in her arms. He reached out to turn on the lamp on the bedside table, not for himself but for her. "Sh, sh..." she whispered to her daughter as if she could understand her, not for fear of waking the others (since they were on another floor and the walls were thick) but for them.

"Bob is still asleep," he said as he watched her take off her shirt, knowing full well what her daughter wanted. She threw the shirt on the bed and then leaned over the cot, holding the child in her arms.

"Good for him," she replied nonchalantly as she dug her knees into the bed. "Let him do it while he can," she said as she sat cross-legged.

He watched her silently settle the child and wince as she bit her nipple for food, sucking in through her nose. She had a cold, and how could she not have a cold if she kept having to stand bare-chested in the middle of winter?

"...Come here," he said, tired but not because he had just woken up in the middle of the night.

He caught her eye, who looked away from her daughter for a second, and saw him settling in, spreading the duvet and his legs. She understood what he was proposing and awkwardly approached him, sitting between his legs, resting her back against his warm torso and her head on his shoulder as he covered her up.

"You're becoming a good man," she said as she felt him rest his cheek on her head.

"Don't insult me like that," he said, and she laughed tiredly.

© trainer-from-unova / alicent burton | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[hrtwayne]

Picture You || Misa Rodríguez

Pairing: Misa Rodríguez x Putellas!Reader

Summary: Where Misa has a huge crush on Alexia’s sister.

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: Just the reader being completely oblivious and Misa being a total simp.

Women's Football Masterlist | Masterlist

The stadium was starting to fill up, the pre-game excitement buzzing in the air as the Barcelona and Real Madrid players stretched on the pitch. You were focused, adjusting your camera settings, capturing the moments before the match began. 

Your attention was on Aitana and Salma, who were laughing about something as they warmed up. But without you noticing, there was another pair of eyes fixed on you. 

Misa Rodríguez, sitting on the bench, sipping water—but her gaze never left the photographer. She didn’t even try to hide it, her lips slightly curved in a small smile as she watched you move around the field, adjusting angles and taking shots. 

Thanks to Alexia, Misa had managed to get closer to the midfielder Putellas. 

On the other side of the pitch, Alexia and Jana exchanged glances, whispering and trying to hold back their laughter. 

"She really can’t hide it, can she?" Jana whispered, nudging Alexia. "Misa’s turned into a complete fool over your sister, Ale."

"I swear, if she gets any more obvious, she’s gonna start drooling," Alexia replied, stifling a giggle. 

Unaware of the two, Misa kept watching you, completely lost in her own thoughts—until Patri appeared behind them, crossing her arms. 

"She really doesn’t know how to be subtle, huh?" she commented, making Alexia and Jana jump. 

"Damn, Patri! You almost gave me a heart attack," Jana said, clutching her chest in exaggerated shock. 

Patri just raised an eyebrow, amused. 

"How long until Misa gets jealous because someone hits on her?"

Alexia glanced at Misa, who was now frowning as she watched Cata pull you aside, pointing at something in the stadium and laughing close to you. 

"Not long, apparently," Alexia replied, trying to hold back a laugh. 

Misa tightened her grip on her water bottle, her knuckles turning white from the pressure.  "Oh boy..." Jana murmured, watching the Madrid goalkeeper’s expression darken. 

Patri sighed, shaking her head. 

"Someone should warn Y/n that she’s messing with a woman who doesn’t know how to lose."

"Or better yet..."Jana smirked mischievously. "Let her find out on her own."

As the three players chuckled under their breath, Misa finally stood up from the bench, determined to interrupt Cata’s conversation with her photographer. 

And, by the looks of it, the match hadn’t even started yet—but the most important game of the night was already underway. 

It had been exactly three years since you were hired as the official photographer for the Spanish women’s national team, and nearly six for Barcelona. Time flew by, and you felt like part of the family. The players had welcomed you warmly, especially Aitana, who always pulled you into lively conversations—and, of course, her sister Alexia made sure to include you in the little things. And then there was Misa, the Real Madrid goalkeeper, who seemed to have a special interest in you. 

You, however, never interpreted Misa’s behavior as flirting. You thought it was just her outgoing, affectionate personality. After all, Misa was like that with everyone, right? 

But that night, everything would change. 

The team had gone out for dinner after the victory, and the mood was relaxed. You moved between tables, capturing candid moments of the players, when Patri—one of Barcelona’s midfielders—approached you. 

"You should’ve taken some shots of me for my feed," Patri smiled, lightly brushing your arm. "You promised to help me update it."

You smiled back, oblivious to the sharp gaze Misa was leveling at the scene from across the room. 

"I can do that next week, Guijarro," you replied distractedly as Patri kept chatting, laughing at her own jokes and touching you at every opportunity. 

On the other side of the room, Alexia raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Aitana as they watched Misa’s fingers tighten around her glass, her jaw clenched. 

"You should be more subtle about your crush on my sister, Misa," Alexia teased, amused. "You can’t complain. You two have absolutely nothing going on."

Misa huffed, knowing her friend was right. But it was unbearable watching Patri act like she had some claim over you. 

"Does she really have to be this oblivious?" Misa grumbled, her eyes locked on the way you smiled at the Barça player. 

Aitana chuckled under her breath. 

"If you don’t do something, someone else will." 

Misa pressed her lips together. It was true. Half the Madrid team had already flirted with you, and the other half of the Barça squad wasn’t far behind. And here she was—a World Cup winner—standing frozen, just watching. 

But not anymore. 

When Patri finally said goodbye with a lingering touch on your shoulder, Misa decided tonight wouldn’t end without the answer she’d been chasing for years. 

With determined steps, she walked up to you, who was still smiling absently. 

"Y/n," Misa called, her voice deeper than usual. 

You turned, surprised by her tone. 

"Misa, hey—everything okay?" you asked, a hint of concern in your eyes. 

Misa didn’t answer. Instead, she gently took your wrist and pulled you into a quieter corner. 

"Do you really not see it?" Misa asked, her eyes burning with an intensity that made you swallow hard. 

"See… what?"

Misa exhaled, as if tired of waiting. Then, without warning, she leaned in and captured your lips in a firm but brief kiss. 

When she pulled back, your eyes were wide, your cheeks flushed. 

"That," Misa finally said. "I want that. You."

And for the first time, you realized that maybe Misa wasn’t just "affectionate with everyone" after all. 

And maybe—just maybe—she didn’t care one bit about it. 

[salem-s]

DO YOU THINK OF ME WHEN YOU HOLD HER THE SAME? ── RAFE CAMERON ONE SHOT

SYNOPSIS as Rafe dances with his new girlfriend, you can't help but stare because that's how he used to touch you, too. and Rafe? whenever he closes his eyes, he still likes to pretend he's holding you instead.

WARNINGS language, angsttttttt with a happy/hopeful ending, smoking. coooooouuuld be open to a pt 2.

WORD COUNT 6.3k.

SONG OF THE CHAPTER party 4 u by charli xcx

The remnants of Sarah's party dwindle down to the few who know her best, the music also getting the hint and slowly developing into a sweet embrace, ditching the rich EDM that coated the dance floor for how many hours.

Friends, lovers, strangers hold each other close to the songs, knowing it's nearing closing time but wanting to be embraced without having to speak for a little longer, the conversation of going home and continuing the night would have to be pushed until there's no more music left at all. 

Sarah's still in line for the bathroom talking to girls she hasn’t seen since college, but it doesn't seem like any time had passed anyway as their laughs echoed across the dance floor and into the outdoor entrance where you stand, where you smile at your friend catching up on lost years.

You let her reminisce, as you'll see her tomorrow anyway as some of those people will (probably) not see Sarah again until a wedding or other major event emerged. As the minutes dwindle down until you ride arrives, you survey the scene playing out in front of you. 

Your old friends from school, Kiara and JJ, sway on the disco-tech dance floor, though their mood does not match that of the floor’s fluorescent lights but instead reeked of grey, to which you assume they’d have to say goodbye in the morning once again.

Kiara and JJ are strange, even in college, where they would just dance and tango and sway to the music until the night ended, staying in each other’s arms until sunrise until it was time to say goodbye. Their goodbyes always seemed to linger, each wanting to say something more than their body languages could interpret but never had the courage to really articulate.

You and Sarah always predicted they’d come to their senses after graduation, realizing there's no one else on the planet made for the other person besides themselves, but the night always ends the same: in love lusted nights under the stars, spilled secrets from red wine stained lips, to ultimately say goodbye and move on with life as if their souls aren't connected. 

You pity them, as always.

Because you wish you could love someone as much as they love each other, even if they don't fully realize it. 

But your mind often wanders to one person, someone you never intend on thinking about too much due to his overwhelming arrogance and dripping sarcasm that you can't stand.

Said person is currently on the dance floor – mirroring the same love-stricken gaze as Kiara and JJ's – with someone else.

Said person is Rafe, as you hate to admit. 

But truthfully you only admitted this to yourself during a night of no sleep and lingering thoughts that haunted your normal sequence of going-to-sleep dreams.

You two had gotten in an argument a few hours before, one of your worst, because you were scared of being with him for real, for being able to hold his hand outside of your bedrooms, for the implication it carries. He'd wanted you to be his, officially, to stop dancing around your feelings and sneaking around your friends. At the time, that scared you to heights unknown.

