#oh dear lord this is my gender

[velaraffricate]

sooo i think im gonna remake my second ever conlang as well after all. i'm actually quite happy with it overall but theres some things i wanna change and update to integrate it into my new conworld. this one's got some fun gimmicks though, no adpositions (only cases), a pretty unique vowel harmony system and a fun gender system as well!

[bunnys-kisses]

Omg I am GREEDY could I please request for max banana bread and a croissant with a side of coffee hard lemonade?! Just imagining max getting jealous with a rival Mercedes driver who is Toto’s daughter or something when he sees her flirting with someone else 😌😌😌 spicy please sir 🙏

the bakery menu

still many sweet treats on the menu and orders are still available! feel free to place an order! also to the anon who requested this, i love your beautiful mind for this! i was somewhat expecting someone to request the reader be either horner or toto's daughter, but combined with the other prompts, i rather enjoy your devilish mind! please enjoy!

in addition, this will probably be the largest bakery request, this sort of got away from me!

banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour) served to you by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, driver!reader, driver!max, rough sex, degrading language, rivals au, hate fucking, teasing, max & reader hate each other and their fathers, possessive behaviour/jealousy, mentions of marriage and kids

you were good, and that pissed max off. it wasn't because you were a woman, that didn't matter. anyone of any gender who was better than him left a chill down his back.

you were good, so therefore he had to be better.

"are you upset that you lost, princess."

the hateful nickname people gave you in formula one, you were the daughter of toto wolff and drove for the team he basically owned. your father was technically your boss and most thought that you were incapable of being good. that everything was handed to you by your father.

your jaw tensed, you were number two in the season. marginally behind max verstappen who was looking at you with a smugness.

"so what will be your reward, oh dear lord verstappen. how can i a humble peasant in the world of formula one be so thankful that you beat me." your tone was laced with poison.

"motor home at the end of the lot. the one right beside the one your father's team owns." he was almost cocky and it made you want to go at his throat.

but rules were rules and as much as you wanted to whip your helmet at him. this sick little cat and mouse would just have to continue, except this time max was the cat.

you were pressed up against the door of the motor-home hours later after interviews, max had you by the shoulders as he pulled you into a searing kiss. he had taken home the trophy and you were a seething little rabbit.

being rivals sometimes meant ending up in compromising positions. and you and max made quite a pair. you heard the conversations online about the idea of you two being a couple.

a few photos from your early days of racing had made the rounds off of a private facebook page that a former friend had and onto the likes of instagram and tiktok.

you thought that the photos were before the "arrangement" you had but you could see in the shit quality of the photo the prominent hicket on max's hip in one of the photos where he had his arms raised above his head and the t-shirt he wore had rolled up.

the most incriminating was one that was a tad blurrier than the others. it was you and max at a club somewhere in either mexico or brazil and max had his arm slung around you, and your nose was in the crook of his shoulder and you looked like you were half asleep. max looked drunk as hell. but it wasn't the position you were in, but rather the trail of deep red lipstick across his cheek and down his neck. you were both out of it, very drunk but it was obvious that you were kissing all over the other driver's neck. you tried to explain online that it was just a wicked bruise on his face! but when was the last time a bruise looked like lips?

if those were bad enough, if someone found the both of you in the position you were in now, the media would latch onto it for the next decade. until you two eventually got married and had the next heir to the verstappen racing legacy.

he pulled at your racing shirt, the logo of mercedes was starting to piss him off. he didn't want to see it stretched around your tits, he'd rather have the flesh in his lands and covering it in dark hickies.

his hat was on the ground soon after and you two kept a close distance as you made your way through the motor home, trailing clothes behind. until you got to the upstairs portion where if left you in just your mismatched socks and him in his tight briefs and red bull polo shirt.

"you look good."

"you act like you've never seen me naked before." you approached him and pressed yourself up against him and linked fingers with him, "we've been doing this since what, 2016?"

he looked down at you, "and yes you only get more beautiful, i keep wondering why you can never find a boyfriend. are they scared?"

you clenched his hand and said, "max verstappen, anytime a man with any kind of clout follows me on instagram, they always seem to unfollow me right after. i have my guesses on why that is happening, but i feel like you'd have a better idea." then flashed him a smile before you pushed him onto the bed.

max looked up and smiled at you. not the one who put on for the cameras, but rather a true genuine smile. he responded as he took his shirt off, "princess, i honestly don't know. could be your overbearing father for all you know. he would only want the best for you after all."

you straddled his clothed cock and placed your hands across his chest, "well, then i guess it wouldn't bother you if i said that two weekends ago i had a little post-race rendezvous with leclerc."

max's attention piqued. the green-eyed monster that lived in the driver reared its ugly head. he said, "you went somewhere with charles?"

you nodded and cupped his face. you smiled and replied, "oh yeah. nice big boat, lots of wine. he let me put the ferrari hat on when i rode him. but you're not bothered by that, right?"

max grabbed you by the back of the head and pulled you into a hot kiss. you could feel the tension in his body, the jealousy taking root. when you pulled away, he looked sternly into your eyes, he held your head and said, "you're a little liar. how would you father feel if he found out that you were a dirty fucking liar."

a sick little game. this what this all was. losing your career and favour with your father was not worth it, so the games continued until you both got bored. but it's been almost ten years and there was very little boredom.

"really, go ask him next time." you pushed further. you could feel his clothed erection up against your pussy. fucking freak.

max replied, "yeah, yeah. i'll ask him, and then i'll invite him over next time. he doesn't live that far away, princess. and i will show him how to actually fuck you. because i know if you did sleep with him, you were faking your orgasms."

you nodded a little and said, "yeah, verstappen. why don't we bring up the time you called me because you thought you got some girl in italy pregnant." you pressed your forehead against his. the sharp words were replaced with hot kisses.

max's briefs were soon off, followed by your socks. you two hated each other, it was a sickening affair. fueled by lust, hate and wanting some kind of release. you were your fathers' pet projects, a mutually assured destruction was the only way out of it. and it took the form and max's hands gripping your hips as he wrestled you onto your elbows and knees.

"i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name." he said, "maybe if you're lucky, it'll be your name in a few years." he rubbed his cock up against your slick pussy.

you wanted to reach behind you and hit him, but instead your muttered out, "yeah well your son will have the wolff last name then."

he yanked your hair and said, "not if i have anything to do about it. i'd rather our sons have strong a last name and good dutch first names." his voice was honey in your ear, you hated how that strong of words soaked your to your core. he chuckled in your ear as he slid in his cock into you. with both hands on your hips, "we can invite your father to our wedding, i think it would be a little rude for me not to. watch him hand over his only daughter."

"i'm going to kill you verstappen." you snapped and he pushed your face further into the bed. the light streamed through the large windows, asshole didn't even close the curtains. who knew what paparazzi was lingering around still.

"don't be mad, princess, it's not a bad thing that the only way you'll ever be close to the championship is to have my last name."

"i'm going to win this entire thing and i'm going to ruin you, max."

"not if i ruin you first." he rocked you against his cock. he hand you by the hips and drilled his cock into you.

you hated that you loved it, you hated how easily it was for him to get you into his bad. you hated that he was your biggest rival and the other fucker on the grid who could make you finish. you've heard the horror stories from former girlfriends.

max on the other hand took a sick pleasure in making your cum over and over and over again, until your voice was raw from the amount of times you said his name like worship.

you wanted him dead, but you also wanted him between your legs.

the sex between you two was hot, it was like touching a hot handle on the stove. you clawed at the soft white covers and let max thrust into you. you knew he was going to finish in you, after you told him you were on the pill, he took full advantage of that.

you thought it was a weird ownership over you. the thought of it made you frown against the covers. max kept you pinned as he fucked you.

the tumble of pleasure in the motor-home coursed through you. you felt hot all over, his breath in your ear and the weight of him on top of you. he kept you pinned between him and the bed.

"you're a sick fuck, verstappen."

"not as much as you, wolff." he said between heavy pants.

you had trained each other for sex to be a quick thing in stranger areas. there was no time for passion and romance. you rubbed your forehead against the covers and panted heavily. you felt close to your orgasm with your heart hammering.

"i'm gonna cum." you panted, you arched your back and looked up at him. he leaned over you for a hot kiss on your lips, his pace became more sporadic, and with that it sent you over the edge.

he broke the kiss and gave it a few more hearty thrusts before he finished inside of you. orgasm gripped him tightly and he let out a hard pant as he came to a stop.

"fuck."

"shit."

"max."

"i know."

he kept one of his large hands on your lower back as you panted heavily against the bed. you reached for him and ended up tucked into his side. he held you, it was almost tender.

"verstappen."

"wolff."

it felt good being next to him, even if he was your rival. while the sex was amazing, you knew that there would be a part two to his reward for beating you.

but for a moment you let yourself come down from the intense high of climax, slightly pissed that max verstappen was the one who was able to make you feel good.

fuckin' asshole.

-

"this is stupid, max." you said as you tried to adjust the shirt on your body. it was a little too big, but it would stroke max's ego.

max was seated at the edge of the bed, the shirt you were wearing was once on him. he said to you with a smile, "i think that you look rather good. i think you'd be better on red bull's team."

you looked over your shoulder, "or i could make you come to mercedes? we'd know how to take care of you." you giggled before you went over to him.

the shirt on you was one of many red bull polos that max owned, it was what he wanted on top of having sex with you. you got in his lap and spread your hands across his bare chest.

"i guess i can live with wearing these terrible colours, once." you tapped him on the nose and added, "but don't get used to it, verstappen. i'll make sure to get you a pretty thong with the mercedes logo on it when i win."

he took you by the back of the neck and pulled you into a searing kiss and said, "right, right. maybe next time i win, you can go to the paddock with my cock on your breath and the red bull logo across those pretty tits of yours." he held you closer and licked his lips, "now, schat. i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

you cupped his face and said, "you have twenty minutes verstappen, either you get another orgasm out of me or i'm leaving."

he laughed and cupped your breasts through your shirt. he said ina voice so painfully sweet, "of course, ms. wolff, would hate to get the best driver in all of mercedes waiting. i know you're all an impatient bunch." then was pulled into a hot kiss before you two ended up back fully on the bed. <3

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Clematis - Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Clematis (Clematis) - Meaning: Ingenuity, cleverness

Summary: Anthony's lover comes up with a way to see him after the ball.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 1504

Warnings: SMUT, probably poorly written cunnilingus (F receiving), reader has female anatomy, Regency era gender politics, Anthony loves giving head

Day 15 and not sure how I feel about this one. Getting it in under the wire, it's almost midnight where I'm at. I just want a man to come in through my window and eat my 😼 okay???

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated! ❤️

If this was how Anthony Bridgerton kissed, you couldn’t imagine how else he could make you feel. His lips were firm against yours, but gentle, coaxing, his large hands tracing down your neck and along the line of your decollete which made your breath hitch. 

Part of the intoxication was the danger of the situation — you were the daughter of an Earl, a respectable lady of the Ton, and if you were discovered with Anthony Bridgerton’s hands and lips all over you, you would be ruined. 

You broke the kiss, needing an influx of air or you would surely faint. Anthony rested his forehead against yours. 

“I need you,” you breathed out, “Anthony, I need you.” 

He ran a delicate finger down your chest, “Not here, dearest.” 

“Then where? When?” You couldn’t help the whine that escaped you as you pressed your pliant body against his firm one. 

He sighed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “If only I could whisk you away from here without drawing suspicion.” 

An idea came to mind — it was risky, but if he agreed you could continue feeling like you were on fire, and oh, how you wanted to burn. 

“Come to my home, tonight,” you whispered, gasping a little as his lips pressed against your neck, licking over your jeweled necklace. “There’s a trellis just under my window, you can climb right up.” 

“You wish for me to defile you in your own bedroom?” Anthony growled against your neck, “Naughty girl.” 

He agreed to the plan nonetheless, and you straightened yourself before heading back to your parents, claiming a headache and asking for the carriage. 

“But dear, you haven’t danced with Lord Hollingsworth yet!” your Mama declared, having selected the oh-so-boring yet oh-so-available man as your best hope for marriage at the beginning of the season. 

“Now, now Cecelia,” your Papa chimed in, “if the girl is unwell we shan’t force her to dance. I’ll call the carriage, dears, you two gather your things and say your goodbyes.” He nodded at you and ducked away, eager to get home as usual. 

From across the ballroom, you caught Anthony’s eye and nodded slightly. He winked, sending the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. He was to give you ninety minutes to make sure your parents were asleep, then scale your trellis like a hero in a romantic novel. 

Immediately upon your return home, you excused yourself upstairs. Your maid helped you undress, but you dismissed her quickly, claiming you could handle taking the pins out of your hair on your own. Over the next hour, you listened as your father retired to his study and your mother to her bedroom. 

Once you were sure your parents were in for the night, you placed a candle in your window — his signal that the coast was clear. Unable to remain still, you started pacing your room. Would he show up or leave you twisting in the wind like this? 

Only a few minutes of pacing later a knock came from your window. You dashed over, unlatching it and moving the candle for Anthony to pull himself up. He did so athletically, like letting a tiger into your bedroom. When he was inside, you closed the window and he was on you in a heartbeat, hot kisses along the back of your neck while his hands slid around your waist. 

Your hand came up to grip the back of his head, your fingers lacing through his silken hair. You pressed back against him, turning your head to meet his lips with your own. He tasted like whiskey and sin. He spun you around in his grasp and tugged you close to him by your hips. 

You gasped as you felt his cock pressing into your lower tummy — he was large. For a moment you hesitated, wondering how something so large would fit inside you, but Anthony’s insistent grip on your hips turned into him grabbing handfuls of your nightgown and pulling the cool silk up, up, up. 

“You came,” you gasped breathlessly.

“You didn’t think I would? Tsk, tsk,” he joked, clicking his tongue at you. “My dear, now that I’ve had a taste, I cannot get enough.” 

He emphasized his point by kissing your lips once again, licking his tongue into your mouth. You responded with a soft moan, which only seemed to spur him on. 

Before you knew what was happening, Anthony had tossed you back onto your bed and was  crawling over you, bringing the hem of your nightgown with him. Your breath hitched as you felt his warm, large fingers tracing trails of fire up your legs, teasing your wetness through your undergarments. 

“May I taste you,” he asked, and you moaned your response which prompted him to stop his fingers only an inch from where you needed him most. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and whined. He rose to meet your lips with his. “I need you to remain quiet, otherwise I will stop. And we don’t want that, sweet one, do we?” 

Anything. Anything he wanted as long as he kept touching you. When he saw you nod, he hooked a finger beneath your gusset and ripped it, baring your wetness to him. With eyes dark as obsidian in the light of the single candle burning, he gazed up at you with such heat as you had never known. 

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, then licked a long stripe into you, sending a lightning bolt up your spine. His lips curled around your clit and you shuddered. A moan threatened to slip past your lips but you clamped your hand over your mouth to stop it. The noise was caught in your throat, fluttering like a canary in a cage. 

Anthony hummed a, “good girl,” against you, making you clench around nothing. 

You moved your hands, making an effort to keep your tone low, “More, please!”

You felt him smirk against you before he redoubled his efforts, this time breaching your entrance with a thick finger. Moaning at the intrusion, Anthony took this as an invitation to add another finger, stretching you deliciously. 

You were close, so close, his fingers pumping and hitting a spot within you that you couldn’t reach, his tongue flicking against your clit. Each movement made the knot in your lower tummy tighten, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“Anthony, please,” you whined, unable to control your volume.

He slowed his fingers and removed his mouth from you. “Quiet,” he hissed, “Or do you wish for your parents to find me here?” 

Unconsciously, you clenched around his fingers. The danger of being caught added something you couldn’t name to the situation. Anthony smiled. “Mmm, does my sweet want to get caught?” He teased, and you clenched again, “I think she does. Such a wanton little strumpet, tempting me into a dark corner to kiss me, then inviting me to her bedchambers in the middle of the night, and squeezing my fingers at the thought of someone coming in…”

His words, said in his tantalizing baritone, were pushing you closer and closer to the edge. If only he would put his mouth to better use and—

As if reading your mind, his lips landed back on your clit and his fingers picked up their pace once more, again finding the spot within you that made you see stars with every pass. 

You clamped your hands over your mouth again and moaned his name, which only spurred him on. He drove into you, his tongue and lips reciting an ode against you, dedicating it to you and your pleasure. Having the entire focus of this season’s most eligible bachelor was intoxicating to say the least — and inevitably what pushed you straight into your climax. 

You writhed against him, held in place by his strong forearm as he worked you through your orgasm, the aftershocks lasting much longer than they normally did. Anthony remained between your legs and cleaned up every drop of your release before withdrawing. 