The daunting realization that you are in love with him hits at an ungodly hour, keeping you awake and riddled with excitement and jitters and paranoia.

Before you have the chance to tell him, to bring him back under your cotton sheets where he belongs, he's already seeing someone else.

That was three months ago.

No one really bats an eye at you distancing from him and vice versa. You both openly dislike each other, and have for a long time. Your friends know of your bickering and teasing tendencies. To others, maybe it looks like hate. But your friends know that's how you communicate, that's just your friendship.

But in private together it's less of loathing and more of understanding, which you often have a hard time with when opening yourself up to the dating pool.

He's one of your roommates, for Christ’s sake, not just a profile on Hinge or a friend of a friend that seems like a good match. He replaces the dish soap if it's getting low and will fluff the pillows if he know you're having company, not that he’ll ever admit it.

You've fucked here and there in desperate times of loneliness, having to go about the next day as normal since you're still technically strangers.

But you understood each other, even when the odds are constantly stacked against you.

You'd argue about throwing the old coffee pods away that are left in the Keurig, or about the drama going on in your friends’ lives that you couldn’t admit was happening in your own: like how one of them will fuck a stranger and expect a text in the morning asking if they made it home safe, or how to ask said person on a second date without seeming too clingy, or how to reject someone asking for a second date without seeming too much like an asshole.

You and Rafe could relate too hard, your opinions coming out unconventionally during these roommate-wide discussions. Funnily, your roommates just assume you're both really getting it on with strangers, unbeknownst to the real dilemma occurring beneath cotton sheets behind closed doors, with secrets echoed over Ikea duvets and Vera Bradley blankets. 

And now, you watch him with a still gaze, an unknown rhythm setting in your heart beat.

He sways with Kristen to a slow beat, eyes closed in a melancholic feeling while touching her back, her hip, feeling her breathing.

As you stand from outside the bar, watching from the outside looking in, you can feel the beat. The rhythm. The bass of the song. You almost sway yourself, picturing yourself in Kristen’s shoes, but then you stop swaying and still very seriously. 

He’s not mine, you think. He’s not. He’s the worst. I don’t want him. I can’t.

You can’t. You shake your head at the thought, already drunk off of the tequila shots Sarah demanded be ordered by the bartender who couldn’t give less of a fuck.

You think for a single moment what would happen the moment you step in the apartment: either you'd subtly be able to bring Rafe back into your room with a hushed whisper and ghost of smile and forget all about the implications of Kristen, or you'll end up covering your ears to the distant thump, thump, thump that will echo against the thin walls and the rooms that shared alley windows.

You hear every partner Rafe brings in. You wonder if he can hear the same. 

Time seemed to still as Kristen says something in Rafe's ear. He nods off but then pulls back, almost in shock.

Then your heart sinks as he suddenly looks at Kristen with so much love and admiration that it almost kills her.

Rafe's hand cradles Kristen’s jaw, as if made from porcelain, looking at every corner of her face as if to remind himself that she’s real, before leaning in and embracing her in the sweetest kiss you can only imagine in a daydream. 

Watching for a moment, you let yourself suffer as you yearn for the way Rafe holds Kristen, as if you were guaranteed his. As if he loved you. 

Your phone is pinging, you realize.

Forcing yourself to look away, you sigh at the ground ridden with old gum and stained pavement. Your ride is here, honking, waiting for you.

What were you doing all this time? Only reminiscing on what could’ve been.

You don't wait any longer, finding the courage to look away from the sight in front of your eyes and getting inside the car.

Rafe has been holding Kristen all night, he realizes. 

Not that he fully intended to, but he feels obliged to be tethered to at least one person tonight. If it isn't going to be his roommate, Pope, it's going to be Kristen, to his dismay. 

No, no, no.

Don’t get him wrong. Kristen is great, really. She is. Kristen is the low TV glow when you’re falling asleep to whatever cartoon is showing on Adult Swim, or the dipping sunset behind the horizon that casts the hue golden streak across the sea. Kristen is great for winding down, being grounded into the earth and realizing that, hey, time doesn’t need to move that fast after all, that he’s here now and that’s what matters, not ten minutes or an hour from now. Just now. 

But Rafe still feels like something is missing.

Well, he knows what was missing but doesn't have the balls to admit it to himself. 

Rafe can't bear to look in your direction all night.

He catches a glimpse once when you aren't looking, and he curses himself for doing so because, god, do you look amazing.

But how can he even say that when he can't even gather the courage to approach you all night?

Well, for Christ’s sake, you're roommates, you see each other every day.

During the night, Pope mentions you in conversation as if you were a lingering thought, and Rafe catches himself doing a gaelic shrug as if to say, “Ah, that’s just Sweets for you.”

Huh? How would he know that’s just you? How would he know that's just Sweets, a nickname that he started because of your love for sweet treats.

You and him are just roommates. Barely acquaintances. 

But beneath tangled sheets and suppressed giggles, Rafe can't see you as an acquaintance. He can't even see you as a friend.

Rafe sees you laughing with Sarah and a man he doesn't recognize earlier and feels a pang of jealousy, remembering Kristen’s, “Ow, Rafey, why are you squeezing me so tight?” when it happens, unbeknownst to him.

How can he even feel such a way towards someone he can't even bear to approach the whole night? How can he feel such longing for someone that isn't the girl latched to him all night? Not even with someone who looks like Kristen looping around his arm all night.

You can't be intimidated, and even if you are, Rafe wouldn’t be able to tell. 

You're a mystery to him.

You'd tell him secrets in the dead of night about things he won't even write in a private journal, then act like you don't know his coffee order the next morning when offering to get the roommates some caffeine courage for their hangovers. You'd touch him in a way he’s never been touched before then act like you're getting teeth pulled when all the roommates hug goodbye to go home during the holidays.

The two of you had a mutual understanding when it comes down to the two of you alone in your quarters, tangled together in short-breathed kisses and sweet confessions against bare and freckled skin.

But when the sun comes up and the clocks reset to start anew, so do you.

Rafe could never understand why. He doesn't know what he can do to change that. 

So he stays dancing with Kristen on the staggered dance floor. Kristen always holds him tight, secure in the way she feels about him with no doubt about it. Rafe likes that about Kristen. She doesn't give a fuck about how boldly she holds him or how hard she kisses him in front of his friends. In front of you. 

No, no, no, Rafe thinks. I’m holding Kristen. Kristen. Not you. 

“Do you wanna leave soon?” You whisper in his ear. 

A low hum escaped Rafe’s throat, as if on a natural cue, unaware of the strange phenomenon that is. He relishes in the moment, picturing your doe eyes looking up at him swimmingly. 

Then he pauses. He isn't holding you. He was holding blue-eyed Kristen. Kristen. Not you. Never you. 

But suddenly, he is.

Rafe pulls back a bit harshly at the thought, preparing his speech and how he wants to go home in exhaustion from the hours of ingesting ungodly amounts of tequila and rum and vodka and whatever else is handed to him throughout the night, but instead of seeing Kristen’s bright eyes reflecting back at him, instead he sees yours looking up at him, the way you always look at him when you were at the mercy of your own solitude, full of life and curiosity and questions he never knows the answers to but wanted to know.

For you.

Those eyes, those big, doting eyes that drink him up and spit him out with a chuckle, that simultaneously embrace him with every fiber of his being and allow him to unwind and confess epiphanies that his mind only knows.

Those eyes, not Kristen’s.  

Yours. For a moment, Rafe forgets all about Kristen. 

Rafe grips you a little tighter as if to confirm you're real in his arms right now, swaying to a slow song in front of all your friends and strangers who’ll end up talking about it anyway with no regard as to who you are.

But it is. It's you.

You even twirl the ends of his hair as you always do to get your point across, and look up at him from your stature with a twinge in your brow that is nothing but promiscuous.

Evil, you are. But persuasive.

You gaze at him like no one else will, with a sense of understanding but not of pity, and with a sense of urgency for your bare bodies to meet once more without it being a big deal. Rafe laments at the thought that only you, no one else, truly know his real desires, fears, thoughts on anything he can even broach in discussion. 

He doesn't think twice about kissing you.

You.

He does have to think twice to make sure you're real in his arms right now, pressing his fingertips into your face as he caresses your cheek, as the other hand digs into your hips that he often thinks about during pillow talk.

He's sure. He has to be.

Rafe can't think about the logistics of holding Kristen moments ago to now holding you. The logistics will kill him, naturally, so he has to simply act now and suffer the critical thinking later. 

He kisses you with a newfound desire, as you're in front of all of your friends.

Who will really care if they find out, anyway? Who would really care if you and him told people you are together? No one, really.

Your dilemma was solely set inside your bubble. Rafe’s blood rushed. She’s with me, he thinks. No one else.

No one would even think about touching her, let alone talk to her, ever again. The fantasy makes him soar. 

He doesn't dare open his eyes as you pull away from him, and his heart sinks as he hears Kristen’s voice, not yours.

But Rafe still can't open his eyes, he can't face it.

Instead, he leans in again to seize the moment before it's gone, the hmmph against her lips vibrating his own, as he knows, deep down in his heart, that this isn't the reality he immersed himself in, and it breaks his damn heart.

To think it's you breaks his heart, but in other ways – for Kristen, for people who only know him as someone who doesn't linger on past bodies, for his friends who don't even know the real truth.

He sighs into Kristen’s mouth, a sigh of lament. 

For a moment, a single moment, Rafe peeks open an eye by accident, but to his dismay he's able to catch a glimpse of you – the real you – watching them from the outside for a fraction of a second before high-tailing it.

Then as soon as you appear, you disappear from his sight.

As quick as it was, Rafe will never forget the expression on your face, one that matched longing, resentment, and pain all in one glimpse, something he can't even make up in a nightmare. 

He shuts his eyes again. But he only sees you, your face, over and over and over.

This is all some sort of sick dream.

He can only image you when he closes his eyes, so he forces himself to keep them open, even when he lies awake under sheets that smell like you, Kristen sleeping by his side soundly, unaware of his inner turmoil, of the chaos in his head.

He's with Kristen, Kristen, Kristen. Shutting his eyes will make that stick, it has to.

Eventually. 

You hate how you share a wall with him.

Because there's always the anticipation of hearing him, whether he's innocently speaking on the phone or watching that weird show he made you binge with him once or having sex.

You really wish you shared a wall with Pope instead. He's quiet, neat, and doesn't bring his girlfriend over almost every night.

It's gotten to the point where you're so tense in your own bedroom, holding your breath to see when Rafe's going to start making noise and loving on her like he used to dote on you. The personalized cave, the escape from the rest of the world, no longer provides the privacy and solace you need. All because he's on the other side, careless in the way he makes noise.

Tonight only makes you restless. Because you hear nothing.

The only sound you hear is when Rafe arrives back at the apartment, Kristen in tow because you heard her muffled complaints of wanting a snack. But once he shuts his bedroom door behind them, it's radio silent.

Why isn't he doing anything?

It gnaws at you. Maybe they passed out after all the tequila shots everyone was taking earlier, especially Sarah, but you really didn't think they looked drunk while they were dancing, swaying, kissing.

You can't sleep.

The image of Rafe cradling Kristen on the dance floor plus the tension in your shoulders at the anticipation of them potentially having sex don't let you rest.

It's nearly four in the morning when you tip toe out of your room, clad in a ratty t-shirt and sleep shorts that are barely visible beneath the hem of the tee.

You're blaming your nausea on the fact that your hangover is already starting to hit, as you were trying to mix every possible liquor to attempt and forget the sight of Rafe holding Kristen how he used to hold you. Obviously, that stupid tactic does little to satisfy that need. Instead, it augments it.

Flicking a dim lamp on, you grab a glass of water and lean your elbows on the countertop, cradling the cup with nimble fingers, staring at a speck on the surface in a state of disassociation.

Every few moments, you sigh and take a small sip.

And you're so absorbed in your thoughts, feelings, grievances, that you don't hear his bedroom door creak open.

"You okay?"

You jump, nearly dropping the glass that definitely would've shattered, perking your head up to see Rafe standing in the doorway.

His hair is tousled, as if he had been tossing and turning as well, and eyes bleary as if he's been rubbing at them all night. He blinks heavily once, twice, adjusting to the low light. Granted, he looks rough. Although, you can't guarantee you look any better.

Despite it all, your heart skips a beat at the sight of him.

Though you swallow the lump in your throat. "Yeah. Jus' couldn't sleep."

Because of you, you almost say. Because I lost you.

You hope that's enough to deter him, to have him simply nod and saunter off to bed since you're not his responsibility anymore.

But to your horror, he slowly enters the kitchen, leaning on the opposite side of the counter as you.

"Me neither," is all he says, quiet and hoarse and pained. "Was gonna have a smoke."

You only hum in response, drifting your gaze back down the water, studying the ripples and the curve of the glass, anything to avoid looking at his deep blue eyes that always make you stumble over your words.

"Wanna join?"

There was a point in your life where that was a given, where he didn't even have to ask because you simply understood each other without speaking. It became a little weekly ritual, you and him, where you'd precariously climb onto the fire escape you're not supposed to go on and pass a joint back and forth, talking about nothing and everything.

But now you hesitate to respond, because obviously things are not the way they used to be. Because you're not sure you can sit shoulder to shoulder with him without breaking down over months lost.

Although your body betrays you, because you nod before you speak.

Rafe seems a little surprised, but masks it well by reciprocating your nod, pushing himself off the counter to dig through his bag that lays limp next to the coffee table, pulling out the encased joint accompanied with a lighter.

You follow timidly, wringing your fingers together as you watch him walk to the window, unlatching it and opening it slowly to not alert anyone else of your little endeavor.

Half of you waits for his usual ladies first, his signature low drawl that always left a pool of warmth in your belly, but it never comes. Instead he climbs through before you, disappearing into the dark and no doubt sitting in the spot you used to sit in, since you always climbed through first.

Swallowing the insinuation, you follow suit quietly, wincing slightly at the cool air before settling down on the harsh crate platform.

As you get comfortable, your shoulder brushes his and it feels like electricity.

You subtly shuffle away.

If Rafe feels it too, you would never know given his nonchalance, simply focused on lighting the pre-rolled joint and taking the first couple of hits. He puffs it once, twice, taking long inhales and exhaling as if he's had a long day at the office.

You let yourself gaze at him for a few moments, taking in the way he takes hits while peering out onto the skyline. Oh, how badly you want to reach forward and trace the ridges of his jaw and the slope of his nose with your finger as you once used to do as a second nature, and let your touch roam over the grooves and beauty marks on his body like topography on a map. Gentle, appreciative, curious.

More often than not, you wonder if he misses the way you'd let him touch you almost experimentally. How he'd skin over the worry lines on your forehead or over the pillowy skin of your tummy, tracing over scars you got as a clumsy kid and kissing them as you recounted the stories.

Rafe's handing you the joint before you can daydream further.

With nimble fingers, you accept, careful to not let your fingers brush his.

"Remember the one time Pope came out here with us," he starts quietly as you take your first drag, "and it was so foggy he thought the Felipe's sign was the moon?"

You smile lazily through your exhale of smoke. "And then he never smoked out here ever again."

Rafe laughs boyishly and you forget how much you love the sound.

"He's so fuckin' stupid," he murmurs endearingly, accepting the joint when you hand it back to him. "Can recite pi but thought chateau Mormont was trapdoor mama."

You snort, already feeling a little hazy. After a moment, you sigh as if you have all the time in the world. "Funny."

Letting your gaze drift onto the skyline again, you study the handful of lights that stick out like sore thumbs throughout the city, wondering what those people could be doing at this hour.

Eventually, in your peripheral, you sense Rafe handing the joint back to you.

Wordlessly accepting, you take another long hit, desperately trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes boring into your profile, almost waiting for you to speak, to say something, to address the elephant in the room.

You can't. You won't.

Instead, you mask the silence with the smoke and a hoarse voice. "I saw Trevor the other day, said to say hi."

All Rafe does is hum.

You continue. "Him and Aiden are still together, by the way. He says he wants to do another movie marathon with everyone, so he'll probably text you about that in the next few days."

The words hang thick in the air at his lack of response, dissipating like fog in the night as the smoke disappears into the night. You don't expect him to say much, since he probably knows you're delaying the inevitable and dancing around the sore subject that weighs you down. You wonder if he'll ever bring it up, because you certainly won't. Not while he's still dating Kristen.

Rafe's never been the one for emotional intimacy, you had to teach him it's okay to open up once in a while, it's good to have tough conversations and learn how to navigate using your words to convey your feelings, rather than just actions. You did it all under cotton sheets with entangled limbs. You taught him how to feel.

Without looking at him, you hand the dwindling joint back to him. After a moment of stillness on his part, still staring at you almost in disbelief, he takes it.

But he doesn't hit it. He lets the joint burn smoke into the night at his side.

"Are we ever going to be okay again?"

His words make your breath hitch and keep your gaze on the skyline, anywhere but at him. It doesn't do much to soothe your nerves, though, because you still feel his iron stare.

"We're okay now," you offer meekly.

Rafe's response is immediate. "No, we're not."

You can't decide if you want to scream or cry or simply shut down.

Yes, you were the one who said you couldn't do a relationship right now, the one who wanted to keep your intimate nights together a secret for a little while longer, just long enough for you to get your shit together. You were afraid of the implications of having him, all of him, all the time. It's a big responsibility to bear, to carry, to endure.

He's the one who took that has breaking up (can you even break up with someone if you were never really together?). He's the one who mistook your deferral as rejection, and distanced himself almost immediately after that night.

The night you realized you loved him.

And the next day when he started seeing Kristen. And everyday after that.

So you're not really sure what he wants from you right now.

"We're roommates," you whisper, almost as if it's sin, "that's all."

Rafe scoffs. "Not even friends?"

You only shrug. "A little."

You really can't bring yourself to meet his eyes, that still bore into your profile almost pleadingly.

"Why are you being like this?"

You almost want to laugh in his face. Nearly, you do, because you snort quietly and gently shake your head, almost in disbelief at his genuine confusion. Because he should know.

Rafe Cameron is many things. An idiot is not one of them.

"Why the fuck are you laughing?" Rafe asks angrily, low and unbridled. "It isn't funny."

It is, you want to say. In an ironic way.

But you know better than to mess with him, so you bite your tongue.