The clock in the hall chimed thrice. Anthony joined you when you reached for him, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You let your hand drift to the front of his trousers, palming his length until he guided your wrist away. 

“As much as I wish for it, I have an early appointment and must be on my way.” 

You pouted up at him, but he placed a sweet kiss to your forehead before slipping off the end of your bed with a promise to see you again soon. 

You watched as he made his way back down the trellis. When he got to the bottom, he blew you a kiss before disappearing into the dark Mayfair night.

The early appointment Anthony had, you would find out later, was to meet with your father. He asked for your hand that afternoon. And, knowing what awaited you in your marital bed, you happily said yes.

[yasdemonslay]

supporting you and your master list - how about, "how does each hashira deal with feelings of jealousy in a relationship?" or do they even get jealous

first and foremost, thank youuu. :3 i love this, let's go!

part one: tomioka giyu, tengen uzui, rengoku kyojuro, shinazugawa sanemi i'm going to write out this scenario as if they're witnessing you being hit on in front of them. or a good friend of yours is being a little too close for their comfort. oh, and for the most part, gender neutral tiimeeee!

{{ tomioka giyu 🌊

ohhhhhhhhhh man, he's brooding lmao.

he's bottling up those feelings for the entire evening TRUST. like it's shitty, but you barely notice that he's bothered. which, come on, giyu.

he may get a little more withdrawn as the night goes on.

but i do see him staring daggers at that person. or even excusing himself because he just doesn't want to deal.

i get the feeling that he'd be self-aware of his insecurities though. like he trusts you... but he just doesn't like the idea of someone thinking things about you.

{{ tengen uzui 💎

so.

okay i don't see him getting a way about it.

honestly, if someone hits on you in front of him, you know he's teasing you all night and all week about it lmaooo.

"wow, they have great taste..." *eyebrow wiggle*

"ohhh do I need to step my game up right now? should i be taking notes?!" *playfully swats your behind*

god damn it, uzui.

{{ rengoku kyojuro 🔥

king of transparency and open communication lmaoo. but he's not immune to jealousy. in my headcannon, he's such an old-fashioned gentleman, honestly.

and cheesy af, but we love him for that.

why does this man speak in poems at you.

"i have to be honest, my love! my heart feels a bit uneasy watching you with them. i trust you, but i think talking it out would help me!"

like he addresses his feelings before y'all even leave lololol.

{{ shinazugawa sanemi 🌪️

lord please fucking help the poor soul who hits on you in front of this man.

he's like... the opposite of everything above, oh dear.

unapologetically pissed. offended. and not willing to be rationalized out of his anger or the situation.

hmm, a tad possessive.

will, without a doubt, call the person out. at the party.

"you’re mine, and i don’t want anyone else getting any ideas."

on the same coin, he'd seek a little bit of reassurance, whether he'd admit it directly or not. he wants to hear that you're not tempted by anyone else.

aw.

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Greasers x mean girl/boy/person (think Regina George, Heather Chandler, Bryce Tankthrust) s/o who uses their status to protect their greaser and is kind of nice under all the cutthroat boss bitch-ness. Like the top rank of social that most other socs are afraid of.

(tried to make it gender neutral of my best ability, but it’s hard to fit phrases like “ queen bee” into gender neutral terms)

Inspo:

*socs approach and start making jeering comments* Hey Grease…

*you get in front of them* if you ever talk to them like that again, I will make it my personal life goal to ruin yours, and no one will hire your sorry ass again. Oh, and you can consider *insert secret* spilled.

<matching hcs with @sadie-bug345 please go check out her blog she has amazing outsiders headcanons>

Ponyboy Curtis

-intimidated by you fs

-he knows your life ruining rep

-sukrised when one day you tap on his shoulder

“Ponyboy… right?”

“U-uh yeah that’s me!”

“Great you’re tutoring me. Every Friday.”

“U-uh ok?”

-you guys actually get along and he helps with with your grades a lot

-You actually become friends and stand up for him against other Socs and even your own friends

-One night he’s walking home alone from the movies and four Socs approach him and start threatening him

-you on one of their shoulders and the Soc blanks and realization as he remembers your long-standing friendship with Pony

-“if you ever mess with him again I will ruin your life. You know I will.”

-the Socs all back up, and you stand there, smirking

-I feel like that’s when pony boy realizes his feelings for you and kisses you right there on the spot

-you guys are actually a really great mix, the popular person and the kind of more quiet guy

Johnny Cade

-he was so scared of you

-thought of all the possible ways you could ruin his life even more

-one day he comes to school and his locker is spraypainted with “Bastard Greaser”

-he’s even more suprised when you approach him at lunch break

-“Johnny Cade, right? Yk, you’re kind of cute… *you smirk* Anyway I have a dear friend… well, ex friend with me that wants to apologize for so crudely vandalizing your locker. RIGHT, Jessica?”

-his head is spinning, the queen/king bee of the whole school just flirted with him and made a bully apologize?

-you start coming to the lot more and more after that, and realize he often doesn’t have a place to sleep

-you invite (drag) him to your home where you set up a room for him, and being rich, it’s pretty damn nice

-I feel like that’s when he realizes his feelings for you and one night, when he’s about to go to sleep in his bed, he leans over and kisses your cheek

-you guys become a new couple and it shocks everyone

-yall are cute tho ❤️❤️

-you make sure no one gives him shit. If they do then LORD help them

Sodapop Curtis

-ok so you guys are a more expected couple

-prom royalty fr

-soda probably made you nice 💀💀

-you guys met in school and started dating, and he helped you kind of be the nice kind of popular

-you also spoil him with your money fr

-his brothers are skeptical of you at first (especially after sandy) but once they see your do really like him they totally ship you

-POWER COUPLE

-fr you guys are what everyone wants to be

Darry Curtis

-you were both popular and kind of ran in the same circles but didn’t like eachother

-he didn’t think he would like you because he doesn’t like mean girls/guys/people and thought you’d be all fake n stuff

-but one day yall got assigned to work on a history project and you both got along pretty well and you put in a pretty good effort

-that’s when he realized that you weren’t so bad and you two became friends

-eventually he caught on feelings for you and asked you out

-sweet couple, and everyone ships it

Dallas Winston

-you two met in detention FS

-you spread a nasty rumor about a boy who cheated on one of your close friends and he vandalized something

-enemies to lovers energy

-yall didn’t like eachother that much

-he sat behind you and kept making crude remarks and messing with you so you bit back

-“There’s no way in hell if ever dream of being with a lowlife like you”

-after a bit of banter and insults you somehow end up on his lap making out with him

-the teacher walks in and is like wtf- my eyes-

-you guys are the best power couple people cower in fear with you two together

-calls you prince/princess or doll fr

-it’s a typical bad boy x mean girl/guy/person thing

Two Bit Matthews

-you fits me at the mall when you were making fun of another stuck up girl

-he joined in with the teasing

-you were like ohhh this one’s kinda funny and you two actually hit it off really well

-you liked his wisecracks, they made the world all the more entertaining and he admired your cutthroat bitch attitude

-yall started dating after a while

-class clown x mean girl/guy/person and it’s SO iconic

-you two are surprisingly healthy for eachother, you both kind of get to see the under layer

-like you get to see what’s beyond his wisecracks and he gets to see beyond your plastic mean girl facade

Steve Randle

-he was suprised

-when you went up to him instead of Sodapop

-but when you pulled up in your red Ferrari with a scratched tire that was totally not just an excuse just to talk to him and started heavily flirting

-he wasn’t impressed, he still thought you were fake

-which bothered you, you didn’t know anyone who didn’t like you or at least pretend to

-so you kept showing up and one day a group of Socs stopped by the gas station, spitting on him

-you got furious and nearly ruined your car trying to ram them

-Steve was kinda in love after that

-he realized you really weren’t plastic

-you guys got together and are sooo cute

-when you go on long rants he listens to you while he fixes his cars

-and you have a free new handyman

[cheollipop]

soybean stew

navi | taglist

pairing: choi san x afab!reader

w.c.: 5.5k

tags: smut, fluff, so much fluff, and even more fluff, established relationship, reader is not gendered, san is so in love, he's so in love!!!! and it's so fluffy!!! and he can cook, but he's a little clumsy, did I mention the fluff?

trudging back home after your final exam, wanting nothing but to sink into bed and sleep through the next three years, san welcomed you with a warm bath and a home-cooked meal. and even as the moon fell to make way for the morning rays, he continued to shower you with his never-ending love.

warnings: beware!!! the fluff may be deadly, reader is not gendered (afab), morning sex, lovemaking, oral sex (f), fingering (f), unprotected sex (👎), multiple orgasms (m), multiple creampies, overstimulation, praise, edging, orgasm denial (only for a bit), nicknames (sannie; love, darling, sweetheart, baby), very sappy, so many kisses, like....a lot, san gets so desperate at one point...oh lord, so whiny too, and so in love :(

A/N: this has been a wip since april and I kinda abandoned it because uni was beating my ass,, buuut I figured it would be a great (belated) birthday fic for san!! (´ ε ` )♡ and happy birthday to my favourite himbo ^^ happy reading! please consider reblogging/leaving feedback if you enjoy my work~ ><

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

Your soaked sneakers slammed over the pavement, splashing into the puddles of rainwater showering the Earth. The umbrella you held onto for dear life did nothing to protect you from the downpour, your lower half left helpless to the droplets the wind pushed at it, darkening your jeans to match the overcast sky under which you were walking. The revision notes felt heavy in the bag slung over your shoulder, and you wanted nothing but to burn them and have a barbeque over the flame to celebrate the end of your semester.

Dragging your sore body through the streets and into the shelter of your apartment building, you found yourself out of breath by the time you arrived at your front door. Your arm felt like deadweight as you raised it to unlock your door with languid movements. You lugged your body through the entrance and into the joint living area and kitchen, eyes falling on the tall figure of Choi San, all broad shoulders and glowing skin, swaying his hips to the music playing from his phone, masking the jingle of your keys. A sudden rush of energy – though miniscule – pushed you towards the man, your arms snaking around his waist, his body jolting in your hold and the ladle in his hand rising in defense with a throaty scream.

“Ah! (Y/n)- Fuck-” He slumped over the stove, the steam from the bubbling pot brushing over the smooth skin of his face. “You scared me, sweetheart,” he laughed breathlessly.

You managed a half-hearted apology and a giggle as you pressed your head to his bicep to watch as tofu and an array of vegetables danced in the brownish broth, the pleasant aroma making your stomach rumble against San’s back. He laughed to himself, dropping the ladle into the pot and twisting his body to face you, his arms encircling your shoulders and bringing you closer to his body.

“The jjigae needs a while longer to be ready,” he brushed his hand over the back of your head. “I should’ve started cooking earlier, sorry.”

You leaned in to press a kiss to his pouty lips and shook your head, an easy smile stretching your mouth. It baffled you how you were barely conscious a few minutes ago, but upon laying your eyes on San, wrapping yourself up in his arms, inhaling the uniqueness of his scent – a blend of bergamot and sage, with a hint of baby powder – you felt revived, ready to conquer the world (even though a certain man with broad shoulders and a pretty smile would fight every entity that opposed you before you had the chance to lift a finger).

“I don’t mind waiting,” you pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth before leaning away to admire the stupid smile on his face, his eyes glowing with unrivaled adoration.

“How about I run you a bath, hm? Dinner should be done by the time you finish.” His fingers rubbed small, warming circles over the damp material of the coat you didn’t bother shrug off upon entry, too engrossed in greeting your boyfriend.

You nodded, an easy smile twisting the corners of your lips as you swayed gently in San’s arms. He took you in, from the way the wind had left your locks dishevelled to the dark circles under your weary eyes. San could see your mismatched socks through the slight gap separating your bodies. They weren’t even similar colours—proof of how exhausted you actually were. He cupped your jaw, and you felt the drag of the bandages wrapped around two of his fingers across your cheek. You grabbed his hand and held it in front of you, shooting a glare at him while he sheepishly looked to the side. Injuries were inevitable when you leave a man who can’t even walk straight alone with a sharp knife. Though, scolding San for hurting himself while doing something so thoughtful was not within your capabilities. The guilt would eat at your insides for weeks until it left a hollow cavity brimming with rue and self-condemnation.

You brought the bandaged fingers to your lips, pressing tender kisses to the wounded skin. “Thank you, Sannie,” you gently spoke. For everything you do for me, you silently added. And the smile on San’s face told you he understood.

He had every little detail about you engraved into his mind, from the blemishes decorating your skin to the way your eyes spoke to him when putting your thoughts into words proved to be a task too difficult. You sometimes felt like San knew you better than you did yourself, recognizing exactly what you need before you even had the chance to think about it.  And whenever you felt self-conscious about not being as perceptive, San was quick to assure you that you did more than enough for him, that your smile alone could solve all his predicaments.

San led you to the bathroom, turning away from you as you began to strip. He sat at the edge of the bathtub, switching on the water and holding his hand under the tap until he deemed it warm enough, plugging the drain and getting up. Turning back around, San’s eyes fixed on your exposed skin while he blindly reached for the cabinet, tracing the swell of your breasts and the curvature of your waist, blinking slowly as he felt saliva pooling in his mouth at the sight of you before him.

And then he met your eyes, freezing in place when you raised a questioning eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat – a little louder than he’d intended – and hoped you wouldn’t notice the bright red tinting his cheeks as he desperately scrambled to grab onto the handle, flinging the cabinet door open and effectively hiding his face behind the wood. You stifled a laugh, shoving your clothes into the laundry basket while San rummaged through the items stored underneath the sink, pulling out a rose-shaped bath bomb. He stood back up, smiling like an idiot when he turned to face you again, the previous timidity nowhere to be seen as he ogled your bare body with newfound confidence.

“You’re insufferable,” you grimaced, shying away from his gaze.

He breathed out a laugh, the fondness glimmering in his eyes sending a wave of warmth through your body and straight to your heart, sensing as it swelled with adoration. You wondered what you might have done in a previous life that deemed you deserving of Choi San—a man who never failed to make you feel loved, cherished, wanted.

“Stop it,” you whined when San’s eyes remained on you, though not moving off your face.

“It’s hard to look away from you, darling,” he swooned, putting his arms up to protect himself from the towel you threw his way, a soft chuckle echoing in the bathroom.

You waited for him to turn his back to you before allowing the smile you’d been holding back to sneak onto your face, tilting your head down to shield it from view. San didn’t bother hiding his own, dimples sinking into his cheeks as he dropped the bath bomb into the tub, watching it fizz and leak a soft shade of pink into the water.

“Let me know if the water’s too hot,” San spoke, making his way back to you.

He held your face in his hands, pressing his lips to your forehead before pulling away with an easy smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes. You hummed a ‘thank you,’ passing San to step into the water, jolting when a warm palm landed on your ass, the sound reverberating between the walls.

“Yah!” You yelled and watched as the culprit escaped, leaving behind a trail of high-pitched giggles to keep you company.

You shook your head, a smile on your lips, and continued your descent into the warm bath. You relaxed your body, sighing contently when the water brushed the tip of your nose, feeling the weariness of this past month melt away into nothing.

--

San placed two bowls of rice down on the dining table beside a pair of empty ones, walking back to the stove to grab the bubbling pot of stew. The distant roar of the hairdryer stopped, and the bathroom door swung open down the hall. You walked out, a trail of steam following you as you made your way to the kitchen to watch San place the pot down on the wooden table. He straightened up and an easy smile took over his lips when his eyes landed on you—dressed in one of his hoodies, your cheeks flushed from the warm bath. You found yourself rushing into his open arms, burying your face into San’s chest and making a home in his cordial embrace. He nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your shampoo and pressing a kiss to your hair.

San placed another peck to your temple before pulling away and leading you to a chair, pulling it out, and waiting for you to sit down before pushing it back in. You shook your head and huffed out a laugh at the simple, yet endearing gestures engraved so deeply into San’s mannerisms. You’d thought they would’ve stopped after a couple months of dating, but here you were, quite a few years in and he remained the gentleman you had fallen in love with on a windy autumn afternoon.

San walked around the table and took the seat across from you, reaching for the ladle and pouring stew into one of the empty bowls, handing it to you before filling up his own. You smiled, inhaling the steam dancing above your bowl, exhaling with a deep, happy hum. You picked up your spoon, scooping up some of the rice and dipping it into the stew before bringing it to your mouth. You blew on it, aware of San’s eyes on you, gauging your reaction as you chewed on the food.

“Be honest,” he spoke, the smile on his lips carrying a hint of tension and anxiety.