"I'm not..." You try and find the right words. "...being anything. We weren't really friends before, so we aren't now."

"Before..?" Rafe drawls out slowly, calculated. "Before what? Before we started fucking? Before you broke up with me? Before Kristen? What's before?"

You furrow your brows. "I didn't break up with you."

His answer is immediate. "You did."

"We were never even together."

"You said you didn't want to date me."

Your hands relentlessly pick at your nail beds. "I never said that. I said I needed time. I never said no."

"How was I supposed to know that?" Then, he huffs. "God, will you fucking look at me?"

And when you do, everything stops moving altogether.

His blue eyes are glossed with something you can’t decipher, perhaps teetering between desperation and disbelief and maybe a hint of sadness. The implication behind them, that this whole thing has wrecked him too, makes you feel a little better (suffer in solidarity, right?) but also weighs you down, a kettlebell settling in your gut.

You should look away. Really, you should.

But you can’t. You’re frozen in your gaze, darting between his eyes and gaping your mouth like a fish, unable to find the words you should say. You know what you shouldn’t say, those three words that have rendered you a mess these past few months.

“Why’d you have to bring it up?” You ask so quietly, more broken and smaller than you intend. “It was fine.”

“It isn’t fine,” he says even softer, despite the firm tone he holds. “You’re not fine.”

You find the gall to scoff.

Rafe, of course, has to comment on it. “Don’t sit here and act like you are. You can play that bullshit with Pope and Sarah but not with me.” Then, softer. “Never with me.”

“You have a girlfriend now,” you find yourself saying before you can catch yourself. “So I’m gonna have to be fine.”

That makes him falter, sucking in a breath he doesn’t anticipate as he stares down at you, this shriveled, careless, fragmented version of the person he used to know.

He blinks heavily once, twice, as if in disbelief. The joint has long gone out, sitting idly between his fingers since he can’t find the strength to ash it properly or flick it over the railing. All he does is stare at you. Ingest your words. Study your face.

Normally, it would make you squirm. But now, all you do is stare back, caught in a limbo since you know there’s nothing you can do right now. Nothing will progress further because he has her holding him back, she’ll always stand between them of what could or couldn’t be.

“You broke up with me,” he repeats, almost like a mantra that he needs to remind himself of.

You shake your head. “I didn’t.” Your fight holds no backbone, frankly you’re tired and your heart is aching harder than it has in a long time. “All I needed was more time.”

“More time to, what?” He asks, almost desperate.

“More time to only be yours.” The words feel easy. “To just be us without the anxiety of telling everyone.”

He looks at you as if the wind’s been knocked out of him, taking in your words to imprint on his skin, to learn them and study them to understand the true debacle of what went down all those months ago.

"I never stopped loving you."

As much as you’ve been dying to hear those words finally directed at you, the moment is anticlimactic. If anything, it only makes you sadder.

"I don't know if I can trust that,” you say quietly, tired.

Rafe looks at you like you've grown three heads, flickers of surprise and hurt glossing his pretty eyes. After all those nights you spent spilling secrets followed by kisses in the sanctuary of his room, pressing your lips against his scars and beauty marks and mapping regions on his body he’d never thought to love on, teaching him how to see the world differently, as a friend and not a foe. All for you not to trust him.

That breaks his fucking heart, you can tell. You’ve always prided him on how he wears his heart so boldly on his sleeve, but now it’s only to your detriment.

"You don't trust me?” Rafe murmurs so gently, so hurt, that you swallow the lump in your throat. “After everything we've... You don't trust me?"

The question should be simple. Should be a quick yes or no. But, of course, your brain won’t allow an easy way out like that.

You raise a brow. "I don't know, Rafe. One minute, you're telling me you love me, and then the next day you're dating someone else. What am I supposed to think?”

Rafe’s hand clenches so hard it turns white. “I thought you didn’t want me. I thought if I did that, then…

He trails off, but you have an idea of what he’s going to say. But you want to hear it anyway.

“Then, what?”

His eyes are boring into yours so intensely it hurts. “Then I thought I’d get over you.”

You frown. “That’s not fair.”

“I know.”

“I mean, you did it the day after you said that. The day after I—“

The day after I realized I loved you, you want to say. But you can’t.

You pause, sucking in a breath to avoid speaking it into existence, because if you say those three words aloud right now, to him, you’re doing no one any favors. You’re homewrecking, complicating things, making it all crumble. Granted, you should’ve said it long ago, but things are different now.

“The day after you want?” Rafe pleads, and it makes you shake your head, silencing yourself. He doesn’t like that, though, and urges you again by saying your name so fucking achingly. “Please, tell me.”

“I can’t,” you remind yourself, pained. “You’re with Kristen.”

“I don’t care,” he says immediately. “Answer.”

You frown. “It’s not fair to her.”

Rafe shakes his head. “I know. I know it’s not, fuck, none of it is, but I’m going to lose my mind here if you don’t say what you—“

“It was the day I realized I loved you too, okay?”

You almost say it out of irritation, because you know he’s only going to keep asking if you don’t answer. It’s in his nature to get what he wants, and he gets annoying when he doesn’t obtain the knowledge, object, or thing he desires. He’ll only keep hounding you if you don’t nip it in the bud.

Although you wish you hadn’t said it. Because then you’d never see the expression on his face right now, one that looks like he just got fucking stabbed in the chest.

“You love me?” He whispers.

Finally, finally you find the urge to look away from him, back to the skyline to avoid the discourse.

“It doesn’t matter now,” you respond in the cool air. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“But you love me?” Rafe repeats slowly, almost in disbelief.

Cursing yourself internally, you nod, only looking out onto the city.

He huffs out an exhale next to you, slumping against the brick exterior of your apartment building, matching your gaze and staring out onto the horizon, still trying to catch his breath and let his mind catch up to his heart.

And you sit like that, in the silence of each other’s company, unable to look at the other and simply bear the weight of the prior conversation, of its implications and heartfelt truths. The quiet could last for five minutes or five years, you’d never know the difference because it feels elongated yet condensed at the same time.

You could go inside. You really should, and leave this exchange behind you. But you can't seem to move, because frankly you've been yearning to sit this close to him for so long, and you figure you're going to be selfish, just for a few more minutes.

You swear his shoulder brushes with yours at one point.

After you twitch, body turned to start heading inside, he speaks.

“I’m ending it with her.”

That makes your head spin to him in surprise, brows furrowed and slightly panicked.

“I didn't mean to—“ you start.

But he interrupts you, sure of himself. “No, I am. It’s not…fair to her, I know. But it’s worse to keep seeing her when all I can think about is how you love me too.”

The words are spoken so nonchalantly yet it makes your heart thump. He says it so easily, as if it hasn't been weighing him down.

You feel evil. Your mind flickers back to Kristen, sweet, unknowing Kristen who's sleeping inside, perhaps dreaming of him. Kristen who shared her lemonade with you when you dropped yours at the farmer's market last month. Kristen who probably picked up on your and Rafe's history and still treats you like a friend. Kristen who will ask how your day is and beam when you ask about hers.

"I'm sorry," is all you can say, mainly to Kristen, who obviously isn't here right now.

Rafe doesn't know that, though, and shakes his head. "She'll understand. She keeps telling me I talk about you too much, anyway."

You reel. "What?"

All he does is shrug, as if it means nothing. "I think part of her always knew. I never meant to, I just...do, I guess."

There are so many things running through your mind right now, a kaleidoscope of theories and conspiracies pertaining to that one simple sentence, but you can't bring yourself to respond, half wanting to scold him for treating her like that and half curious as to what he would say.

"I'll make it right," says Rafe quietly, almost to himself. "The whole thing is fucked, but I'm going to make it right with her."

That makes you feel a little better, despite the guilt wavering in your chest. "You better. She's great."

Rafe stifles a laugh, pushing the hair off his forehead, almost a tension relief. "Yeah, she is. But she ain't you."

"Oh my god, that is horrible."

"What? It's true."

"Shut up. Please shut up."

Your tone is firm, but you can't help the sheepish smile that ghosts your lips, facing away from him to hide it. But, of course, he notices, letting out a small huff of a laugh.

After a moment, you move to go inside again but his words stop you.

"I'm gonna put in the work."

You halt, slowly turning to face him with your brows pinched in confusion as you stare at him, only to discover him staring right back at you, all undertones of humor gone and replaced with something serious, something determined.

"I will earn you," he says, clarifying. "I don't expect things to go back to the way they were, obviously. But I want to try. I'm going to try. First, I'll make it right. with Kristen, and then I'm going to make it right with you."

Perhaps it's the certainty of his tone that makes your heart skip. Maybe it's sadness at the thought of Kristen's feelings. Or it could be how pretty his eyes look right now boring into yours, eyes that have never held such determination until this very moment.

Whatever the reason it may be, all you do is nod, murmuring a quiet yet sincere, "Okay," before climbing through the window, leaving him alone in the night.

© salem-s works please do not copy or replicate my work without permission. mdni.

notes legit im sorry kristen?????

[dovesdreaming]

Harry hook relationship headcanons

This wasn’t requested but I wanted to post something to do with descendants and I haven’t finished any of my requests yet!

Not edited yet

Warnings: none

Once he knew you were single would be chasing after you like a dog to a bone.