You knew he cared the most about your opinion, and wanting nothing but to see the dimples sinking into his cheeks, you fluttered your eyes shut and swayed your body from side to side while humming exaggeratedly. “Mmm! Sannie, this is the best meal I’ve ever had!”

You reached across the table to cover his hand with your palm, and he didn’t waste time flipping it over and giving yours a squeeze. The smile stretching his lips nearly split his face open, a bright red colouring his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “It’s my mum’s recipe,” he scratched at his nape with his free hand.

You felt your chest well up with infatuation, fondness, love. Choi San occupied every inch of your being, and he was wholly unaware of it all—the effect he had on you, how you melted into putty in hands whenever he smiled your way. The gentle touches, the sappy flirting. He drove you crazy at times, and you wondered when you became greedy, wanting to rob the dimpled man of every last drop of his love.

“Well, you did it justice. It’s delicious,” you mirrored the smile he was giving you.

Your fingers remained entwined throughout dinner, even when San directed his spoon towards you, shoveling half of his own portion into your mouth despite your complaints. You tried doing the same, but for every spoon you pushed past his lips, he fed you two back until you were on the verge of exploding, swearing on every living family member you had that another bite would make your heart stop. San only laughed, extending his free arm to brush away the grain of rice stuck to the corner of your mouth, leaning back and sucking the food off his thumb with a coy smile.

You cleared your throat, ignoring the flash of warmth coursing through your body at the action. You were so adorable, San thought, getting up when you did, plastering himself to your back and waddling with you to the living room. You held onto his arms where they were crossed around your chest, stopping by the couch before unwinding your limbs and twisting around to face him. With his hands on your waist, San urged you closer until your arms wrapped around his neck, leaning down to press his mouth to yours.

The kiss was soft, your lips slotting perfectly over each other while you shared your body heat, your fingers tangling in the hair at San’s nape and lightly scratching at the skin. San parted from you only to place tender pecks over your pouted lips, trailing his own over the plushness and to your cheeks, nuzzling his nose against them before pulling away. He walked you backwards until the backs of your knees met the couch, dropping you gently onto the cushion. You found yourself wrapped in your favourite blanket before you could complain about San's hands not being on you, tucked into the corner of the couch with a movie playing on the TV. With a kiss to your forehead and a whispered “I’ll be right back,” San walked back to the kitchen, giggling menacingly at your displeased grumbling.

San’s hips swayed while he loaded the dishwasher, his thoughts revolving around a certain individual impatiently waiting for him on the couch. An individual he was helplessly infatuated with, having built his future in his mind around them—around their interests, their occupation, their preferred paint colour, their desired pet, whether he’d have to build a cot at some point in his life. He rinsed down the spoons while thinking back to the first time he saw you—sat on a bench under the yellowing tree, bright red and orange colouring the dying leaves. How lucky he was, San thought, to still be looked at the same way by the person he was in love with. All starry eyes and warm smiles, as though he’d built you a kingdom with nothing but his calloused hands.

Slipping off his bright pink rubber gloves, he made his way past the dining table and into the living area, his bare feet padding across the carpeted floor and stopping right in front of your sleeping figure. He mooned over your resting face for a few moments, the TV playing idly in the background as he studied the soft furrow of your eyebrows, the gentle grip you had on the corner of the blanket in which you were wrapped up in, the thin line of drool seeping from the corner of your mouth and onto the cushion under your head. San's fist tightened in resistance, the squeal tickling the base of his throat fighting to be let out as he barely held back the aggressive stomps. Everything about you drove him insane, even when you were doing something as simple as fulfilling a basic human need. He took you in for longer than he’d wish to confess, trailing his eyes over every inch of your face before snapping out of the trance he’d found himself in, a dribble of saliva leaving his own mouth while fondness brimmed in his chest.

He scooped you up in his arms, careful not to awaken you, small, light steps carrying him to your shared bedroom. Abruptly stopping in the middle of the hallway, San bit down on his bottom lip and squeezed his eyes shut when you nuzzled your face into his chest, resisting the urge to cover your face in kisses. His grip on you tightened and he willed his legs to move, taking a few – slightly hurried – strides through the hallway and into your room.

Delicately placing you under the covers, San untangled you from the fluffy blanket and threw it over the duvet—the night grew cold now that winter was inching closer.  He made a quick work of his clothes, throwing on a hoodie not strained with splotches of soybean paste before slipping into bed. His arm naturally slid under your head, his other arm snaking around your waist and tucking you into his chest, a satisfied exhale blowing out of your nose. Sleep found him fleetly, hints of rose mixing with your natural scent to surround him with familiar amenity, your body soft and pliant against his. Pressing his lips to your forehead, San wrapped himself around you and allowed the gentle tugs of slumber to shut his eyes, his last thoughts circling around the person in his arms, hoping the next day would come quickly, wanting nothing more but to drown them in his affection.  

Streaks of gold filtered through the chiffon curtains, the sheer material futile against the aurous beams of light revering the start of the new day. Peeking your eyes open, you blinked away the contrasting brightness of your room, shadows splayed over the disordered sheets and a warm body plastered to your side. San’s head lay lower on the pillow, his exhales blowing over your neck, features softened in tranquility while his chest rose and fell with each breath. You wondered if he was dreaming of you.

Your shoulders felt light, your breathing easy, and the stress of assignments and exams gone with the moonless night, the new sun casting shadows over the face tucked into your neck. San had been so patient with you, planning dates around your busy schedule and racking up the phone bill as he pulled recipe after recipe from his mother every evening. While you were too immersed in reading articles, San made sure you didn’t skip meals, that your water bottle was always full and sitting on the right side of your desk, that your shared home remained clean, that the knots in your shoulders never wound too tight, his delicate fingers working over your muscles as you clung to his torso at night. And though he never deprived you of his affection, you felt an untamable need for him, a wildfire burning in your gut as you took in his resting features.

You started off gentle, your lips feathering over San’s temple and down to his cheekbone, quickly growing frustrated at the continued evenness of his breath. So the needy, openmouthed kisses began, leaving a thin sheen of saliva in the shape of your lips reflecting the morning rays, your fingers brushing dark strands off his forehead to plant kisses there as well. You felt his nose twitch as you pecked down the bridge, the subtle pouting of his lips curling the corners of yours.

Your hands made their way under San’s sleep shirt, your nails dragging over his spine before splaying your palms out to feel the warmth of his skin. You threw your leg over his hip, shuffling closer to his body and trailing your lips down to his cupid’s bow. “Sannie,” kiss, “wake up,” kiss.

He peeked an eye open to look at you, quickly shutting it as he stretched out his limbs, a deep groan echoing in his chest. He relaxed back in your arms, blinking his eyes in quick succession to peer at you with hints of his dream still playing in his head.

“’Morning,” he mumbled, the rasp in his voice only adding to your need for him, his knuckles running over the slope of your jawline.

You leaned down to kiss him again, a slow dancing of lips while the thrushes and blackbirds sang a melody on your windowsill. San was still waking up, you knew that, yet you couldn’t help but nestle closer, holding his face and nuzzling your nose into the side of his as you deepened the kiss. It took him a few seconds to notice your restlessness, your hand slipping off his jaw to run over his sides, sliding under the hem of his shirt and squeezing at the flesh of his waist.

Shaking the last of his drowsiness away, he rolled your bodies sideways until he had you on your back, looking up at him with a mix of confusion and lust. San knew you better than you knew yourself, you remembered as he leaned over you to press a firm, closemouthed kiss to your lips, followed by a trail of tender pecks down your neck. “What’s got you so needy this early in the morning?”

You could feel his smile on your skin as he peppered your neck with kisses, dragging his teeth over your pulse point. “Missed you,” you breathed out, fingers curling around the material hugging his broad shoulders. “Want you.”

San hummed, low in his throat, “I’m here, I’m all yours.” His hands coasted over your sides and down to your hips to hook his fingers into your waistband, slowly sliding off your bottoms and panties in one go, his lips pressing over every inch of newly exposed skin.

Your pants and his haphazardly thrown behind him, San ran both hands down your inner thighs to spread you open, slotting himself between your legs and leaning over you to dot kisses over your jawline and cheeks. “Can I taste you, my darling?”

The rough material of his boxers pressed against your mound, your vision blurring at the friction. “But I want you,” you whined, sliding a hand down his back and resting it over his firm ass to pull him closer.

“Just for a little bit,” he kissed at your pouty lips, grinding his hips into you, the hard outline of his cock straining against the thin fabric. “Please? ‘Wanna feel you on my tongue.”

A shiver ran through you, and you nodded hesitantly, watching as San descended your body with a muttered ‘thank you.’

--

‘Just for a little bit’ faded into the illuminated dust swimming in the air around you, your mind disconnecting from reality the moment San’s lips found your pussy. It felt like hours in a realm of ecstasy, hot arousal gushing out of you with every suck to your clit, your vision blurring when thick fingers breached your entrance. San lapped at your cunt like a starved man, his tongue flattening over your swollen nub while you desperately rolled your hips over his face, exhaling breathy moans as you neared your high for the nth time, only for him to anchor you down on the mattress with an arm over your lower belly, retracting his tongue to press tender kisses over and around your slit.

“No, no,” you whined as your orgasm dwindled, tears pooling in your eyes and your hands tugging at his dark strands, attempting to push his face back onto you. His fingers curled inside you, pushing up into your g-spot to remind you of their presence, hips slowly rutting into the sheets under him. “Sannie, please.”

He slipped out of you to trail soft kisses along the heated skin as he journeyed up your body, pressing his lips to the pout on yours before pulling away to take you in—all teary eyes and slick skin, gilded under the early rays. Strong arms enclosed around you, soft tufts of dark hair tickling the side of your neck as San dipped his head onto your shoulder. Inhaling deeply, he breathed in the familiar scent of your bodywash, a hint of your shampoo tickling his senses as he basked in your warmth. A muttered echo of his name broke him away from you, his lips parting off your skin to allow a string of curses exit, his leaking cock now burrowed between your folds, cockhead teasing over your clit. “Are you ready for me, love?”

Your frantic nodding and pleas brought a smile to his face, lowering himself over you again to gather you into his arms, his hand sliding between your bodies to align himself with your waiting cunt. Your hips jumped when his thick girth breached your entrance, your nails dragging down San’s spine at the gradual stretch. Feathery pecks turned into open-mouthed kisses over your face, San’s heavy breaths interrupted by the comforting gesture. He trailed his lips down your jaw to nuzzle his nose into the skin below your ear, his pants growing into shaky moans when his cock fully sheathed within you, the gentle squeeze of your walls around him shaking his body with violent shivers.

“Please move,” you tried, rolling your hips in protest, and San’s hands scrambled to stop you.

“W-wait, fuck-”

His body convulsed atop yours, a gravelly grunt ripping through his chest as a familiar warmth spread through your lower belly. His cock twitched inside you, spurting pathetic ropes of cum while he curled in on himself, shuddering as his orgasm washed over him unexpectedly with repeated apologies on his tongue. Your hand smoothed over his back, rubbing soothing circled into his skin while he recovered, imagining the bright red coating the cheeks he was hiding from you.

“San?”

He hummed, his voice small.

“Can you look at me?”

He shook his head, soft strands grazing over your skin at the motion.

“Why not?”

He paused, and you could feel the warmth of his face on your shoulder, “’m embarrassed,” he mumbled.

Your palms cupped his heated cheeks, prying him off your skin and holding his head above you to look at him properly. Teary, half-lidded eyes stared back at you, flushed cheeks squished inwards and his lips pouted in chagrin. You guided his face down to yours, pressing comforting kisses over his eyebrow and temple, “no need to be embarrassed, love.”

He huffed out a breath, tilting his head to slot his lips over yours, leaving a chaste kiss on your mouth before wrapping his arms around you to bring you into his chest. His hips began rolling into yours before you could question it, a breathy moan blowing over San’s collarbone as his cock glided over your walls.

“Missed you so much,” he planted a kiss on the side of your neck, “couldn’t help it, ‘felt so good,” he rambled into your skin.

You could feel his cock chubbing up inside you again, San’s soft grunts echoing in your ear as he pushed through the overstimulation. Languid grinding turned into pointed thrusts, rough palms running over the outside of your thighs and guiding them around his waist, waiting until your feet locked at the small of his back before readjusting his angle. With San’s body covering yours and his mouth on your neck, he aimed his cockhead at your g-spot with shallow drives into your sopping heat. He grazed his teeth over your pulse point, a shiver running through you as he littered an array of faint bruises over the column of your throat. In a couple hours, your skin would become a palette of blues and purples, and San would sheepishly scratch at his neck while you reprimanded him for his messy colouring.

San’s cock stilled inside you, moving only to glide the remainder of his length between your fluttering walls. “Where did you go?” Of course he’d caught you zoning out. “I thought I'd get you all to myself now that you were done with exams,” the pout on his lips pulled at your heart strings.

Your fingers ran through his hair, and you leaned upward to peck at his lips, “you have me, Sannie, I’m all yours.”

San smiled, sliding a hand under you to cup the back of your head, catching your lips in a kiss laced with the thick essence of yearning and lust—as though he couldn’t bare part with you ever again, not even to grab a glass of water. “Mine, mine, mine,” he recited against your lips, moving down to pepper kisses over the bruises painting your skin. “Gonna fuck you so full, sweetheart, ‘make sure everyone knows you’re my sweet baby.”

Your hand reached down to his thigh, grazing the soft skin and trailing upward until your palm cupped his plump ass, urging his hips forward and into your cunt. “Want it, please, want you so bad.”

His lips found yours, parting to run his tongue over your cupid’s bow before planting soft, delicate kisses over the corners of your mouth. Your nails dug into the flesh of his ass, eyes rolling back as he pounded into you with boiling desperation. Utterances of ‘missed you’ vibrated over your skin, your chests flush and nipple grazing over each other every time San bucked into you, his words broken-up by airy moans. Through the thick haze coating your brain, you recognized the tingle in your stomach warning you of your impending orgasm, San’s frantic hands touching every patch of skin available to him, his teeth nibbling on the skin of your collarbones while he fucked into you uncontrollably.

“Gonna cum,” he breathed out, lifting his head to take you in with glassy eyes. “Hngh! ‘Missed you so fucking much,” he pulled you into his chest, only to lean back two second later to admire your fucked-out expression—staring back at him with hooded eyes, pleasure soaring through your body and disrupting every thought, San’s relentless pace as he hammered his cock into your pulsating cunt barreling you closer to the edge. “So perfect,” he pushed the damp hair off your forehead. “Gonna fuck you full, darling, can I? ‘Wanna give you all I have,” he babbled, slurring his words as tears welled up in his eyes, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

“Nghh! G-give it to me, Sannie,” you tightened your legs around him, pushing him further into you and clenched around him.

San’s hips stuttered, his steady rhythm replaced with erratic pounding, his cock filling you up before slipping out, only to thrust back into you without relent. The edging, San’s mouth on your clit, his fingers stuffed inside you, only to pull away every time you came close to an orgasm, and now, his cock pressing into you g-spot while his pelvis grinded over your sensitive nub—you weren’t sure which factor pushed you over the edge, except you found yourself tumbling down a verdant, sunlit hill, wildflowers and dandelions sweeping over your skin in your descent. Your vision blurred, the silhouette of a man brimming with adoration going in and out of focus, the soft melody of moans and echoes of your name reverberating in the back of your mind as your orgasm finally rushed through you, your nerves aflame and body jolting over the soiled sheets.

For what felt like hours, he guided you through your high. Leisurely grinds of his hips, rocking back and forth with his cock sheathed deep within you, even after ropes of white joined the previous load he’d fucked into you, your bodies spasming together as tinges of overstimulation mingled with pleasure. His eyes scanned your face, studying the subtle shifts in your features while his hands roamed your body—from the twitch of your eyebrow to the upward curl of your mouth; palms dipping into the contour of your waist, and curving over the slope of your hips, holding you delicately while you trembled in his arms. He slipped out of you at the first whimper leaving your lips, his muscles slackening as the shots of pleasurable pain subsided.

The mattress jumped, San’s body falling sideways into the space beside you, his arms instantly working on tugging you closer to him, inhaling the flowery scent of your shampoo while digging his fingers into the knots in your back.

San’s soft humming carried on until the sun found its locus in the cloudless sky, the rays sharp where they snuck through the gap in your curtains. You slipped in and out of consciousness, the warm body cradling you and the patterned rise and fall of its chest spreading a veil of tranquility over the quiet room. The peacefulness resided even as San pulled you out of bed and into the shower, washing off the sweat and grime with wandering hands and impish touches, high-pitched giggles and squeals echoing between the tiled walls.

It felt like deja’vu, finding yourself curled up in a fluffy blanket on the couch, except this time, San’s firm body enveloped yours while you sipped on your coffee, feline eyes moving off the TV every time you brought the mug to your lips, watching their subtle pout as you swallowed down the steaming liquid. His gaze flitted lower, examining the splashes of purple and blue decorating your neck with a fond—and slightly cocky—smile stretching his lips.  

You remained entrapped within each other’s warmth, the sunlight shifting hues every other hour, from a burning yellow to a warm orange, mixing with magenta and rose when the orb of light neared the horizon. Characters moved around on the large screen: Mulan, then Rapunzel, and now Ariel, the baritone of San’s voice harmonizing with the various ballads blasting through the speakers, your hearty giggles filling up the room when he slipped away from you to dance along with Sebastian to ‘Under the Sea.’

Securing him back in your arms, you watched the rest of the movie in peace, humming the remaining songs and arguing who would get to be the purple mermaid next time you went swimming, the empty bowls of leftover jjigae resting idly on the coffee table, their ceramic reflecting the changing hues of the dying sun.

reblogs/feedback are very, very appreciated!! apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[imjustheremam]

Halloooooooooo!!!

Here's my request!

How would the yandere madcom main four treat a reader who's pretty shy and unaware of their obsession?

Oh wow i never thought I get a request but LETS DO THIS!!

MAIN 4 WITH SHY READER WHO IS UNAWARE OF THEIR OBSESSION

Warnings READ REAAAAAD!!!:this is Gender Neutral, there will be Swearing, Obsession, Possession Manipulation, Threats, Punishment, Kidnapping, Isolation, Violence, Mentioned threats of choking and/or drugging and actual choking and drugging, spoilers . Also I suck I doing yandere but I'm learning, oh and body parts and burning skin!!

2BDAMNED

Ok let's get to the point 2bdamned is a sadistic, manipulator and also the type to experiment on people.

He is the type of yandere to isolate and drugged them if they were being a bad little grunt.

You met him by getting hired to be a medic for the main 3, since he had enough of them getting killed or injured.

But you being unaware of his obsession, makes this worse for yourself but better for himself. And you being shy is kinda cute to him, even if you lost a limb or something you still look cute to him.

If you were in a relationship with him... idk probably manipulate you alot...but anyway

your pretty shy right, Yeah no when you are around him, you get extremely shy/nervous because not only he looks intimidating but this dude tries to have a conversation with you, like out of thin nowhere...

He hardly talks to you so if he ends up speaking prepare your legs to get wobble like jelly because this man just pops out like jumpscare (joke: "I love a kind a women that would actually just kill me" "HUH!?")

But of course he's a yandere so he's going go isolate you in his lab or your room, but would never let you go to his room or outside of S.Q, except for missions.

He won't let you talk to your friends by making you work more in the lab or send you on dangerous missions just to make you stay with him longer, and you only thought he needed help when he doesn't actually need help... ok maybe but not really.

when you try to patch hank or the others, he would join In to "help" you while glaring at hank or the others, and hank seems to know 2bdamned obsessions over you but you don't know that..

Sometimes he would drug you for being bad or failing a mission by faking saying it's medicine for your pain or for your injuries.

Remember when I said he would experiment on people, I wasn't lying he would do it, especially on you but not too much, he would drug you and take you to his private lab for no one can watch him do it... it's only you and him...

But when you do find out 2bdamned gives up and shows is true side as he hreatens you by using drugs or some fuck up shit, but only if you try anything funny...

Sometimes would purposely remove your stitches and let you bleed out until your close to passing out or death...

2bdamned will manipulate your friends to turn against you, just to make you trust him instead of those your so called friends

So he treats you like a lover until you become aware and rebellious

But he won't lie he loves a kinda women/guy that Would actually just kill him

"You can only trust me... my dear... only....me"

DEIMOS

Oh boy this man is hard to tell if he's obsessed because his yandere is the same only he kinda clingy when things don't go his way

He is the type of yandere who is delusional but also steals small things from you and make a shrine(jebus lord what the fu-)

Now if you were in a relationship with him, you wouldn't even notice him being a yandere or anything until you spot a shrine("deimos what is that in your room..." "your smoothie")

Deimos is good at hiding things(kinda) from everyone including from 2bdamned... but 2bdamned will finds out like a stalker he is.

When 2bdamned hired you, deimos was the first one to talk to you and when you stuttered or looked nervous, he immediately thought he met an angel as you get flustered and nervous.

Everytime you Two go on a mission he would make small flirts and compliments as you get flustered like a red tomato.

But deep down those compliments and flirts is a demonic pyro-maniac ready to burn your love ones to ashes...

This dude already knows your unaware and he thinks your shyness and you being really unaware about this, is really cute and innocent...

This guy omg is the one who will never leave you alone, but hey atleast he doesn't kill your friends...until they catch him In the act...

Deimos knows how to manipulate your friends, he's 2bdamned 2.0 but little stupid...

When your talking to your friends, deimos would glare at them, but wouldn't go further than that, unless you leave them...

Deimos, would try to brush off Sanford, since Sanford knows Deimos more than anyone and he is aware of the obsession going on...

Honestly Sanford will feel bad for you and can't stop this situation anymore... your on your own buddy

Now remember buddy. Deimos is a pyro-maniac, so he also has punishments in his sleeves...

However you become aware when you find him killing your friends and boy oh boy you better be faster than him because he's a menace now...

If this grunt ever managed to catch you, your fucked(no not like that) I meant your gonna get punished,this dude will burn your skin, he even will make a burn mark on your skin to show you been very naughty grunt....

Now if you keep being naughty, deimos will kill one of your friends as punishment and you if keep going he might just kill ever friend you have...

He hates when you act rebellious but he does like you to cower in fear, it reminds him of your shyness

He constantly threatens to kills, choke, you and more...

If there one thing both 2bdamned and deimos have in common is definitely isolating you in a room...

"C'mon firefly is not that hard....your mine and im yours.... forever"

SANFORD

Oh lord.... now Sanford is a torturer and sadistic...I think... but lord have mercy on you because you ain't escaping honey...

He's the type of yandere to torturer and chop your leg off but hey... doc can't have that so consider yourself lucky...

If you were in a relationship with him, Sanford would've been nice to you but rude to ti others except for deimos... he's cool...

When you got hired by 2bdamned himself, Sanford was the second to speak as he thought your nervous and Suttering words was funny and adorable...

When you go on missions with him, he mostly either show off, and be loud as always but also... watching you

You only assume that he was just protecting you since you were the support of the team...

Now Sanford isn't a stalker but he would stalk you when you go out somewhere he doesn't know...

If you have friends Sanford will watch and if they get too close to you, Sanford will join in while glaring at them when your not looking..

Now even Sanford can make mistakes like one time he tried to enter your room just to see you and you woke up

Lucky for him, he knew how to lie and you were convinced... ("Sanford why are you in my room..." "I had a nightmare..." "oh")

Now Sanford is like a of one those slashers killers like he kills your friends one by one in the most gruesome way and you won't even know it until Sanford said something really creepy

This is probably how you get aware of his obsession...

Now deimos will notice and try to tell Sanford what he's doing Is creepy and very uncool but Sanford will try to reassure him or brush it off...

Deimos will actually help you but Sanford will catch on and will try different methods for deimos won't be a problem...(he doesn't want to hurt deimos)

Now Sanford may be dumb but he's NOT stupid... this grunt has his own ways to punish and capture you...

If you try to escape prepare to have a broken leg for a damn week that will feel like a month... and punishments are the most freakiest thing ever... ok not that freeky but its fucked up....

Sometimes will bring one of your friends, alive and torture them infront of you as you either cry, beg, or try to stop him... but it doesn't matter because he won't listen...

Don't even try to manipulate him, it won't work....

All this wouldn't have happened,if you just stayed unaware forever....

"My dear don't be scared...just let me love you... and I'll be....nice..."

HANK

Hey yeah you...come over here...yeah a little closer... haha now now get a little closer....yeah right there....

*proceeds to bitch slap you* how the FUCK!!! ARE YOU UNAWARE OF THIS!!!

This dude doesn't even hide it, so how are you unaware of this situation your in...

Ok hank is possessive and obsessive towards you and if you were in a relationship with this dude prepare to no longer see your friends or your boss because he going yo send them to the other place...

He will think your either so innocent or just fucking stupid, hank is the type to stalk and straight up enters your room and watch you sleep, just like Sanford only he straight up just stands there...

When you got hired by 2bdamned like the others, hank was the first one to leave the room because well, he doesn't like to tolerate a weaklings(ouch)

But after some time he begins to like your shyness, you remind him a small scared kitten...

so just like 2bdamned, Hank also makes you extremely shy, not only because he talks out of nowhere, he always behind you or straight up in a place where you won't even think he'll be in...

For example:

You: *drops something on the floor*

You: *Goes to reach it*

*a hand grabs you*

You: *Screams*

Hank: I can't get up...

You: DANG IT GRANDPA/HANK!!!

So yeah that motherfucker could be anywhere. Yet you still unaware of this, God your either dense as fuck or even more stupid...

Now at this point everyone knows hank obsession over you, Sanford will most likely to take you on his missions on purpose, same for deimos only he drags you to other section, that hank isn't allowed to enter...

Now 2bdamned doesn't care but would make sure hank doesn't plan on anything to harm or do something to you...after all your one his workers

But how do you find out he's obsessed with you, simple... Project Nexus...

When Sanford and deimos try to reason with hank, he of course doesn't care. But when you try to reason with him, he still didn't care but will show his full obsession over you as you cringed and felt disturbed...

Now we know how this ends, but if hank won he would had let you live but if you try to stop him futher, say bye bye to your legs honey...

But since Sanford and deimos won, you try to distance yourself away from hank but my man is going to make you suffer

Because now that you know, hank would ultimately make sure your his now and only his... your shy attitude is now a cowardly attitude....

Hank will choke you nearly to death as he gives you dead threats as he holds you against the wall...

Oh no trying to call your friend's for help yeah... think again because they will leave you to die, oh honey you thought they would help you against a wanted man? Aha your really funny buddy

Now torture isn't his style vur if he needs you to obey he won't hesitate, my man while Stab, cut even nearly kill you but of course doc comes in like "goddammit hank" and you get saved hurray...

OH wait... he works for doc...FUUUC-

You wished you stayed unaware but also wished you haven't been born....

"You're Mine and mine only... so quit being a fucking bitch and..."love" me"

Sorry for taking so long I'm still doing requests but I going to be a slower than a turtle, also I tried by best here so I hope you like if you don't then sorry for disappointing you....any way I hope you have a good day/night

[virusimp]

hai‼️it's something new for me to write my first little fanfic in English and.. nsfw?? but my curiosity was stronger than my worries, so here it is.

[ warnings: no one ]

[ valveplug, valve fingering, desperation, crying, Starscream being pathetic again, need, not a very detailed interface but gentle, gender neutral reader, dom reader, sub Starscream, human reader, kinda touch-starved??]

━━━━━━━━━━ × ━━━━━━━━━━

His body was cold to touch, his sharp ventilating was hitting your own soft human skin as if wanting to do small cuts covered with your pathetic blood just to see you suffer. Starscream has already told you more than once how pathetic and disgusting you are for a human. He was telling you that he hates you. But still, for some reason this bastard is moaning and squirming under your warm fingers now, screaming your own name and begging to do more because of his unbelievable hunger. Such a poor touch-starved bird.

Starscream whines loudly into pillow when you touch him right there with your damn fingers, that were already covered in his… pink transfluids? Oh Lord, you’ll joke about that after some time when he’ll forget about this situation between you and him, but not now. He’s too desperate for your love and you know that, praising him softly in his audio-sensors and making him look at you with those puppy eyes, really wanting to hear those words again and again with all his spark while you fragging him with your precious fingers. He’ll moan for you louder; he’ll cry for you and he’ll do anything for you… only if you continue to show your love and admiration. Only if you continue love him.

Anyone would use him for that pathetic trait, and the seeker is still shocked to see you with him, to see how your eyes look at him even now when he is a real wet mess. You do love him. You love him even if he treated you badly. You love him just for nothing and that’s confusing him. And that makes him sob quietly, still shuddering when you gently move your fingers inside of his valve.

“Is everything okay?” and again that question. His optics are watering and that’s your damn fault! Starscream tried to nod with quiet whine, but your sudden caress of his thigh makes him shudder and cry out with already broken vocalizer. He just overloaded because of your question? Or because it was too much for him and he would cum only because of realization that you care? Oh dear. You see him hardly ventilating, grasping the bedsheets under him with those trembling long thick claws. His valve was clutching around your fingers, not wanting to let go. Starscream in some sort of breakdown right now, he is overwhelmed with your actions and words. With your love.

“My star…” you carefully pulled out your fingers, wiping them from sticky fluids and moving closer to him. Your words made his wings flutter weakly, and now he is calling your name softly, desperately trying to find you through his own thoughts and fears. Starscream needs you, he always needed you. “It seems like everything was stronger for you this time?”

He still doesn't answer you for several minutes, shuddering weakly when you lie down next to him and gently embrace him. Oh Starscream needed that so badly right now, pulling you closer to him and tightening his grip on you. You can feel how damn painfully it is when he holds you with his claws as if wanting to merge you with his own body. You can feel the heat is coming from his systems, how his engines are purring quietly. It was painful to be with him but you can't do anything about this. Your deep scars or bruises on your skin was sign of Starscream's deep love for you.

“I guess… it was, human.”

oh he loves you so much.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [9] - Lavender

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: A rushed engagement raises certain questions.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms.

Word Count: 4300

Series Masterlist

This could not be happening.

No. There was no way.

You rushed out of the carriage as soon as it came to a stop and gathered your skirts to climb the marble stairs leading up to your house as fast as you could, ignoring your aunt saying your name. Darting through the door, you did not even stop to catch your breath, instead you made your way upstairs and passed through the hallway until you reached your room and opened the door, then closed it behind you and leaned back to it, your eyes burning with unshed tears.

With just one kiss, you were now to be married.

You had to give it to him, Benedict could be an excellent liar when he wanted to, or at least when your reputation was hanging by a thread.

“Married?” Lady Featherington said, doubt apparent in her tone and Lady Bridgerton’s eyes widened. Your aunt gasped.

“What?”

Benedict reached out to entwine his fingers with yours, squeezing your trembling hand lightly before running his thumb over your skin, trying to calm you down.

“You must forgive me for my shock,” Benedict said, shooting them that crooked grin of his, the one that you suspected had gotten him out of trouble multiple times. “I proposed to Miss Y/N just a moment before you caught us, what you saw was nothing more than our…enthusiastic happiness for our engagement.”

You gawked at him. “But—”

He shot you a look, making you frown before he turned to them again.

“I told my mother, she was supposed to ask Lady Thorne but I’m afraid I could not wait that long,” he said, motioning at her. “Mother, you haven’t had the chance to tell Lady Thorne I assume?”

Lady Bridgerton blinked a couple of times, then managed to smile.

“Not yet,” she said, causing Lady Danbury to raise her brows and she turned to look at your aunt. “Caroline, I was waiting for the end of the ball but you know young lovers, they rarely possess any patience.”

Your aunt looked at you. “Y/N, is that true?”

You felt as if you were watching this whole disaster from afar but somehow, your mind decided to follow Benedict’s lead for a reason unknown to you at that moment.

“I was going to tell you,” you managed to say when you found your voice and forced a small smile. “Upon Lord Shaw’s proposal, I had an epiphany.”

“…An epiphany?” she repeated and you nodded.

“Yes.”

“We’re in love,” Benedict added helpfully, holding up your entwined hands and you closed your eyes for a moment, then opened them and nodded again.

“What he—what he said.”

A silence fell upon you and your aunt pressed a hand over her chest.

“My dearest, you should’ve told me beforehand! Oh, so many things to do—”

“Does Lord Thorne know about this?”

Your aunt waved a hand in the air. “My husband will be happy beyond words that our Y/N finally found love!”

Lady Featherington arched a brow, looking between you two as if she was trying to see through your lie, then heaved a sigh.

“Well I suppose it’s less of a scandal, but a scandal nonetheless,” she pointed at you and Benedict. “The fact that you’re engaged does not condone that type of behavior, you are to wait until you’re lawfully wedded to engage in such…matters.”

“They’re in love and are to be married my dear Lady Featherington,” Lady Danbury spoke for the first time. “Leave them be.”

“When is the wedding?”

“We haven’t…”

“We will decide on it once Lord Thorne is made aware of this,” Lady Bridgerton said. “We must wait for his approval as well.”