-he’s quite naturally flirty, everything that comes out of his mouth seems to have a flirtatious undertone.

-despite people seeing him as dumb I think he’s quite observant and can read people very well. Is very in tune with your emotions and can always tell when you’re down. Though he isn’t the best at comforting but he’s willing to work on it.

-uses his hook a lot. He knows you find it attractive and uses it to his advantage. Would lift your chin with it and run it down your cheek.

-loves eye contact. Will never break eye contact with you and when he’s first getting to know you he uses it against you to make you flustered. He loves knowing he has that kind of effect on you and will always try to make you flustered around him.

-once he’s dating you will never leave you alone. I believe one of his love languages is quality time as he was never shown any other kind of love. He constantly wants to be in your presence which you don’t mind.

-it isn’t that he doesn’t like physical touch it is just something he has to become familiar with after being starved of it for many years. You start off slow together with hand holding and gradually grew more touchy with each other. He now loves hugging you and cuddling. I think he is actually quite fond of being the little spoon or lying on top of you because it makes him feel surrounded by love.

-while he doesn’t show much pda he is prone to flirting with you in public and he doesn’t care who hears it. He proudly and unashamedly flirts with you.

-is protective of what he loves because he doesn’t have many things like that. Harry would be ready to pick a fight with anyone who flirts or gets to close to you, he just can’t help it, he doesn’t want to lose you.

-this makes him a very jealous person. Will always think the worst of a situation and won’t always be the angry jealous. He could interpret the person flirting with you as you thinking he wasn’t enough for you which definitely isn’t true. This leaves him sulking until you reassure him with many kisses and whispers in his ear. Depending on the day he could react completely opposite and just walk right up to the interaction and lay his hands all over you to send a clear message to whoever is eyeing you up. He will drag you away from the interaction if he has to .

-deep into the relationship he becomes clingy and will want to spend every waking moment in your presence, preferably your arms.

-would find it odd if you got along with your parents but if your parents accepted him it would definitely help heal some of the deep rooted trauma within him,

-he will still try to act tough and intimidating to those around him but once you walk over to him he just turns to mush, the complete opposite of what he was trying to make himself out to be. He goes from staring down the people he’s talking to and then turns to you with the biggest smile. People soon catch on and tease him about it but he just lets them because he can’t deny the truth of how you make him feel.

Thank you for reading!

[pennylaneforthoughts]

It's just so narratively crunchy that Spite writes poetry as his chosen form of self expression. Especially given that he clearly struggles to communicate with the people around him, the fact that he writes poetry in the scant moments he has command of Lucanis's hands really cements other textual indicators that Spite is frustrated by his difficulty with communicating. Over and over again he asks to talk to Rook, to be heard, but when he does get the chance to talk, he isn't understood, which must be unbelievably frustrating for the poor guy. So he practices! In writing! And that writing gives such a neat look into Spite's mind and how he conceptualizes himself and his situation. So I'm gonna dust off my English degree and yell about his poetry.

1.

a PEACE

cut from the ALL

golden stranded weaves

PROTECTION CAGE

keep them OUT

keep me IN

As with all poetry, there's a lot of room to interpretation, and I think that's especially intentional for Spite's worldview as a spirit. He's from the Fade, which operates on perception and emotion instead of concrete immutabilities like the material world. That being said, I think this first poem is Spite trying to process and talk about a.) his own violent summoning from the Fade and b.) Lucanis's mental Ossuary.

Spite was ripped from the Fade against his will, a piece of a larger infinity cut and captured. Likewise, Lucanis creates the Ossuary in his mind as a (poor) coping mechanism for dealing with what happened. Spite recognizes this as an attempt to create peace in emotional turmoil.

The golden stranded weaves evoke the imagery used in the narration explaining how the dagger cuts through the Veil. It's visually represented as gold geometric lines separating the Fade from the material world, which may be a hint to how spirits see the Veil: a barrier made of gold strands that has also stranded Spite from the world he knew. Given that Lucanis's mind Ossuary is also a part of the Fade, this same barrier applies here as well, stranding him and Spite from the freedom they seek.

The Veil and the mental Ossuary therefore function as what Spite calls a "protection cage," designed both to keep its occupants safe and keep them contained. Arguably, Spite could also be talking about the magic that keeps him bonded to Lucanis, magic that is likely similar in nature to how the Veil works given that blood magic is what sustains both. Protecting Spite and Lucanis from being hurt further by the Venatori but also keeping Spite from going home. He's stuck in Lucanis whether he likes it or not. This is further complicated by the mental Ossuary, which Lucanis has unconsciously constructed to keep the people he loves out of harm's way (protecting them) while also keeping Spite trapped.

This is Spite's first cry for help. He recognizes that he is trapped in multiple ways: he is forced to share a body that aggressively does not want to share with him, and the part of the Fade that Lucanis is connected to mentally is also a prison, one that does not respond like Spite would normally expect the Fade to respond. Lucanis mentions in Sea of Blood that "The Fade does whatever a spirit wants. Real walls and chains, not so much," but Spite tells Rook in Inner Demons that he can't touch the locks in Lucanis's mind despite it technically being a part of the Fade. My personal theory is it has something to do with the blood magic that bound them together in the first place, but regardless of why, it's understandably extremely frustrating for Spite to feel trapped both in the material world and the Fade, neither of which respond to him as he expects. To Spite, it must feel like the very laws of physics have stopped working as they should.

2.

scentsing the BEYOND

rememburnings from before

when one was infinity

not a small shade

not a SHARP hooked claw

in a gut

takemeouttakemeoutletmeout

riiiiip

Here we get to see how Spite has been learning to use language to artistically express complex abstract ideas, which speaks to him having mature, adult intelligence, given that abstract thought is a marker of higher-order cognition. In this poem, Spite is no longer simply describing his situation as he is in the first poem, he is self-reflecting and forming his own identity.

It's clear in this first line and in several points throughout the game that Spite's favorite sense is smell, possibly because it is a sense that he can unintrusively access and therefore isn't barred by Lucanis. So he is not just sensing, he is specifically "scentsing" what he calls "the BEYOND," likely the Fade, referencing his ability to pull things from it (especially considering that the little icon on an accessible spot says "a sense of something").

But he's not just talking about the Fade as a place, he's reminiscing of the Fade as a time. But the portmanteau he uses here, "rememburnings" suggests an attempt to explain the emotion he associates with this remembrance. The memory is painful. It burns. It hurts him. He remembers being a part of the Fade, being part of "infinity," and now he is only a "small shade" of what he once was.

But that's not all. He's also demonstrating that he understands how Lucanis perceives him, sees that he is hurting Lucanis. He knows that he was force-fed to Lucanis (quite literally according to his banter with Bellara where he says it happened when "They fed me something. Like he was a parasite in uncooked meat."), which explains why Spite conceptualizes himself as being a foreign, damaging object "in a gut." And, importantly, he doesn't take satisfaction from that. The tone he is using here suggests grief and desperation, especially the "takemeouttakemeoutletmeout." He wants to be free, yes, but he also wants to stop being an object of pain. And yet the last line suggests that Spite knows that separation would also be painful. It would be another ripping, because he is a claw now. As much as he is trapped by Lucanis, he is embedded in him as well, and extraction would tear them both apart.

3.

toes wiggle

when he drinks the brew

a small shade

and a wounded spirit

sitting

there is STILL

we are still

there is an INFINITE

there is a SHELTER

there is a STORM outside the center

UGH Spite your MIND!!! This poem makes me want to cry fr. It's so much more concrete than the other two, showing how he's becoming more familiar and comfortable with Lucanis's body and the material world. The tone is gentle, like a relieved sigh, with none of the urgency and desperation of the others. This is the first time we see Spite describe a physical sense other than smell. He notes that Lucanis wiggles his toes when he drinks his favorite coffee, suggesting that this is something Spite feels as an occupant of the same body, though he likes to manifest himself as separate. It confirms that he feels what Lucanis feels through shared senses, though has his own interpretations of sensory input.

Spite still conceptualizes himself as a "small shade," but no longer is he a "SHARP hooked claw." He is still hurt, still affected by what he and Lucanis went through, but he now sees Lucanis as more than the body he's trapped in. He sees Lucanis as a fellow "wounded spirit," hurting and healing in the same way that he is. They are sitting together, feeling together, and they have found stillness. They've finally made peace.

While he may no longer be a part of the Fade as he once was, Spite has found that being and living with Lucanis is another "INFINITE" that he gets to experience. He is safe, sheltered in their bond. It's no longer a cage. It's just protection now. And while Spite can feel the absolute mess that's going on with the world and the Fade and everything they're dealing with, he is centered now with Lucanis, which makes it all manageable.

All this leads me to believe that after Inner Demons and their little coffee date with Rook, Spite and Lucanis are at a point in their relationship where Lucanis is much more accommodating of Spite and where Spite is able to explore and experience the material world with a certain level of patience. He no longer feels like he has to bully Lucanis into letting him pilot because he understands physical space now and can experience things alongside Lucanis as he experiences them. Lucanis is more confident letting Spite speak through him because he's no longer worried Spite will wrest complete control from him and/or do something to hurt them. As Lucanis says in the final romance scene, they're no longer afraid. Lucanis now trusts Spite's reports about what happened and how much time has passed while he was asleep, which suggests that Spite has earned that trust.