“Y/N, come on,” your aunt motioned at you and grabbed your arm to pull you closer. “We’re going back home, I must give the good news to your uncle!”

You pressed your palms into your eyes until you saw shiny dots in the dark, then lowered your hands to your lap. It hadn’t hit you back then, but now that you were thinking about it…

The moment they had seen you together it was decided for you, you had to be married. The only difference was whether the ton would think it was by your choice or that you were being forced to do so, or worse, whether you had trapped him by doing so. Considering the rumors about him and Charlotte -and no thanks to Lady Whistledown- everyone thought you were already placing yourself in the way of years long courtship, and by lying right to their faces about a proposal and you two being in love, Benedict had made sure that no one could speak anything badly of you, at least as far as this situation went.

Yet, that did nothing to put your heart at ease.

You knew what husbands were like, you knew what he would turn into no matter how sweet and understanding he seemed so far, you knew the moment he got angry—

“Clover?”

Your head shot up at your uncle’s voice behind the door along with the soft knock, and you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand before pushing yourself off the floor to fix your dress, trying to look as decent as possible.

“Come in, uncle.”

He opened the door and stepped inside, worry etched over his features.

“Were you crying?”

“I’m…” You wiped at your nose. “I’m overwhelmed, that is all. It was a long night.”

“I know, I just heard,” he pointed at the door with his thumb. “Your aunt is on cloud nine.”

At least someone was happy about tonight.

“But the way she told me of the incident,” he said, motioning at you to sit down on the chair by the table, then pulled himself a seat as well. “It makes me question certain things.”

“Like what?”

“You’re in love with Benedict Bridgerton?”

You paused before nodding your head. “Uh huh.”

“Dearest, the last time we spoke you said he annoyed you and that you would never marry him.”

“Yes I know but I had an epiphany,” you repeated your lie from earlier. “Lord Shaw’s proposal made me think about marriage and tonight with Ben—with Mr Bridgerton,” you corrected yourself. “It felt right.”

At least that wasn’t a complete lie. That kiss had felt right, like you were both made for kissing each other and nothing more. It was as if you were always meant to be, as if this desire pushing you to each other ever since you had met him was fate—

But it wasn’t and you knew it very well. That was merely bait, some sort of lure to make you lower your defenses.

Perhaps the ton had been wrong.

You weren’t the Venus Flytrap here, he was.

“And you want this?” your uncle said. “Clover my dear, you can tell me if you do not. We would figure it out, I assure you.”

You bit inside your cheek, deep in thought. As genuine as it was, you knew there was nothing he could do. If you and Benedict didn’t get married after tonight, it wasn’t just your reputation that would be ruined, it was your uncle and aunt’s as well. They would be outcasted from the respectable society of London, so would Teddy and—

No. You could not simply sit back and watch that happen.

You managed to will a smile on your face, then nodded again.

“Of course,” you managed to say. “What else could I possibly want?”

                                                 *

You couldn’t sleep that night. Even though you had tried your hardest to at least find some refuge in sleep, you kept tossing and turning in bed and the moment you dozed off, you woke up gasping for air. The morning wasn’t so good either, you had told your aunt you wanted to be the one to tell Teddy but the moment you so much as mentioned getting married -the word still felt foreign in your mouth- Teddy had ran to his room and slammed the door behind him. Even though you could’ve opened the door and walked in, you decided to try to convince him to open the door himself.

“Teddy?” you knocked on the door and only heard a sniffle from the other side of the door, the sound making you feel as if someone was squeezing your heart. “May I come in?”

“No!”

You bit inside your cheek. “Don’t be like this,” you said. “Please. I know that it’s very sudden—”

“You promised!”

That was more than enough to send tears to your eyes but you gritted your teeth at yourself and blinked back the tears.

“I know,” you said. “I didn’t plan this, I swear to you.”

“I don’t believe you!” he shouted from the other side and you leaned your forehead on the door, keeping quiet for a moment.

“I wouldn’t either,” you murmured and pulled back, drumming your fingernails on the wood. “Teddy, come on. Open the door so that we can talk face to face, hm?”

You heard the shuffling of his footsteps before the door cracked open so that you could see the half of his face, his eyelashes wet with tears. You could feel your heart dropping but you offered him a small smile.

“May I come in?”

He pouted his lips and opened the door wider before walking back to his bed, and plopped down on it with a huff. You sat down on the bed as well and crossed his arms, looking at you with a frown.

“Who are you getting married to?” he asked like a demand and you swallowed thickly.

“You’ve met him before,” you said. “Outside the flower exhibition, remember?”

Teddy narrowed his eyes as if trying to remember, then looked up at you. “He was tall.”

“Mm hm, he is quite tall. And he was friendly with you, no?”

Teddy shrugged his shoulders, keeping quiet.

“Did you like him?” you asked him and he shrugged again.

“I don’t know yet.” he said. “Why did you lie to me and said you wouldn’t marry anyone soon?”

You shook your head fervently. “I didn’t lie to you,” you said. “It was a…sudden decision.”

“If you marry him, does that mean you will move to his house?”

You managed to keep your expression still by some miracle.

“Yes but I will come and see you every day,” you assured him. “Every single day, like I still live here—”

“But you won’t live here.”

“No,” you said after a beat. “But I’m not going to be far away from here, it’s not the same situation as Josie.”

“Josie left.”

“I know that but I’m not leaving,” you said. “You’re my little brother, I could never, ever leave you Teddy. I swear on my life.”

He rubbed at his eye before snuggling closer to you and you wrapped your arms around him to give him a tight hug.

“Can I visit you there?”

“I’d be very sad if you didn’t,” you said, burying your nose into his hair like you used to when he was a baby and he sniffled.

“But it won’t change things, will it?” he asked. “Marriage?”

You tried to ignore the familiar fear filling you upon the mention of marriage and you closed your eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath.

“Of course not,” you lied through your teeth. “I can assure you my dearest, nothing will change.”

                                                     *

If it were any other time, you would have thrown yourself to your garden as a distraction but for the very first time in your life, you had a feeling it would be futile. All you wanted was just burying yourself into the fluffy covers and sleep until the events of last night disappeared from your mind but it was impossible. With Teddy having his lessons with his tutor, you had nothing to do but be alone with your thoughts. After writing your letter to Josie explaining what happened last night, you placed it on the small table in the foyer for the butler to send it with the rest of the letters, you made your way to the music room where you knew would be empty. Your aunt was so enthusiastic to talk about the upcoming wedding but even thinking about it was enough to make you feel as if you were being smothered, so you made your way to the music room where you knew would be empty.

And no one would look for you there anyway.

At least that was what you thought.

You were so emotionally exhausted that you hadn’t even noticed yourself dozing off on the sofa and for what it was worth, you were quite certain you had been asleep for about half a minute when you heard the butler announcing Benedict’s name. Your whole body jolted awake as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water on you, and you felt your heartbeat getting faster as you sat up in the sofa. You weren’t ready to see him after last night and you were hoping he shared the sentiment, so you took a step to the door in order to close it, but that was when he entered the hallway and apparently saw you out of the corner of his eye because he turned to head.

“Y/N.”

The events of last night flashed through your mind but even that wasn’t enough for you to completely ignore the slight warmth spreading through your chest upon hearing your name from his lips.

No, you could not—

You could not afford to have that kind of confusion, especially now.

You crossed your arms, shooting him an icy glare which made him frown slightly, then looked around.

“May I come in?”

You shrugged your shoulders, biting inside your cheek as he stepped inside and you caught the sight of a white envelope in his hand. He followed your gaze and held it up.

“It’s uh—it’s a dinner invitation for you and your family from my mother,” he said. “After last night, I figured it’d be better to give it to your aunt in person.”

You dug your fingernails into your palm. “You could just tell her you changed your mind, you know.”

He stared at you for a moment. “And ruin your life?”

He had a point there.

It was impossible to break this engagement without having your name dragged through the mud, especially considering the position you were caught in last night. If either of you broke the engagement, it would mean a scandal for the both of you -particularly you- so you knew as well as he did that it was out of question.

You shrugged your shoulders again, letting out a furious breath.

“That ship has long sailed for me,” you murmured. “And for you as well.”

His eyes flickered over your face and he took a step towards you but you immediately stepped back, making him freeze in his spot.

“Y/N,” he said after a beat. “I know it wasn’t something we talked of or planned before and I apologize for the manner that it happened but if I didn’t say that, they’d tear you apart.”

That was putting it lightly.

If you two were caught kissing without marriage in the horizon? Benedict would be criticized yes, but he could walk away unharmed in the end. With the family he had and his artistic talents which was surely going to make him famous judging by the admiration of the ton, no one would even bring it up to him a couple of years down the line.

You on the other hand?

The ton wouldn’t stop until they were picking at your dead body like vultures.

And even hours after in all this mess, you could still remember how that fire felt. You had gone to him willingly, kissed him willingly and if it weren’t for this freezing fear of what was to happen once you were married, even now you still would—

Oh you were a goddamn idiot.

Not only were you a goddamn idiot, this was also pathetic. He was being forced into this just as much as you were, and just because he managed to cover it better than you did not mean you couldn’t see through the lie. He did not want to get married, that much was obvious to anyone and he certainly wasn’t planning on marrying you. He was supposed to get married to someone like Charlotte, someone softer, someone nicer, someone who was the complete opposite of you.

Last night was just a lapse of judgement on both sides, that was all.

“I know,” you said, shifting your weight from one foot to other as you unfolded your arms. “I’m well aware of it.”

“I wasn’t trying to trick or trap you—”

“This conversation would have gone very differently if I believed you were,” you cut him off and his eyes searched your face.

“Yet you resent me.”

“No more than you will resent me,” you pointed out and he pulled his brows together.

“Resent you?” he asked. “Y/N, why would I resent you?”

You shot him a glare.

“I didn’t walk away, did I?” you asked him. “Last night. Everything would have been different if I just walked away and went back to the ballroom, but I didn’t—”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Benedict…”

“I am,” he insisted as he reached to hold your hand, making you close your eyes for a moment. “I do not regret it, not a single second.”

“You should,” you muttered as you opened your eyes but fixed your gaze on the floor and he hesitated for a second.

“Do you?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to lie and say yes, not when you could still taste his kiss on your lips, not when you knew deep down that you still craved him. You would have done anything to escape the consequences but you couldn’t—

You couldn’t bring yourself to regret that moment, not at all.

A sigh escaped from you as you forced yourself to pull your hands from his, then crossed your arms over your chest again.

“I do not, but—”

“Then it changes nothing.”

A bitter chuckle left your lips. “Please stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Taking me for a fool.”

He tilted his head. “I’m not doing that.”

“Yes you are!” you insisted and he ran a hand over his eyes.

“Y/N…”

“It changes everything and you know that, you—” you stopped yourself, shaking your head. “I honestly do not have time for this, I must go check on Teddy.”

He looked like he wanted to disagree but you walked past him before he could say anything, then turned around when you reached the door.

“As far as the whole ton and our families are concerned, we are in love and I understand that we will have to pretend as such,” you said. “And I appreciate you doing what you did, but it’s just us here so there’s no need to lie to each other. You would’ve never married me and I would’ve never married you if it weren’t for the ton forcing us so stop taking me for a fool, because I’m too smart to be deceived by this whole charade.”

He stared at you, a flash of sadness crossing his handsome features, making your heart drop but you swallowed thickly.

“My aunt is in the drawing room,” you told him. “I’m sure she will be delighted by your family’s invitation. Have a lovely day, Mr. Bridgerton.”

With that, you turned around and walked away from him, your heart still beating in your ears.

                                                     *

Towards the afternoon, you were so desperate to get away from your thoughts that you decided to get out of the house. Going to the city center to buy some seeds for your garden sounded like a good idea, so you took your maid with you since your aunt was already very busy with choosing what to wear to the dinner at the Bridgerton house.

Since it had happened just last night, it hadn’t hit Whistledown yet and you didn’t think Lady Bridgerton had told anyone, so at least today you did not have to deal with anyone.

Tomorrow on the other hand, was going to be another story.

“Lavenders, my lady?” Paula asked and you nodded.

“They’re very easy to grow,” you said, taking the small bag full of lavender seeds. “And my aunt really likes the smell of them, I think it’ll make her happy to see them in the garden.”

“Will you plant them to your own garden as well?”

You turned your head. “My own garden?”

“For when you marry Mr. Bridgerton?” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I just…heard some maids in the kitchen talking about it.”

You gulped down and tried to smile, then shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said. “But no. I will not do much gardening after I marry Mr. Bridgerton.”

Paula frowned. “But you like gardening.”

Well yes.

You did like gardening, but keeping a garden meant Benedict could use it to hurt you whenever he would get mad at you, so you weren’t just going to give it to him.

“I’m sure I will have other responsibilities,” you murmured and made your way to the counter so that you could pay for the seeds, then you and Paula left the flower shop.

“Are you tired?” you asked her and she shook her head.

“Not at all, my lady.”

“Wonderful. I want to go by that pastry shop that Teddy likes to buy him some sweets—”

“Miss Y/N.”

You looked over your shoulder and turned around with a slight frown on your face. Though you hadn’t been properly introduced, you already knew Benedict’s older brother, Viscount Bridgerton. You had seen him multiple times in the ballrooms with the same frown that he had right now, which seemed permanent on his face and it was quite obvious that he knew who you were.

If you had to guess, he also knew about your very sudden engagement.

“Lord Bridgerton.”

“We should talk,” he said, “I can take you to wherever it is you and your maid are going, get in the carriage.”

Ah.

Alright, it was very obvious you two would not get along well.

You blinked a couple of times. “Pardon?”

“Get in the carriage,” he nodded in the direction of his carriage and you looked up at the sky for a moment, pretending to think about it.

“Mm no I’d rather not.”

He looked rather surprised but managed to recover quickly.

“I’m the head of the family you’re joining,” he reminded you. “And I was not asking.”

“Good for you, I am still saying no,” you deadpanned and he raised his brows.

“Do you wish to have this conversation on the street then?”

“Honestly this last minute just proves to me that I don’t wish to have any conversation with you anywhere, Lord Bridgerton,” you said. “But don’t take this personally. I just have this principle to not follow orders from people who are under the very false impression they can give me any.”

Anthony paused for a moment and let out a scoff, then nodded at Paula.

“Give us a moment.”

Paula took a couple of steps away from you so that she wouldn’t be within earshot and you crossed your arms, watching him with raised brows.

“I’ve been informed about the events of last night,” he said. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

You rolled your eyes. “Much appreciated.”

“Now I do not understand why Benedict decided to throw away years of courtship with Miss Harlowe for you,” he said, making your heart skip a beat. “But she happens to be a very close family friend, so I’m sure you can understand my hesitation.”

You tried to ignore the guilt seeping into your system. “Your hesitation?”

“I know that you two will present a different truth to the ton than what actually happened.”

You could feel your heart dropping to your stomach but you managed to keep your expression completely blank.

“Let me guess,” you said. “You think—”

“It doesn’t matter what I think about the issue, what’s done is done,” he cut you off. “Your reputation and his honor hangs in balance, obviously you two must get married. There’s no other option here.”

“Yet here you are, telling me things I already know,” you pointed out. “Thank you for the news Lord Bridgerton but I’m afraid I figured that out myself without your much needed input.”

He shook his head slightly and heaved a sigh.

“I know that my brother has a soft spot for you for a reason that remains a mystery to me,” he said. “Apparently that made him quite illogical last night. Now, on your part I do not know whether it was on purpose to be seen together or—”

The anger shot through you so fast that it made your head spin, and before he could so much as finish his sentence, you turned around and took a step to leave, trying your hardest to remember that you were in public in order to keep your fury under control.

“I’m not done talking,” he said and you stopped dead in your tracks, then turned to look at him better.

“I am.”

He gave a dry chuckle. “Well, would you do me the honor of sparing me a minute of your much precious time?”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him.

“No,” you said curtly, making him give you a mocking smile.

“Considering your reputation among your suitors my lady, it doesn’t surprise me you like to have the last word,” he commented. “And for that last word to be no.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh and clicked your tongue, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Considering your reputation among ladies, my lord,” you said. “Maybe your last word should have been no.”

He pulled back, his mouth slightly agape in shock while you smiled at him and dropped a curtsy, then turned around and walked away from him with Paula following you suit.

Chapter 10

[barely-coherent]

I'm having baby fever so here

OBEY ME BROTHERS AND WHAT SEX THEIR KIDS ARE

(Obligatory sex and gender are not the same thing, okay thanks)

Lucifer

Girl dad 100%

And be would spoil her so much

Are you kidding?

Diavolo would also be obsessed with her

"Lord Diavolo, can I please have my daughter back?"