At this point, the line between demon of Spite and spirit of Determination seems extremely blurry at best, and it really makes me wonder if gaining a physical body through means other than normal possession allows spirits to develop more complex cognition and emotional versatility beyond just their purpose.

[sunkissedchld]

𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

𝐀𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

observations are mostly based on charts shared in @d4rkpluto’s astrotumblr yearbook discord! thank you to the following people for sharing their charts:

@starsworldd @evangelinesbible @saturnianprincess @saintfool @modellemode @icanseethefuture333 @ibecookin

disclaimer: i interpret charts in whole sign

asteriod aphrodite is code 1388

⟡ aries sun could make you relatively confindent in their looks; you could be very passionate and/or dominant in relationships or want to lead your partner in some way

✦  in the 3H could make you quick-witted or smart mouthed

⟡ aries saturn could cause you to be hyper independent therefore causing potential partners to feel unwanted

⟡ taurus moons could enjoy being spoiled/pampered while in relationships; acts of service and gift giving could be your love language

⟡ gemini venus could be attracted to those who are witty, educated/logical, and/or like to debate. you could also like people who are a little unserious and those with large friend groups

⟡ for gemini mars, arms/hands can be turn ons. you could be a friendly flirt; not necessarily open to making the first move; could enjoy a cat and mouse game or playing hard to get

⟡ gemini saturn could have issues with communication in relationships - being "too" open or not open enough and/or not taking your partner seriously during times where you need to

✦  in retrograde, you could think too much about your own or your partners actions in the relationship; you could talk yourself into a bad mood which could carry over into the relationship causing insecurities and/or jealousy

⟡ gemini risings could be seen as friendly, approachable, and smart upon first impression; people could be drawn to your eyes and smile; people could also enjoy hearing you speak

⟡ cancer saturns could possibly be manipulative in relationships (if underdeveloped); you could put more into relationships than you get out of them or not put in enough effort; you could be overly attatched to your partner

⟡ leo/aquarius risings/venuses could have the most unique styles fashion wise

✦ for leos, people could try to imitate your style. for aquariuses, you might have your own sub-genre or self-described sense of style that is unique to you

⟡ leo jupiters could gain fame, confidence, and/or attention from their relationships

✦ heavier emphasis or likelihood if you also have leo degrees

⟡ leo saturns could have issues with confidence and/or receiving attention while in a relationship; you could want too many affirmations or never accept them when they're given

⟡ leo venuses/mars could be attracted to those who are confident and/or famous or well-known; also possibly attracted to people who are creative and playful; a partner's back and/or hair could be a turn-on

⟡ virgo venuses/mars could be attracted to those who are healthy and/or biological displays of health; a partner's stomach or abs could be a turn on; you could prefer when sex is semi-planned and/or could be prone to overextending yourself during sex; you could prefer being a giver rather than a receiver

✦ conversely, i think taurus venuses/mars would be more receivers than givers

⟡ virgo suns could be seen as "traditional beauties"; you could also be drawn to traditional relationships/relationship dynamics

✦ these ideas of "tradition" would be based on where you are from/your societal norms; there is no one, unified "tradition"

⟡ libra risings could have facial features that are proportionate to your own face; possibly described as ingeniune/gamine type; skin could often be clear or seen as nice

⟡ those with libra mars could see your partner's skin/hips/butt/lower back as turn ons and/or their partner touching those areas of your body could turn them on; you could be attracted to those who are charming and considerate; you could like it when you're "wined and dined" so to speak

⟡ scorpio suns could have an alluring/intense look; your eyes and/or sexual organs could could be seen as attractive; you could want intensity when it comes to romance and sex; you could be into "taboo" relationships; you could possibly be possessive or prone to jealousy in relationships

⟡ scorpio venuses could be attracted to those who are protective over them; major cravings for intamacy and closeness while in a relationship; "i want to be inside of you"

✦ in retrograde, achieving these wants in a relationship could soothe your personal emotions and repair your own emotional needs

⟡ scorpio jupiters could have their sex life increased while in a relationships; possibility of going through more transformations (especially intense ones) while in relationships; possibly being more secretive

⟡ scorpio risings could have an intense gaze; your beauty could be intimidating to some people, but you still manage to draw people in to being fascinated by you

⟡ capricorn chiron/liliths could detest being in "traditional" relationships or being expected to follow through with "traditional" relationship dynamics; could have a want for a little bit of instability

⟡ capricorn moons could value stability and successes in relationships; anniversaries and planned dates could bring you comfort

⟡ capricorn mars could be attracted to those who are older and/or more mature; people with strong bone structures/hair could be turn-ons; could also be attracted to people who are cautious and/or "traditional"

⟡ aquarius risings make you an eccentric beauty; smile and/or calves could be an attractive point; you could be ahead of fashion trends

⟡ aquarius chiron/liliths could worry about your relationships being seen as odd or "taboo"

⟡ those with sun conjunct mercury could entice people with your voice or way of speaking; you could be known as a sweet talker

⟡ those with a fifth house stellium could be very fertile

✦ having many trines to jupiter could also be an indicator

⟡ 12H junos could find that marriage transforms them (ie. in capricorn, you could go from being someone who is always wanting to go places or never wanting to settle down to maturing and finally doing so)

⟡ 8H jupiters could gain money from shared resources in relationships; could also have hyper active sex lives

⟡ 3H moons could have words of affirmation be your love language

⟡ those with their ascendant at 5º could have people who are very sexually attracted to you; you could always gain attention even if you don't always want or notice it

⟡ 6H moons could value acts of service as your love language

✦ even more so if it's also cancer moon

⟡ 11H jupiters could find your friend group grows when getting into relationships

⟡ 1H junos could find that marriage changes people's perception of you; you could also gain/lose weight while in relationships (ie. libra ascendants would likely gain weight; be seen as more playful and/or charming)

⟡ 5H junos could find marriage makes you more creative; children could be a focal point of the marriage; marriage could also cause you to be more intune with your inner child

⟡ 4H moons may find that emotional connections in relationships bring you comfort; touch could be your love language

⟡ 12H moons could long for being in long-term relationships; there could be a want for a "soulmate" or "other half"

⟡ 2H moons could have gift giving as your love language; doing daily routines with your partner could bring you comfort

⟡ 2H jupiters could see an increase in their personal money/possessions while in relationships

⟡ 9H jupiters could gain more knowledge while in relationships; you could also travel more or have more experiences with things or people who are foreign to you

⟡ 11H moons could value time spent together ; thinking about the future and bringing together friend/family groups could bring you comfort while in relationships

⟡ 8H saturn/liliths could have an aversion to sharing resources in relationships; having a "what's mine is mine" mentality

[glossoholicc]

Gotta regret em' all!

(read bellow for more insight/comments about these!!)

Ouuggghh my GOD the universe did not want me to create these. I started Folly darkrai, then got sick with a nasty cold that I am still recovering from. THEN I get the most painful ear infection ever. The last image was made while I was in physical agony. I cried real tears.

Regardlessss... I really love Pokemon and Regretevator. My brain has been hardwired since the ripe ol' age of 4 to be obsessed with Pokemon. Every fandom I touch I think about trainer AUs or what Pokemon characters would be. So... this was inevitable. Everything I touch becomes Pokemon.

For those only following me for Regretevator, Roblox fandoms yanked me out of my Pokemon branding for everything. Which was good, i think. I used to represent myself with my fave mon, Maractus. Now I am my Roblox avatar. Ripe ol' age of 20 and all I do is roblock. amen.

I wanted to also write an extensive explanation for why EVERY character here is the Pokemon they are. Mostly because I know there will be people disagreeing with me (which is fine), but the goblin in my brain says "nooo people need to understand you 100% all the time". Sooo, here is a horrendously long essay about why I am objectively correct and you should trust me with all Pokemon related content ever (slash silly?). Does a lil' jigggggg.

(Basic Pokemon knowledge may be required to understand these things btw)

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

Folly Darkrai

- Obvious reason Folly would be a darkrai is that darkrai represents nightmares. It can cause those its near to have terrible dreams, and its signature move is Dark Void which puts enemies to sleep. Pair this with its ability, Bad Dreams, any opponent on the field that is asleep will take continuous damage.

- Darkrai is also illusive, and feared. It holds a similar energy to Folly. That energy being big bad scary oooo ahh scary.

- Literally the exact same color scheme as Folly. Similar shape language as well (big claws, jagged black bits, big evil eyeball, and a collar)

- Darkrai are interpreted as evil by characters within Pokemon media, but it is canon that they cannot control the nightmare giving aura they have. They can give others nightmares unintentionally, and aren't blood thirsting or villainous by nature. I feel this is a good nod towards Folly being in a similar boat. She can't help the situation she is in, and wasn't born evil.

Design Notes:

- I LOOOVE DARKRAI AND I LOOOVE FOLLY. she needed to be a pokemon I adore.

- The sweater was awkward to add onto her... because darkrai's body is already supposed to be like. a scary cloth. and they are so bulky. but I think I did okay?

- The hat looks awkward but I didn't include it that would have been messed up.

- nothing cool to say about dreamer she is just cutesy and rounder shapes.

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

Great One Xerneas

- Xerneas is a legendary Pokemon which represents life. It creates forests with its powers, and it can go into a "dormant" form where it is literally a white tree. Xerneas, and its counterpart, Yveltal, are not represented as inherently "good" or "evil". The whole deal with them is that life and death are a delicate balance that should be respected. I feel this was fitting because Great One is also a god, gave life to Folly, and became corrupt from jealously. Yeah I think that would disturb the natural balance of shit if the god of life got messed up.

- It is literally a big tree deer idk man.

Design Notes:

- I am sooo proud of this design... I think I cooked! Not much to say besides my friend said it looked like a old pokemon creepypasta and that is true.

- Xerneas is so fun to draw but antlers. suck. ewie.

- The drawing on the far right is inspired by that one screenshot.

- Hard to see but on the far right drawing I included the stomach wound. Didn't do it on the other fullbodies though because I forgot oops.

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

MR Minior

- Minior is a meteor pokemon which has two forms. In its ability "Shields Down", where it has a rocky, outer shell that protects it until it's HP gets too low. Once it is weakened, it will change into its "Core Form". Which is basically a cute little guy. But MR Minior is trapped in its "Meteor Form". Meteors relate to MR because of the Happy Home Party floor where MR summons meteors yay.

- Minior are very pathetic pokemon, they fall from the stratosphere only to die on earth. I feel this is similar to MR in the way like. MR is dead and pathetic in its currently state. Compared to what it previously was anyways.

- Minior literally descends from the heavens. Something something word play MR dead god blagh blah.

Design Notes:

- Minior already had eye holes on its design, but I used the cracks throughout its body to make the forehead hole and mouth. I think it was done decently well!

- If MR did go into "Core Form" I imagine it would just be whatever Regretevator devs intend MR's living form to be.

- Minior is so cute and round. I think MR is kinda cute in a round plushie squishmallow kind of way.

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

Pest Lokix

- Okay this one is purely based off of aesthetic but HEAR ME OUT.

- Lokix is a locust/grasshopper pokemon inspired by Kamen Rider, a japanese superhero franchise. Multiple characters in Kamen Rider have grasshopper/bug motifs. Pest is Japanese and also a bug. Ive connected the dots so good.

- Lokix is the first ever bug/dark type, and Pest would definitely being this typo combo.

- Idk guys just trust me okay

Design Notes:

- LOOOOK I KNOWWW. Pest is a beetle. Heracross is right there. BUT Heracross doesn't give PEST. Heracross is a round little blue guy and Pest is a weird little freak. Heracross doesn't hold the same intimidating aura as Lokix. And the other beetle pokemon, Rellor and Rabsca, are even further off the mark.

- I thought I was so clever having the antennae form mandible shapes.

- I love Lokix so much. Pest gets to be one of my faves as a treat.

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

Poob Pikachu

- Pikachu is the mascot for Pokemon, and Poob is the mascot for Regretevator! In a way, Poob is in a lot of promotional regretevator material.

- Very similar color pallet and vibes. The vibes being "little guy".

- Something could be said for pikachu being an electric type. In the pokemon franchise, electric types are typically associated with being "wild" and "fun". Poob is electric! Personality wise. And Poob would totally hook themselves up to shit they shouldn't.

- Social butterfly, Poob gets their energy from parties. Just like how Pikachu is shown to be able to absorb electricity and shit.

- Just cute. Thats it. Cute marketable guy.

Design Notes:

- I really like what I did with the ears on this. I like them being droopy... because of the hat.

- Poob's goofy little face looks natural on a Pikachus face, I think. Awesome sauce.

- I made the tail tip a half star shape because A: Poob genderless B: Party hat has stars. For those who dont know, pikachu have different tail tip shapes based on gender. Poobs gender is party!

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

Pilby Caterpie

- Guys do I need to explain this one.

- Caterpie is a caterpillar. A green one! Pilby is also a green caterpillar.

- Pilby and caterpie have eyes meant to cry. That one clip from the anime where caterpie has watery wet eyes is Pilby.

- Caterpie is a small little thing and Pilby is also a small little thang.

Design Notes:

- I made the little horn in the front the color of their hair because I didn't want to add even more clutter to the face.

- Headcanon that happy Pilby sways/wags their tail when happy. So caterpie pilby gets to wiggle their tail in happiness too.

- hungry hungry caterpillar.

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

Mach Tinkaton

- Tinktaton is a pokemon that wields a massive hammer, and beats others to death with it. Its hammer weighs over 200 lbs in canon, and Mach would totally be able to lift that weight. If not more.

- Tinkaton is also an exclusively female pokemon. Mach is a woman. Shrugs.

- Not much to say!!!! Big woman big hammer.

Design Notes:

- I think I made her look UGLY. I don't know what I like about my design. I guess the pose on the fullbody is sick af.

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

Infected Cubchoo

- I quite literally only did this for the aesthetic of the snot droplet. Thats it.

Design Notes:

- For some reason the regretevator wiki doesn't have a close up of the left side of Infecteds hat, only the right side. This made it difficult for me to draw the blue bunny.

- I contemplated adding hair at all. I decided to do so because Infected is one of the rare few haired characters. You can keep your hair. For now.

- I was contemplating Grafaiai as well, but I decided going the snot droplet route was better. But Grafaiai still works really well for Infected IMO.

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

Bive Absol

- Absols can uhmm.. ughh. Predict future events such as Natural disasters with their powers. So I think she would do this but her future predicting shit sucks. And she is paranoid from Absol related intuition.

- That's basically the only reason I thought of, but Bive is a simple character in concept so thats okay.

Design Notes:

- Freak woman Bive I love you.

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

That's all ty for reading I'm so tired goodnight

[brokenengene]

could you write about down bad loser hee that would do anything to get his was with you

*ೃ༄ first time user - l.hs

a/n: rahhh this was so much fun anon I hope you like my interpretation! (sorry it’s long!!)

summary: Your best friend’s brother is a total nerd—and he’s had a crush on you for years. She drags him along to a party one weekend, and it only takes you 30 seconds to show him exactly what he’s been missing.

pairing: best friend's brother!Heeseung x fem reader

genre: college au, smut, first time

word count: 2.5k

content warning: strong language, brief mention of alcohol, explicit smut, oral sex (f!receiving), virgin!Heeseung(implied) messy first time sex, mild humiliation, unprotected sex,(wrap it up!), creampie, begging, praise, awkward tension, overstimulation, and soft dom/sub dynamics

Content is only for readers 18+

You look into the mirror of your dorm room as you touch up your makeup under the yellow light. You blend out your contour and add extra highlighter to your collarbone right above the fabric of your dress.

“Damn you look good, I’m going to fight off crusty frat guys all night.” Your friend Jules says playfully.

You pass her your eyeliner as she leans over the sink right next to you. It’s become a habit at this point, the two of you decided it was time to live it up a little. And for the past few months, you’ve been wasted at a party every weekend living life to the fullest.

“I hope you have extra room in your car I’m bringing my brother along. He seriously needs to get out. His brain is gonna rot from looking at textbooks and video games all day.” Jules says casually.

You know her brother. Heeseung. Computer science major a year beneath you. He was basically the opposite of Jules. He was introverted, reserved, and always had his nose in a book or eyes glued to a PlayStation game.

Jules was the party girl, hell if she wasn’t your best friend you probably wouldn’t even be going out tonight. But it was good to have Jules around, she helped you break out of your shell.

The bass thumped beneath your feet as you finally arrived at the party. Jules and Heeseung are awkwardly followed behind you.

You’re immediately hit with the smell of alcohol the second you step through the door.

Tonight already smells like trouble.

You confidently find a cooler in the corner of the kitchen. You dig through the ice to find exactly what you’re looking for.

The party is already lively. People dancing, lights dim, couples making out on the couch and strangers hooking up upstairs. The usual for a night like this.

“Oh, my God is that the hot guy from Econ? I’ve got to talk to him!” Jules says as he digs through the cooler behind you looking for her own drink to take off whatever nerves she had left.

“Don’t get into too much trouble okay? Call me if you need anything! Mwah!” She says playfully and before you know it she’s disappearing into the crowd.

You look around, not really noticing any of the other people at the party besides one.

Heeseung.

He’s nervously leaning up against the outside wall, drink in hand, shoulders tight. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than here.

You smirk as you take another sip of your drink. It’s kind of cute the way he keeps pushing up his glasses. The way his shirt is buttoned all the way to the top as he nervously grips a red solo cup in his hand.

Figuring you have nothing else to lose you walk over towards him.

“Hey, Heeseung right?” You say confidently as you place your free hand on the wall right next to his head. Your other hand holding your drink, the alcohol definitely giving you a kick of confidence.

Heeseung's face turns red, bright red at the gesture. He nearly drops his drink as he looks at you.

He stumbles over his words as he looks you up and down. Your dress is tight, hugging your form and leaving little to the imagination.

He opens his mouth to speak but he stutters, completely caught off guard by the amount of cleavage he’s seeing right now.

“Y..yeah? That’s m-me—“ he replies, his eyes wide as he looks at you. His expression is shocked—like he can't believe a girl like you is hitting on a guy like him.

“You look good tonight…” You coo sweetly. Not out of a place of mockery, you do find him cute.

“I do? Th-thanks—“ he stutters out, quickly taking another sip of his alcohol like that would be his only saving grace.