"But she's so precious!!"

Anyway, she grows up thinking Diavolo is her uncle

Probably calls him "Uncle Dia"

Mammon

First of all, Tumblr give us yellow text, dammit

Also a girl dad

He just screams girl dad to me

He would be the most emotional out of the dads if I'm being honest

He would probably start sobbing on their first day of school

He would almost definitely ask some of his crows to keep an eye on her

Y'know what, she brings one of his crows for show and tell

"This is my dad's bird and he brings me things sometimes."

Leviathan

Boy dad

They play video games together

IM NOT SAYING GIRLS CAN'T PLAY VIDEO GAMES

Levi would absolutely not tolerate any girls going through that "Omg, Jean Kirstein is my son and my husband"

He would immediately be like "Him? Oh my god, disowned."

I'm joking, I love Jean, I just had that phase and I cringe at it

They would do duo cosplays

OH MY GOD FAMILY COSPLAYS

Like Aiz//awa and Shin//sou oh my god

Satan

He could go either way

Actually, he has twins

One girl, one boy

He gave them cat pajamas

He also reads them bedtimes stories

He has like a million books, there's a couple kids books somewhere

If there aren't, it gave him an excuse for more books

Oh my god, he would read while rocking a baby to sleep

Asmodeous

Again, he feels like a girl dad

BUT IF IT WAS A BOY

You know that guy at your school that everyone wanted to date?

Yeah, that's his son

Or like the girl that even the straight girls would entertain the thought of?

You know where this is going

But his daughter would be the cutest little girl, dear lord

"We should do a face mask!"

"Asmo, she's gonna eat the face mask. Kids put everything in their mouths."

He pouts for a bit but it's okay

He loves using the really soft scented baby lotion and shampoo

He's obsessed with how soft their skin is

Beelzebub

Girl dad

AND IM SAYING THIS FOR MY PLUS SIZE BADDIES

HE WOULD NOT CARE

Like his daughter comes home all sad

"What's wrong?"

"These girls were calling me fat"

The next day and like

"Those girls apologized!"

"How strange!"

Please tell him to stop threatening children

Belphegor

He doesn't really strike me as either...

So either, just like Satan

But they would nap together 100%

And he's actually pretty okay

I feel like be would actually be a really good dad

"I had a nightmare"

"Go back to sleep, I'll protect you from nightmares."

And he does!

I feel like he can do like dream magic

Makes sure they only have good dreams

[leeknowsintrusivethots]

A Stray Concubine

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Pairings: Prince!Lee Know/You, Prince!Bangchan/You, RivalNoble!Hyunjin/You? We are all about possibility here. Summary: Entering into a harem choosing was something you have been groomed for since you were young. Your aim is to make Crown Prince Christopher fall at your heels in order to restore your ruined family name and fortune, but games of love are much harder than games of lies and deceit. Content: Angst (is it me if it's not?), slow burn, smut(warnings below when applicable), fictional historical universe, dark themes, second person perspective, historical-typical gender roles, imperial harem-inspired concubine system, multi-pov, lotsa plot/world building, political intrigue WC: 5246 Minors do not interact. Do not repost my content to other websites.

Taglist: @blondechannie @torialefay

Notes: Things got out of hand. Side note, our main character now has a last name to avoid the excessive use of 'Y/N.'

You

“I’ve heard the young Lord Hwang is here in the Capital for the festivities.” 

“I do wonder what the the Lord is up to now. 'Twas a nasty business with his parents' death and all.” 

A flutter of feminine words carried by the cool breeze of dusk. They were as hollow as the chirping of birds, but with the weight of lords clanging swords. 

“I suppose that's why he's here,” the middle aged gentleman said conspiratorially to his companion. He was dressed in the fine, rich fabrics of the upper class, but his dress did not hide the lascivious glances he would steal at the young woman he spoke to. 

It was another lesson you had learned: social standing was meaningless when it came to the lustful notions of men. It didn't matter King, priest or commoner; all men floundered their morals when presented with something pretty dressed in silks. This gentleman was no different. 

“It's such a shame to have felt such tragedy so young,” the woman said softly. It was another flutter, a fine beating of appropriate sympathy and poise. Whatever lot she had hailed from, she had been trained well. 

“Oh,” the gentleman intoned with a glance around him. He seemed to be looking for something, or someone. He scanned the ladies and lords who conversed and drank around him quickly before his eyes settled. He was looking directly at you. 

You had been wandering through the throngs, seeing and being seen for most of the festivities. You had to ensure you played your part of a well-bred lady making connections. It also served to listen; gauging the mood of the nobles who inhabited the palace alongside the royal residents. You had expected attention, but none so blatant. 

“But I do hear the daughter of the Wicked Witch of House Sterling is in attendance,” the man stated, loudly enough for his feminine companion, you, and everyone within the breadth of the long table he occupied to hear. Lords and ladies alike recoiled as if hit. Some laughed with unease, but most seemed unsettled by the reminder of years past. 

“My Lord,” she exclaimed with exaggerated scandal covering her classically attractive features. She fanned herself as if the wave of her hand could rid her of the shock of his statement. “Is it true?”

“It is, my dear. They say The Witch and her daughter ensorcel men with the bat of their lashes, and use their livelihood to keep themselves young and beautiful. I fear for the young bucks of the court.”

The woman saw her cue, and like any well trained woman – she took it. She leaned in with the bat of her own lashes to whisper into the man's ear. At her attention, his own wandered from you back to her and her hands on his weak shoulders. She pulled back just far enough to wink directly at you. She was playing the game, and she was playing it well. 

Grateful for her intervention, you gathered your skirts loosely in hand and set off through the crowds. 

The banquet hall of the palace was large enough to house the entirety of the nobles in the realm and most of their major retainers as well. It was a grand structure with elegance and richness built into the very walls. Tapestries with the heraldry of the Bangs hung from every beam and nook— The yellow eyes of the black and white wolf following all those who dared their presence with a sly keenness. 

The women who made up the King's Harem had their own heraldry, passed down from the families they hailed from and kept if only as a token of fondness from their lives before. They were not permitted to hang in places of state, nor were they permitted to even be within eyesight of the Wolf. It was a threat to their power to place such importance on lower houses, and could be seen as an act of treason to even suggest such. 

It was a shame. The banners of houses Seo and Yang in particular were vibrant and colorful. They would have brought life to the white, gray and black of House Bang but nothing could overshadow the crowned wolves. 

Your thoughts of banners and symbols were a distraction from what you planned. The beating of your heart had its own flutter, one far less beautiful and flattering than the woman from earlier. It's crescendo sped as you stepped into the line of courtiers that neatly led up to the dais where the royal family sat like pretty paintings. The line moved, but painstakingly slow. It inched forward like the crawling of a slug after a hard rain, and you could only wish someone would salt you and be done with it. 

Those in front and behind you chatted and carried about merrily as they waited their turn. They were of two sorts: simple creatures who had neither hide nor hair in the affairs of court or sordid schemers whose flattery and lies were concealed enough to be on the winning end. They had no fears of how their presence would be received by the rulers of their realm. They were safe, while your head was already placed on the metaphorical chopping block. 

Your only hope at calm were the banners.

Every time the herald at the head of the procession called out names and titles, you brought their banners to mind. House Jeon, Lords of the Anpanman Woods: a wooded forest with an archer riding atop a monstrous hare at its forefront. House Wang, Wardens of the Southern Border: a thin sword with a snarling hound’s head as the pommel. House Kwon, Protectors of the Treasures of the East Sea: an extravagantly colorful sea dragon dripping in molten gold as it ascends from a deep blue ocean. House Min, Keepers of the Western Jungles: a rare, white tiger stalking amongst a dark green growth.

Every Great Lord was in attendance with their minor counterparts, and every one of them had their proud banners and symbols with deep rooted history and lore. You had been taught all of them by your tutors in your childhood, growing up with stories of their conquests and lineages.

You remembered that House Jeon was one of the youngest of the great houses, rising to power by claiming the timber bounty of their woods. House Wang was older and more storied, a history of mismatched allegiances with the King across the wastes and ancient claims to the Crown of Miroh. House Kwon was even older and as powerful as it was queer: Sea Lords with ties to the Free Isles in the West. House Min was the most shrouded. They were covered in the mythos of legends, with fact and fiction blurring reality.

“Lord Hyunjin, of House Hwang, Keepers of the Heartlands,” the Herald called. Their banners depict a common ferret curling around a brilliant sapphire. They were upstarts who had risen with the Bang's rule; they were no friends of you or yours.

You watched as the handsome Lord smiled and jested with the Royals, even with stern King Bang himself. He seemed to pay close attention to the Princes’ Christopher and Felix. It would not do to dwell, but you noted his connections with a keen interest. 

The Hwang's had been close to the crown for more than two centuries, since the House Bang had risen from their ancestral home of the Forded Rivers to claim the throne through blood and war. The Hwang's had been Champions of the cause, steadfast allies of the offensive in the Red Rebellion . Their loyalty had not been forgotten and their rise had been meteoric and quick compared to the lengthy reigns of other Great Houses. In a matter of a few generations, they had risen from titles minor landholders to a major power in the politics of the realm. You had no doubt that Lord Hwang sought even more favors with the friendships he curried with the Princes. 

As you continued your wait, you watched the man in question lobby about. He was tall, but graceful and as elegant as any old house could be. Even as he spoke to fellow couriers, he was refined but approachable in a way that most were not. He smiled coyly at another courtier before his eyes met yours and his lips fell flat. You averted your gaze quickly, your mind faltering. You had not killed Princess Mai, but his stare suggested otherwise. 

“Young Lady Sterling,” was all you received from the Herald when your time came. There were no titles, no honors, no places of power. All you had was a family name that was dying, connected to a murderous traitor. 

Relying on your training in graces and decorum, you dropped to your knees and bowed to the family who ruled the lands you called home and recited words from a distant memory. “Of bravery and courage, of rule and might; blessed and long be your reign.”

“You may rise,” King Bang commanded.

And so you rose to regard the man who condemned your father to death.

He sat in the middle of the dais with his queen to his right and his Most Favored, Beauty Lee, to his left. She was as resplendent as ever in expensive silks with her hair coiffed into the most stylish fashion with a pleasant smile curving her rouged lips. The queen was more somber. She wore the dark purple hues of royalty, and kept a regality that was unapproachable to say the least. She regarded you coolly, but you could see the hostility in her eyes. Princess Mai had been her natural daughter. 

“You certainly favor your mother,” King Bang commented gruffly. It was not an exclamation of emotion, it was a simple observation.

“I’m pleased to hear I have my mother's charms, Your Majesty,” you replied with eloquence. You spoke softly, keeping a demure coyness about yourself that you had honed to a fine art.

“She was always a welcome sight,” the King added. Courtly arrogance mixed with courtly love. He too was playing the game. He blessed you with a smile that had the scar at the corner of his mouth standing to prominence before posing a question that had you caught off guard. “Which one of my sons is it then?”

“I'm sorry your majesty, I don't–”

“Is it the laughing and fierce Prince Jeongin? Or mayhaps the shy and courtly Prince Jisung? Or do you prefer the bold and strong Prince Changbin?” 

“I–”

“Or perhaps your mother plans to aim higher?” He barreled along, his words never losing the flirting intrigue of courtly love but gaining the edge of a longsword. He glanced down the table of the dais, past his queen and to the silver crown threaded with dark iron wolves that sat atop Price Christopher’s head. He made no comment, but he did give you a look akin to pity. You hated it that look and everything it stood for.

“Your Majesty,” you spoke, inflicting an intentional waver to your voice and forcing your eyes to water with tears. It was not hard to fein being the weak, scared girl that King Bang required of you. “I would never dare to presume any grand intentions. I a humble servant of the crown, and I will do whatever you require to earn your love back for the House Sterling.”

“I owe no love to your family, young lady, and I never intend to. House Sterling is dying, and I will not save the family of Traitors. It's only by the good graces of your Mother that you both were not banished across the northern border.” The edge was dulling. One flutter. Two flutters. A few more until it wouldn't even be able to cut butter. 

“My mother has retaken her maiden name, returning to the mantle of the Jeons. I have no such luxury, Your Majesty. I will forever be cursed by the sins of my father, but I will forever work to make amends.” A flutter of a sweet song. Honeyed with the naivety of a girl, and blessed to come from pretty lips. The blade was dulled, but you were set on making it crumble to iron dust. 

“And how would you do that?”

“Put me to work, Your Majesty. I will slave as a Maid until I earn your love, or my death.”

A rumble went up behind you at your proclamation. You paid them no mind. Your attention was on the King. 

He's the king of a realm. Make him feel like the King of the world. The only man within your sights. The highest of them all– a God.

“The youngest of the formerly Great House Sterling content to scrub floors and empty chamber pots?”

“My House’s pride is nothing to me. I serve the crown before all others. My duty is to to realm, Your Majesty– to you.” You dropped to your knees to peform the formal bow again. It was a sign of respect, a sign of your servitude. 

“You may outdo your mother's charms yet,” the King remarked with a hidden smile playing in the shadows his golden, heavily bejewelled crown cast upon his face. “I will discuss your plight with my Councilors, Lady Sterling. Until a decision is made, you are welcome to feast and revel in the glory of the Royal Court.”

“You are most kind and just, Your Majesty.” You stood from the ground with the help of the Herald. He touched you delicately and respectfully as the flutters stirred up the dust of iron. You had won. It was a small victory, the first of many, but it was still a victory. 

In the haze of the glittering particles, the court watched.

Beauty Lee regarded you with renewed interest. Queen Bang was stony, her murderous eyes portraying her displeasure but no words leaving her pursed lips. The Princes all watched with varying levels of interest in their Father's affairs, but the only one whom mattered still looked at you with pity. 

It stoked your anger. You were a daughter of the Great Sterlings, former Wardens of the war torn Northern Borders. Your family was fierce and proud, tempered by the harsh climate and the even harsher hands of the war torn barbarians. You had the blood of warlords, conquers, and leaders. You may strip your pride to appease the King, but it would always be in your heart. You hated the Princes' pity, but you could use it in the same way you used the King's fondness for beautiful damsels.

His son would be no different. He would fall at your feet, ready to restore you and your family for no other reason than the love of being a hero for a the songs of singers across the continent. It was as simple as playing him like the harp you spent so many hours practicing. His tune would be notes of restoration and riches. 

“Lady Sterling!” A boy called as you made for the Hall’s exit for a breath of fresh air and to revel in your victory. He was young, freshed faced with the hint of acne playing across his forehead. He dressed in the livery of House Wang: the metallic glint of iron present on all the accents of his dark clothing. He bowed politely before handing you a scratch of gray fabric.

It was rimmed with shiny silver thread and had intricate wolves with gems inlaid into the fabric for eyes at all four corners. The initials LMH elegantly scrawled along the center in delicate lines and swirls. 

It was a royal favor, but not the one you had desired.

Christopher

To the great ire of their father, Minho had refused his place on the dais. 

The refusal had led to a screaming match that could be heard in the next wing. The roars of his brother and father filled the halls with curses and anger. It only worsened when Minho refused to attend the festivities all together. King Bang had threatened to have him whipped, to which Minho had laughed maniacally and downed the rest of the fire whiskey he insisted on having on hand with his father. 

“Do it! I've learned well how to bear pain, Father,” Minho screamed in rage at the threat. 

Christopher wasn't certain on what lengths King Bang would have gone had he not stepped in with a sobbing Beauty Lee at his heels. He wasn't even certain on which had calmed the King; his intervention and promises to handle his wayward brother or the tears drenching Beauty Lee's silks. Either way, he had relented and Minho had avoided the whip. 

It was the beginning of a deadly dance. He would have to balance the both of them: his father's hot headed rages, and his brother’s own uncontrolled hatred. The price of losing would not be a simple sore foot. A wrong step could ripple across the floor and disrupt the entire performance; sending everyone toppling to their dooms. 

“That was the murderer?” Changbin asked from his side. The third prince had been too preoccupied with his food and the ladies milling about to pay much attention to the King's audiences. He had only taken note when the girl had fallen to her knees to prostrate herself in desperation.

“She's no murderer,” Christopher chided. 

“Did her family kill our sister or not, Chris?” Changbin countered with annoyance. Anger simmered just under the surface. Princess Mai was a sore topic even so many years later. 

“They did. She did not. She was just a kid when it happened.” They had all been young then. A child's blissful ignorance was no place for the blame of their parents’ faults. All of the Princes' should know that, but Christopher knew it most. 

“Mai was just a kid, too. An innocent, sweet, lively and damn charming kid. Had she lived, I would probably be in debt for sweets and dresses. I would have been a beggar proudly for our baby sister, yet you take up in defense for the blood of her murderer?”

“I miss Mai as much as you do, more even, but her murderer was executed. There's nothing else for us to do,” Christopher shot back. He was feeling his own anger rise. There were few things that he wouldn't do for his family, his siblings. Changing the past was not within his realm of capabilities. 

“Are you truly that much of a fool?” Changbin asked incredulously. His anger was still held tightly in check. 

“Is it foolishness to allow a person to pave their own path?” Christopher returned. He lacked the heat of his younger brother. He could never be mad at any of the boys who shared his blood. They were all young, still finding their way into manhood and rule with the black and white lens of good and evil. If only the world were so simply colored. 

“It's foolishness that could end in an early grave.”

It was not Changbin who answered. The voice was feminine, but hard. It was the voice of a woman who had seen too much, been forced to harden her edges at the behest of those in power around her. 

Queen Bang regarded her natural son and his brother with a stern stare. The panes of her face were sharp, severe even. Hers was a beauty that didn't often mesh with the other ladies of the palace. It was refined but not delicate; the type of face that would strike fear in a man's heart as much as lust. It had both Christopher and Changbin sealing their lips tight to stave off any protest that bubbled.

“This is not appropriate banquet conversation,” she stated with a final withering stare before turning her attention back to the audiences entertaining the King. He was deep in conversation with a Captain from the Free Isles about some strange sea beast that had been spotted. From the look of the table, he was also deep in his cups as he boasted about hunts from his youth of beasts of yore. 

Taking the reprieve, Christopher searched the room for Minho. He had promised he would at least be present, wandering the room discreetly so as not to raise gossip about the Second Prince being excluded from the dais. He was to have his first pick of any Lady that caught his eye, and he had only to choose one– one gentlelady to give his father the illusion that the wayward Prince had been subdued into court life.

Of course, Minho had to make even a simple task an effort in patience and persistence. 

However, Christopher could not have patience. It went against everything he knew and everything he was, but he had to act. There was no room for error, nor weakness in the Court of Miroh. 

At a look, the page was running towards him. He was well dressed in the colors of his Liege, the fabric glinting in the light like polished iron. With a well placed command and Changbin watching curiously, the boy took off with quick feet and vigor for a promised knighthood.

A future King had to be a man of action. 

Minho

The palace library was a place of wonder for any intrepid mind. It was filled with the works of great scholars and war strategists renowned for their taciturn. Works from all across the world, they told of histories, battles, and gentleman's philosophy. It was all knowledge that any young man should know, approved by the crown and kept up by an army of ever present eunuchs who dusted the shelves and kept the sight fit for royalty.

Tomes upon tomes of knowledge lined the high walls with ladders placed at intervals to reach the topmost shelves. The tops of the ladders ended in marbled ceilings that supported the second floor balcony. It was a wide open walkway lined with yet more books that opened up to show the floor below. 

Minho had spent a lot of his youth in the brightly lit rotunda. He studied with his appointed tutors, absorbing the knowledge a spare must have like a sponge desperate for hydration. Even when the old men would give him leave, he would stay. Day would turn to dusk as he poured over the words of wise men.

But Minho had learned what the library could teach him. When he had reached out for more, he had been denied. The Library eunuchs had told him that they held all the knowledge in the world in their shelves. His tutors had brushed off his queries with well mannered hands. His father had outright scoffed and berated him to work harder at his swordsmanship instead of wasting his time with yet more books.

Desperate for more, Minho had sought knowledge through travel.

His early years had seen him guesting the courts of Great and Lesser Lords, browsing their own shelves for things he had yet to learn. Each time, he was disappointed. Each time, he moved on with more vigor. It wasn't until his desperation took him to the city taverns, art houses, and lone monasteries in tall, reclusive mountains that he learned the greatest lesson of his life: through understanding of life could never be found until one experienced the people of the world itself. 

He had come to hate the palace library, disdaining the time he had wasted learning what was deemed appropriate for a Prince. It was unfortunate that it was an excellent place to find a quiet and unassuming corner with few ears that listened. It was even more deserted with the Selection happening. No Lords browsed the shelves, and few eunuchs were on duty. 

“How have you been, old friend?” Hwang Hyunjin asked as he slid into the seat next to Minho. They were cushioned and pushed into an empty corner, meant for spending hours reading. 

“Better,” Minho answered. The table between them held a silvered platter complete with three tumblers and a decanter of liquor. He poured them both a drink and took a healthy swallow of his own. 

“Does the idea of Miroh court life distress you so much?” 

“As much as having my manhood chopped off,” he answered wryly.

“I'm sure our glorious King would love to have that arranged if you don't fall in line,” Jackson Wang joked as he took a third seat. He squeezed in next to Hyunjin, the table separating the Prince from his guests. 

“Yes. He would,” Minho agreed grimly. Another sip of the liquor had fire burning in his throat. He poured some for the new arrival in the empty glass. 

“It needs not be that way,” Hyunjin stated. “It's as simple as doing what he asks.”

“I will not, and I'm surprised you would even suggest such.” 

Minho had spent time with almost all the Lords of Miroh. He had supped in their dining halls, listened in on their councils, advocated for reform favoring the small folk with what attention he curried. He was familiar with them all, but none more so than Lords Wang and Hwang. They were as close to him as his own brothers. They knew his views and he knew theirs. 

“We have discussed this before. If you want to seek change, you have to be in a position to do so,” Jackson said. He picked up his tumbler and sniffed the liquid indulgently before taking a healthy swallow. 

“And it shall not be by so blatantly ignoring your father's wishes,” Hyunjin added. His own glass remained untouched. 

“You wish me to abandon everything I believe and play the part?” Minho was annoyed, but not surprised. This was a normal point of contention in the trio. 

“Jackson controls the Southern Border. I have dominion over most of the Midland Plains. We have influence, but with a Prince advocating to our ends, we could scarcely be denied”, Hyunjin said, passion deepening with every word. It was the same old conversation, but never had he pushed so blatantly. Minho's return to Court seemed to heighten his resolve. 

“We could not risk altering the realm within a fortnight. We have to play the long Game. Even revealing our cards too soon could lose us royal favor, and power. Your father is not so inclined to a liberal nature,” Jackson added. He had abandoned his seat all together, glass of liquor in hand.

“The long game is waiting until Christopher is crow–”

“Your brother is a strong and moral Prince, but he is a traditionalist. Even in him, you will not find the ally you think,” Hyunjin cut off Minho's protest. 

“If you are suggesting we overthrow my brother, you won't have to deal with my father. I'll have your head of my own accord,” Minho spat, sudden anger getting the best of him. His brother's all had their faults, but he would forever be loyal to them. 

“We would never suggest such a thing, but he will need the right people around him when he ascends. The current Council, baring myself and Lord Wang, are all bootlicking yes-men with traditionalist loyalties. They would see the same wars and the same laws in place for eternity,” Hyunjin countered. 

“Ah, the Late Lord Jeon’s writ on the rights of a nobleman. What a crock of shit,” Jackson hummed as he browsed the shelves. He was sipping his liquor as Minho and Hyunjin spoke, browsing through the tomes on the shelves next to their group as he did. Even though he didn't seem too invested, Minho knew it would be unwise to think so. 

The Wang were an old name and had ancestral rights to the Southern Border. Across that border, was an endless stretch of desert ruled by a King shunned and forgotten by all except the Wang’s. It was said the family's outlandish politics were an extension of that King's will, and the Wang's did not hide it. If anything, they flaunted it and were the only Great House to push for liberal reform– at least with any visibility. 

“He needs you to be his right hand, but the other Lords would never accept you as you are now,” Hyunjin advised, ignoring his friend's outburst. 

“What our ever so serious Hyunjin is suggesting is a mummers’ farce. Do your father's bidding where the world can see, while playing your hand behind the scenes,” Jackson said, still making the odd disproving noise as he browsed the books written by less inclined individuals. “It's not ideal, but it's become necessity.”

Minho did not like anything that was being said. 

He had spent his whole life concentrating on the belief that rule and power could never end without corruption. It didn't matter how just and moral you were, the reigns of an entire people would callous and blacken your beliefs until your life revolved around cowing populations into submission with the threat of a sword. That was simply how human nature worked. 

His beliefs had not come without cause.

The Red Rebellions had torn the realm asunder. It had been all in the name of ridding themselves of a tyrant King Kim. When the Bang's had won, the Kingdom entered a golden age. Arts and philosophy flourished and laws changed to usher in a new world for the people of the time, but history had proven to be cyclic. Even being his own family, Minho could not deny that the reign of the Bang family was heading in the direction of the Kim’s. 

His only consolation had been Christopher. He was a just and upright man, but he had been raised to rule under the constant traditionally forged sword of their father. He had never seen the world outside of the Capital, and likely never would.

He would never see the villages in the dense Jungles of the West. The deeper you went into the verdant green, the more sparse populations got until civilization gave way to angry wildness that had retaken abandoned towns; their peoples forever lost to disease. Many still living remained under constant quarantine, never able to leave their homes for fear of spreading illness and death by the swords of those who held them there. They would not be helped. They would die and be forgotten like the others. 

He would never know the desperation of the poachers in the Anpanman Woods. They were injured soldiers who had served the realm only to be discarded when they were no longer of use. They were green boys who were forced to support their families. They were the downtrodden no one cared for until they stepped on the toes of a Lord. 

He would never see the sorrow of the wives of the Eastern Coast. Their husbands left them with babes still at the breast to mine gold in the crown controlled Free Isles. For the cost of the Crown's coffers, a lot of them would perish at sea or in the mines. They would never see their children grow. 

Christopher would have to connect with his people. He would have to live amongst them to remember that it was not a Nation he ruled, but living humans with lives and stories of their own. Forgetting that was often the fall of a good King. He could not forget. Minho would not let him. 

“Give me a script and dress me in motley, damnit.”

[erinawritesheadcanons2]

How would starscream,knockout, and sounwave dealing with a yandere female decepticon follow them around and stalking them

~☠ Starscream, Knockout, and Soundwave with a Yandere S/O Who Likes To Stalking and Following Them Around ☠~

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A/N: Hello there Anon! Thank you for the request, gosh. This one is quite difficult but I will try my best to write it down please don't be a Yandere in a real life because it's very harmful to your S/O, friends, family, or your partner. Also, I want to make this post gender friendly to every gender people out there so I hope you do not mind if I don't write just female S/O.

Warning: Yandere Tendencies, profanities and violence.

Gender: Neutral

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Starscream - Decepticon

I'm very sorry to sound a bit Ironic but Starscream find it a little bit creepy that you are following him around and looking up his biography despite he does stalk Autobots when he got kicked out by Megatron.

He does find it hot if you had to kill someone to protect him or when you are getting jealous. Especially if you get all Yandere on Airachnid because he despise that spider girl a lot.

Sometimes would ask you to stop being creepy like "Ughhh, could you just stop following me around or stalking me? I'm busy," while working on his data.

Starscreams does know that you are willing to do anything so he would use your killing service so if someone are on your way. He would sweetly say "My dear (Y/N). Would you be kind enough to kill someone for me?" with a golden plate smile.

Starscream also adores that you would be willing enough to be sweet and caring to him. He would also use that side of you if he's injured as he told you who hurt him.

As you kill those who hurt him. He would just gonna watch you from far with a smirk on his face as if he just watch an action or thriller movie.

He does get annoyed that you had just stand there shyly instead of trying to talk to him. He does genuinely wants to talk with you so you don't need to follow him around because he's genuinely an EXTROVERT.

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Behind the automatic door, a certain bots with (Paint job Colour/Skin Colour) standing there and watching her/his/their crush. (Y/N) pulse quickens with every glance she/he/they steal, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. And you can't help but imagine what it would be like to step out from your hiding spot and finally engage in a conversation with Starscream.

The decepticon indeed hear the sound of small clicks that (Y/N) made but not stepping inside of the hallway. The poor bot just standing there behind the door, staring at him from far away instead of trying to talk to him. Even he realizes that (Y/N) would follow him secretly from far. Afterall, he's not deaf, he has a great hearings.

A flicker of impatience dancing across his features. He's well aware of (Y/N)'s presence, the way (Y/N) always seem to be around when he's nearby. While Starscream finds it intriguing that (Y/N) is interested in him, he's growing frustrated by their shyness that renders them utterly speechless in his presence. He wants to engage in a conversation, to hear their/her/his voice, to understand what's behind those bashful optics.

Starscream mutters under his breath, a mix of exasperation and determination in his tone. "If only (Y/N) could muster the courage to speak to me," he grumbles quietly to himself. He paces a few steps, optics narrowing in thought. Then, a spark of inspiration lights up his scheming mind. An almost mischievous grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he hatches a plan. Starscream's crimson gaze fixates on (Y/N)'s hiding spot behind the automatic door.

Starscream's voice takes on a dramatic tone, laden with a hint of desperation. "Oh, if only there were someone out there who had the intellect and willingness to assist me with this data. It need to be given by Lord Megatron today," he sighs. Little does he know, you had been listening all along.

With a quiet exhale, you step out from your hiding spot as you feel your body shakin. Not hearing Starscream whispers to himself 'works like a charm'. (Y/N)'s shy demeanor still evident, yet there's some determination in her/his/their voice. "I... I might be able to help you with that data," they/she/he venture, voice timid but earnest.

Starscream's optics narrow, studying them for a moment before a smug smile tugs at his lips. It seems his subtle ploy has worked, coaxing (Y/N) out of hiding. Starscream's commanding presence asserts itself as he raises a hand, gesturing for (Y/N) to come closer. His optics lock onto theirs, a mix of authority and curiosity in his gaze. "Come here, my dear. Would you be willing to lend your expertise and take the reins on this data?"

(Y/N) was a little bit hesitant but nod in response to his question. "Yes, Starscream, I can certainly give it a try," you agreed. You can't help but feel a secret thrill at the endearment he uses, the word "dear" echoing in your mind, even if it was just a casual part of his speech.

A subtle smirk curls at the corner of Starscream's lips as he observes Y/N's response. While his outer demeanor remains composed, inwardly he's pleased to see them stepping up to the task. While he appreciates Y/N's assistance, a darker thought forms within him. He ponders whether they might be willing to go even further to ensure his success by killing Airachnid.

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Knockout - Decepticon

Another Ironic character who is low-key scared of Yandere S/O which is Knokout but also low-key finds it hot that you are willing to kill anyone who tries to steal him away from you.

He is also kind of scared that if you are willing to hurt him just because he made you upset so he would try to give you many energon cubes to calm you down if he ever made you upset with his words.

Just like a star scream. He does use your killing service if someone or the Autobot made him upset by scratching his paint job. Or those insecticons scratch his paint job.

He does like it when you are being attentive and sweet around him because he knows that you are willing to help him fix his paint job or help him around with his labs.

Unlike Starscream, he does not mind when you are being shy around him but he just that you just don't hide and follow him even though he's aware you are there. he prefers if you are there and watch him instead of hiding because he does feel it's a bit creepy.

Just like Starscream, he wishes that at least instead of hiding and following you anywhere. You had the guts to talk to him but he won't force you like Starscream does so he would wait for you.

Sometimes would tease you when he is aware that you are following as he pretends that he doesn't notice you "Why, my dear. Why does it feel like the temperature of the room getting hotter? Is there someone in here~" as he knows you are there.

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Knockout usually a pristine finish had been his pride and joy, a reflection of his meticulous self-care. But today after what happened to him when there were the Autobots. There were many Scratches on his paint job. His vents puff with annoyance as he was sitting in his clinical room and buffing his paint job. "Those damn Autobots, they are ruining my perfect paint job."

"Primus-darned scraplets, can't trust anyone around here," he grumbles, his voice dripping with exasperation. His vents hiss angrily. He could still remember when he saw his reflection in the train's mirror. Scratches were everywhere as he screams in misery. Realizing he looks horrible.

What Knockout did not realize that someone has been listening to him ranting about the Autobots had ruined his looks. Hidden behind the automatic door, (Y/N) listens with a mixture of surprise and amusement as Knockout's colourful curses fill the air. You can't help but stifle a small chuckle at his reaction.

(Y/N) curiosity piqued, she/he/they peer through a small gap, watching as Knockout meticulously buffs his paint job. "Perhaps it's time I have a proper conversation with Arcee and Bumblebee," (Y/N) muses quietly to themselves. They take a step back, leaving their hiding spot behind the automatic door and considering how to approach the situation.

As (Y/N) strutted along the hallway and travelled into the main hall of the Nemesis. (Y/N) cross the threshold, feeling the familiar sensation of being pulled through space and time. The world shifts around them, and suddenly, they find themselves standing in the vast expanse of the Nevada desert. The sun casts a warm golden glow over the arid landscape.