His eyes are wide like a deer in headlights. He can’t tear his eyes away from you, his jaw drops like he can’t believe you’re here right in front of him.

“You good?” You ask playfully as you notice he’s practically shaking. Barely keeping his drink up straight, ready to spill at any moment.

“It’s just—parties aren’t my thing, girls aren’t my thing.” He says with an awkward chuckle.

“Just relax, it’s not like you have a crush on me or something—“ you say casually in an attempt to break the ice.

Heeseung's grip on his cup loosens and the alcohol falls onto the floor beneath you. Your eyes widen, brows sharp with concern.

Jules really wasn’t lying about him needing to touch some grass.

“Actually—that’s debatable” Heesung confesses, his face bright red as he reluctantly tears his eyes from the floor to look at you again.

“I've actually liked you for—longer than I’d want to admit. You’re just so out of my league, I never stood a chance…” he says weakly awkwardly shifting against the wall like he’s trying to hide his very obvious erection.

“Wanna head upstairs?” You cut him off, biting your lip as you smirk at him. Finding everything about the interaction cute.

“Upstairs? Like to have sex upstairs?” Heeseung says his voice shaking as he bluntly puts two and two together.

“I’d give anything, please just let me touch you one time. Fuck me just once and God...I’ll die a happy man,” he says frantically like he’s trying to convince you before you can change your mind.

You don’t even reply, you just leave the alcohol on a random side table and grab his wrist, dragging him behind you up the stairs and into an empty bedroom.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m gonna last thirty seconds—shit am I hallucinating?” Heeseung mumbles as he paces back and forth awkwardly in the middle of the dark empty room.

“I don’t know what I’m doing…” Heeseung gasps.

Your lips cut him off, tasing the essence of alcohol as you back him towards one of the bedroom walls. You capture his lips, sweet, soft innocent.

Heeseung is stunned, his arms awkwardly hovering at your sides, his eyes wide as you kiss him.

“Just follow my lead, okay?” You pull away just for a moment to seductively whisper.

His hands hesitate before they find your waist, gently holding you overtop the sequins of your dress. He gasps into each kiss like you're taking the air out of his lungs every second your lips are on his.

After a few moments, he leans into it, moaning shamelessly into your mouth, closing his eyes as he messily kisses you back.

“I’m gonna come…in my pants—if you keep kissing me” Heeseung gasps between kisses as your lips nip and suck on his.

You smirk against his lips, enjoying how his unraveling a little too much. You let your thigh press between his, feeling how hard he is just from looking at you.

He whimpers against your lips, his grip tightening at the sensation.

“Do you want me to stop?” You say breathlessly as you pull your swollen lips away from his.

“No, No, God No! Please don’t stop, you could spit on me and I would like it. You could do anything and I would tell you to keep going. Use me however you want don’t care—as long as it’s you.” Heeseung says breathlessly, his expression almost pained from how hard he is and you haven’t even properly touched him yet.

It’s turning you on more than you thought it would.

“You’re so pretty, and your boobs are driving me crazy in your dress like that—I didn’t mean to say that.” Heeseung stutters out, still red in the face.

You smile as you grab his hands, biting your lip. You gently guide him towards the bed, watching him mentally unravel in front of you.

You gently push his chest and he falls back onto the mattress on command. You straddle his hips, and your dress rides up your thighs as you do.

“This is usually the part when you get naked—“ you say bluntly, with a wicked smirk, watching him whimper and moan underneath you just from having you in his lap.

You know it’s cruel, but you slowly grind your hips against his own, he’s throbbing already, and you know he’s definitely not going to last.

You kiss underneath his jawline letting your hands slowly unbutton his shirt. Revealing one inch of porcelain skin at a time.

Heeseung is gasping beneath you, his head falls back as he grips the sheets trying to keep himself from falling apart too soon.

You let your lips drag down his neck, gently sucking on the sensitive skin to leave a faint mark. Heeseung groans at the sensation, his hips jerking beneath you as you slide his shirt off his shoulders.

“Tell me, what do you want?” You ask breathlessly as you pull away to look into his eyes, your hands gently taking the crooked glasses off his face and setting them on the bedside table.

“Teach me how to not screw this up, “ Heeseung gasps as you take the glasses off his face. Like the reality of everything is sinking in.

“Lie back…” you say softly as you reach down to pull your dress up and over your head. You straddle his hips as you take off your bra, letting your tits free of their restraints.

“Oh my God, oh my God—“ Heeseung exhales beneath you, his cock painfully twitching in his pants at the sight.

You slide your panties off swiftly before Heeseung can even open his mouth to speak.

Heeseung is frozen beneath you as you swing one of your legs over his chest, letting your already-wet pussy straddle his face.

Heeseung catches his breath like he’s about to pass out. His hands reluctantly go to your thighs as you hover over his face, your hands gripping the headboard of the bed.

“Holy shit what do I even do?” He asks his voice cracking with anticipation and nerves.

“Just use your tongue, start slow—“ you say and without warning he grabs your hips and pulls you onto his face.

He attacks you with his tongue, too hard than too soft, his movements unsure and miscalculated. You gasp at the feeling of his wet tongue on your aching pussy.

“Slower, fuck yes just like that.” You gasp as he slows down, still eager, he gently licks unsure stripes up your folds.

You pull one hand away from the headboard, reaching down to gently push his dark hair out of his eyes. Guiding him with a soft voice.

He continues to explore your folds, your hips shudder against his mouth, and he lets a deep moan slip.

He repeats the motion, his tongue sliding through your folds to flick your clit again. Your thighs clench around him, wetness dripping onto his lips and chin.

“Fuck you’re so wet, like insanely wet—“ He mumbles into your pussy.

“Right there, fuck yes—“ you interrupt as he lazily drags his tongue across your clit again.

He grips your thighs tighter as he gets the hang of eating you out. He’s a moaning mess beneath you. His hips jerk like he’s getting off just from having your taste in his mouth.

He continues not even registering that his nose is hitting you in all the right places as he fucks you with his tongue. Nails digging into your skin as he holds you down on his face.

He’s trembling, eyes rolling back like he’s the one getting head. He’s desperate, dark eyes glancing at you for guidance.

“You’re a fast learner.” You say truthfully with another soft moan, gripping the headboard tighter as you ride his face, enjoying it a lot more than you expected to.

“You’re good at this, so fucking good.” You gasp with a moan that even surprises you. Heeseung whines beneath you, shaking like he’s on the verge of his own release.

“Get ready, I’m coming in your mouth, shit—“ you gasp as he pushes you through your orgasm.

Your thighs clench, and you grip his hair as you use his nose to ride out your release. Your wetness coats his lips and tongue as he shamelessly licks up every drop between your thighs.

You swiftly swing your leg back over him. The cool air hits his face making him shudder. He’s breathless and red, face glistening with your cum.

“I had no idea, that’s what pussy tasted like—“ he says breathless, shocked as he licks his lips to taste more of you.

“And I can’t feel my jaw,” Heeseung states with a weak laugh.

You smile with disbelief, quickly moving back down the bed to unbutton his pants. You push them down along with his underwear already soaked with his pre-release. It’s a miracle he hasn’t come yet from the way he was responding.

“Please don’t laugh…” Heeseung pleaded as he threw his head back with a whimper. His cock was achingly hard and twitching out in the open.

“I’m not. You're cute, I’m enjoying this too.” You say truthfully.

You lean back on top of his body. Slick skin on skin as you kiss him again, letting him moan into your lips as he sinks back into the mattress.

Your hand slips between your bodies, wrapping around his girth as you stroke him once.

“Oh my god, oh my god–“ he whines as his hips jerk up into your hand, his tip swollen and leaking onto your fingertips.

You straddle him again, letting your soaked entrance tremble as you guide him to it.

You notch his aching tip into your slick heat before sinking down a few millimeters.

“Wait, wait, wait,—fuck you feel—I’m gonna”

“Breathe, breathe, Heeseung…” you say softly against his lips as you gently stroke the side of his sweaty red face. Smiling down at him with affection.

You give him a moment to pull himself together before you sink down a few more inches. He throws his head back against the pillows with a pained expression.

Tears start to fall from the corner of his dark eyes.

Heeseung sobs as he comes inside you, not even all the way in. He gasps like he’s in pain as he spills ropes of hot cum into your pussy.

You help him ride it out, sinking all the way down and rocking your hips back and forward as cum starts to slip out.

He grips the sheets as he shudders inside you. Tears streaming down his face. Beads of sweat on his chest.

“I’m sorry…” he whimpers through the tears.

God that was hot. And he looks completely wrecked.

“You rake your hands through his damp hair as you feel him going soft inside you. You gently kiss some of the tears from his cheeks as he nearly hyperventilates beneath you.

“I think I love you,” Heeseung says awkwardly in the heat of the moment.

You chuckle softly, your lips finding his again with another soft kiss. You pull away, whispering against his lips.

“You were perfect. You have no idea…”

“So is that like a one-time thing or do I get a chance to redeem myself?” Heeseung asks with a weak self-deprecating chuckle against your lips.

You smile back, gently brushing your fingertips through his dark hair.

“You better study,” you whisper, lips brushing his, “because next time—I’m letting you fuck me.”

© brokenengene