(Y/N) seamlessly shifts into their alternate form, a sleek and powerful Jet. Her/his/their mechanical whirring and shifting of parts blend harmoniously as they complete their transformation. The wind rushes past them as they soar over dunes and navigate rocky outcrops, their sensors scanning for any signs of the Autobots, especially Bumblebee or Arcee.

(Y/N) internal systems emit a soft beeping sound. Their onboard GPS system flashes to two familiar signals, projecting a holographic interface in front of her/him/them. A bright red dot blinks on the display, indicating the location of Arcee and Bumblebee. The signal is strong and clear, guiding them towards their destination.

(Y/N) accelerates even further, the engines humming with a loud roar as you have gotten faster than before. The red dot on the display draws closer with each passing moment, fueling their anticipation to finally meet those two Autobots that made Knockout whine for the whole day after his mission.

Arcee's sleek motorcycle form and Bumblebee's compact car form come into view. With a rush of emotions, (Y/N) readies themselves/herself/himself for the moment by shifting their/her/his jet form into your real form. Seeing you, Arcee and BUmblebee were quite surprised as they immediately transform to face you. "Good job you two, for causing Knockout to whine the whole day. And here's the prize for you~" (Y/N) chirps as their/her/his servo shifted into her gun.

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Soundwave - Decepticon

Unlike Starscream and Knockout. He is not as manipulative and toxic as them when he uses their Yandere S/O. He does not like using other bots service and he is independent.

He doesn't really find it creepy either when he found out that you follow him secretly. After all, he could see everything through the security camera of the Nemesis.

Soundwave do find it a bit confusing when he found out about it. He did not say it out loud or show it through his visor. But he could sense that you are there and staring at him while he is working.

Don't touch him though because if you catch the scene of him versus Airachnid. We know he always has his guards one hundred per cent up

He does find it cute each time he goes into his berth room. He found an energon cube that you brought for him as if you remind him to rest and eat well.

Also finds it cute that you are shy around him although he does not admit it since we know he cannot talk and has a visor on his face. Although it is going to be awkward if you try to talk to him because we know he does not speak and only speaks using voice recording.

Unlike Starscream and Knockout again. If you try to kill anyone except Autobot. He would stop you and reprimand you with the voice recording as he held you with his tendrils

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In the dimly lit nemesis main hallway of the ship, the soft glow of holographic displays illuminates his form. His tall and stoic frame engrossed in his work. His mechanical digits dance deftly over the keypad, producing a rhythmic symphony of clicks and soft hums as he types down lines of code and inputs data with precision.

The monitors display intricate diagrams, encrypted transmissions, and complex algorithms. Soundwave-hidden optics underneath his visor remains focused on the screen, his expressions hidden behind his emotionless visage. The complex symphony of keystrokes under Soundwave's adept fingers is in service of a directive issued by none other than Lord Megatron himself.

The data itself was about the whereabouts of Energon on the earth and picking on the signals through the screen. Not wanting to anger the lord of the Decepticon, he had to be focused on every signal and careful with picking them or Megatron is going to be really angry. At least, among Decepticons that he is the only one who is capable of everything.

In the shadows, (Y/N) remains concealed in the darkness through her/his/their hiding spot. A pang of sympathy and concern tugs at your core. The relentless rhythm of his work is evident, and it's clear that he has been engrossed in his duties for an extended period without any break.

As the silence lingers, (Y/N)'s thoughts turn to whether there might be a way to help Soundwave to ease his burden. (Y/N)'s mind begins to formulate a plan. They realize that even the most dedicated Decepticon needs moments of rest. You decided by showing him support in a small but meaningful way.

The (Paint job colour) Decepticons slip away from the hall of the Nemesis ship. Strutting along the hallway and going down with the lift, going down into the energon storage room where there are millions of them. It cannot be wrong if you just take one of them, no one is going to notice, right? Taking one of them in your room, you began to leave the storage room and came back to the second floor of the Nemesis ship.

(Y/N) slips away and makes their way to his quarters. The cube in their servo, they enter the room with a quiet reverence, not wanting to disturb the vehicons or anyone. (Y/N) also did not want to alarm Soundwave either. Placing the Energon cube on a nearby surface, (Y/N) leaves it as a silent reminder, an unspoken encouragement for Soundwave to take a moment and replenish his energy.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

Despite standing tall and his chest still puffs up while coming back to his berthroom. His frame exudes a quiet weariness, a testament to the hours he has spent immersed in his duties. The dim lighting casts elongated shadows as Soundwave rises from his workstation, coming back to his room after a long time of working to fix some errors in the computer room.

The door opens and closes with a faint hiss, shutting Soundwave away from the outside world once he enters his room. He turns his head slightly. A momentary pause occurs as he spots something out of place, an energon cube resting on the table nearby. The sight tugs at a corner of his processor, a subtle shift in his usually impassive expression.

Soundwave's sensors analyze the cube for a fraction of a second, his optic lingering on it before he moves to retrieve it. He doesn't show any overt signs of emotion, yet his internal circuits hum with a sense of gratitude. His fingers wrap around the cube, his servos almost reverent as he lifts it. With precision, Soundwave uncaps the cube and takes a sip, the Energon replenishing his systems.

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[featguler]

wound up with a purpose ────── you are comparing hand sizes.

♡ ────── pairing : vinícius júnior x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified, but they are described to be smaller than vini. reader is friends w/ aurel. ♡ ────── wordcount : 723 ♡ ────── notes : this is so short but it's so cute and i love him and i cannot stop thinking about vinicius jose paixao de oliveira junior. title is from beabadoobee's ever seen!!! it's such a cute song awoooorghhh,, ♡ masterlist.

“I’ll get Eduardo here,” your idle threat draws a laugh out of Vinícius’ mouth as he insists on hooking his pinky finger into your ring finger, “He’ll have you kicked out of this party.”

“Yeah?” Vinícius entertains the thought and shrugs, his lips tugging into a short smirk. “I don’t know, you seem like you’re enjoying my company more than anything else.”

The gathering Eduardo is exclusive—”exclusive” here being used very generously, as it is bigger than any garden party you have ever been to, and filled with people with bigger names than your family combined.

Sitting on some stools against some bushes, you drown the sound of conversations and water fountains out.

You are a friend of a friend of Eduardo’s—Aurélien’s to be exact. He brought you as his plus one with the exact intention of playing cupid and setting you up with one of his teammates. Eduardo had met you a few times before, so he was like, sure, and you spent the entire afternoon fretting over which shoes to pair with which jacket.

And, dear lord and Aurélien’s compulsive knacks of unwarranted party invitations, you don’t know who this teammate he was boasting on and on about.

But right now, you are hoping that it is Vinícius.

Rising star of Real Madrid, they would say. You just never expected that he would be this romantic.

“Come on,” he tries again, chuckling and spreading his palm close to your fist. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little comparison, hm?”

On the first meeting no less.

“Please,” you roll your eyes, giving in slightly when he uses his thumb to rub against the base of your palm instead, “Did I tell you I used to play basketball in school?”

He is wearing a nice, soft pink shirt against a pair of brown pants, some rings on his fingers and one on each of his earlobes.

“Yeah?” He grins. “You must have long fingers, then. And bigger palms.”

“Now you’re just making fun of me,” you purse your lips to hide a smile, finally opening your palm to see his eyebrows raise in delight, wasting no time in pressing his hand over yours.

And, sure, yeah: it makes sense that Vinícius Jr’s hand is larger than yours. It makes sense that your fingers are shorter than his, that your heartbeats increase the moment you touch, and that he closes his fingers on the space inbetween yours, engulfing your hand in his fist.

“Mon deu,” you giggle at the accent in his French, trying to catch your missing breath. He swings your hand, as though he is testing a new glove. “You’re tiny aren’t you?”

“Tiny?” You repeat with fake offence, the feeling of novel heat rising in your chest as you cross your legs. You close your fist over his. “I am the perfect size. Not my fault you have gigantic hands.”

“Oh, please. Enough with the compliments.”

“That was a compliment?”

“That wasn’t?”

You two burst into another fit of laughter, his fingers digging into the back of your hand as you use the other to cover your mouth.

Vinícius inches towards you like you don’t notice, and you peek at the expression on his face.

“Oh, this is nice,” he says, slowly this time, and swings your hands again. “I take it back—you’re right. You’re the perfect size.”

You blow a scoff, trying to hide the baffled on your face. You open your fingers and he is compelled to do the same—now your palms are back facing each other again.

“Is that so?” You stare into his eyes before looking away.

Vinícius raises a curious eyebrow.

“Look,” he gently closes his palm. “My fingers fit so nicely between yours.”

“Oh,” you pull away, shyly pushing his hand away. “Stop it.”

He laughs. “Can’t deny it though, can you?”

“Oh, come on.” You whine, pressing your hand against your eyebrows, trying to blow the steam away from your cheeks. You have to remind yourself, for a moment, that he’s probably done this to countless other people before.

“I’m kidding,” he chuckles, shaking his head, using his foot to faintly nudge your shoes.

You glance his way, pursing your lips again, hiding a smile again.

“Right,” you bite your lips, clearing your throat, and Vinícius shoots you a charming smile. “Right.”

[abandonedbun]

Maybe Andrew and Norton with g/n (if possible) Reader who feels very little pain? (Example: They get struck by a hunter, but they keep running until at the end of the match they are like "bro you are bleeding")

Of course! ^w^

Also just a little note:Gender neutral is always possible! Bun will default the reader’s gender to neutral if the gender isn’t specified! So everyone of any gender can read it! :3

Andrew Kreiss

Oh lord

He was worried before but knowing you have a high pain tolerance…

At first he was alright with it, you don’t feel much pain so he was happy you didn’t feel much of it

BUT WHEN YOU ARE BLEEDING DURING A MATCH-

He gets so so worried because those injuries are not slight bruises

You are literally bleeding please patch yourself up so he doesn’t faint from shock

Yeah you’re a good kiter due to your higher pain tolerance BUT CMON

One time Andrew was waiting for you at the gate, he was relieved to see the hunter wasn’t near (they changed targets due to being pissed off)

Then he saw you bleeding

It sorta went like this

“S/O, you’re back. Let’s get back to the manor- OH DEAR LORD-”

S/O who’s literally bleeding out from their head: “Andrew? What’s wrong?”

Andrew: “DEAR YOU ARE BLEEDING OH GOD”

S/O: “Oh don’t worry it’s fine, doesn’t even hurt!”

Andrew: “YOU’RE STILL BLEEDING”-

Now he makes sure you’re always 100% patched up

Please let him take care of you, he’s gonna cry soon if he sees you bleeding too much

He really cares okay?? :(

After matches he always rests with you and makes sure you aren’t hurt

He doesn’t care if you aren’t feeling the pain, he’s taking care of all your injuries

Norton Campbell

He is emotionally attached to you

He really cares for you! He absolutely loves you

At first he was proud you had a high pain tolerance, he thinks you’re so strong!

But he gets worried when it comes to hunters because they don’t take mercy on survivors unless they’re going friendly (which is rarely)

Sure you can kite for longer, which is great but you’re still getting hurt

The hunter usually changes targets because they aren’t wasting their time chasing you because you don’t go down easily

Now for Norton’s scenario

S/O: “Norton!! I’m back!”

Norton saw you while he was waiting at the gate, he calmed down seeing you safe

Norton: “Good, you’re here, now let’s get going- wait. S/O.”

S/O: “Yeah? :)”

Norton: “Are you bleeding right now? Ō-Ō”

S/O: “Oh yeah but it’s fine! I can barely feel a thing!”

Norton: “… Nope”

S/O: “What do you mea- Norton put me down!”

Norton: “Nope. Too injured, you’re getting carried now”

S/O: “But I can walk on my own!”

Norton: “Nahh you’re getting carried”

He’ll literally just pick you up if he sees you as too injured

He’s like 184 cm tall so goodluck struggling free from him unless you’re close to his height, as tall as him, or somehow taller

He just carries you to Emily and says “Please patch them up, they don’t know how to do it”

S/O: “Yes I do!”

Norton: “Didn’t see you do it, so you don’t”

He seems chill but he’s panicking inside

Please just get patched up. Just do it

[not-to-me]

Just Enjoying the View (DW One-Shot)

(Gif is mine)

Fourth Doctor x AFAB!reader | 18+ NO MINORS | I take requests! Actually, I beg for them!

Summary: The Doctor sees you as you’re picking out clothes after a shower.

Warnings: smut, slightly dubious consent at the very beginning (the Doctor being brash), AFAB reader, but only gender indicators referring to genitalia and breasts (wrote this for me and I’m trans masc), my likely lousy attempt at dirty talk, unprotected sex, not the softest not the roughest, slight degradation at one point, I’m not a native speaker either.

———

The hot water that cascaded down your body slowed to a stop as you turned off the shower. Walking over to your towel, folded and placed neatly on the counter, you started drying yourself off. You sighed as you became satisfied with your level of dryness, and wrapped the towel around your body.

You exited the steamy bathroom and headed into your room. Now, to find some clothes, you thought. Crossing your room, you headed for your wardrobe, a little walk-in closet. You stood there, sifting through the fabric of your options as you thought about what you wanted to wear. Maybe something that would make the Doctor look at you for an extra second or two… you smiled mischievously at the thought. You fancied him, it was true, but you also knew he was either too uninterested, too daft or too caught up in his own world to notice it. Still, one can try.

You pulled out a cute dress from the rack, one that you always felt sexy in, but then something else caught your eye as well, so you pulled a sleek suit out too and walked over to the mirror to try and see which you’d like most today. You looked at your reflection in the mirror as you held the dress up to your body, then the suit, then switched them back again, musing to yourself. Indecisive, you sighed and closed your eyes momentarily. When you opened them again, however, you made eye contact with a pair of intense blue eyes in the mirror.

The Doctor.

The Doctor was standing behind you, in the doorway. You froze, unsure of what to say as embarrassment flooded your mind at the same speed as thoughts of how long he’d been standing there did. You hadn’t noticed him when you left the bathroom. You opened your mouth to speak as you felt a few seconds of silence too many had passed, but he interrupted you.

“Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view!” he said, his signature unreadable grin present on his face. He was leaning on the doorframe, hands tucked into his pockets, looking like the epitome of casual. You? Not so much, as you were debating whether to hide away in your bed or chase the tall Time Lord out.

“Doctor… you cant just— why were you just standing there?!” You stuttered out your inquiry, your voice a slightly higher pitch than usual as you turned around to face him. You dropped the hangers with clothes you were holding in favour of clutching your towel tightly and securely to your body.

“Well, my dear, you seemed like you were quite focused on your… choice of attire,” His eyes swept over your body— or were you seeing things— before he continued, “And I thought I’d let you decide, rather than interrupt…” Something told you that was only half the truth as his eyes lingered on your exposed thighs.

“I— I am in a towel!” You exclaimed indignantly, gesturing to your current ‘outfit,’ though you couldn’t help but wonder what those darkening eyes truly meant.

“Yes, I see that…” the Doctor said lowly, beginning to approach slowly, watching for any sign that would tell him to back off, “Do you want to know what I’ve also seen, my dear?”

Your eyes widened at his ominous words. You didn’t know if you truly wanted to know, but you found yourself nodding meekly all the same. The Doctor’s grin grew wider as he closed in on you, and in a move that made your eyes even bigger for an entirely different reason, he reached up and brushed his knuckles against your cheek, caressing you tenderly. Then, his hand moved so the tips of his fingers rested at your temple, not unlike the few times he had helped you sleep using those psychic powers of his. And with that thought, you began connecting the dots. Your face had never been this hot. Yet… some these connections you were making did allude to the idea that the Doctor also wanted you. The very thought made your breath hitch.

“Ah, yes! I probably should have mentioned I’d be able to see some of those little thoughts of yours, before I helped you sleep.” His voice was deepened at the end of his sentence as he gazed at you with a fond expression, his grin having been softened by watching your cute face as you made your realisations.

“Now… the question is,” He trailed his hand down your face, caressing you, and parted your lips with his thumb, “Will you let me reciprocate those desires?”

Your heart was hammering away in your chest, not from fear, but from excitement. Your shaky breath fanned over the Doctor’s thumb when you answered him with a quiet, “Yes.”

The return of his grin was the only warning you got before his hand traversed further down, grabbing your towel and loosening it, taking advantage of your lowered guard, before letting it fall to the floor.

“Doctor!” you exclaimed as you tried to cover yourself, “Haven’t you ever heard of taking things slow?!”

“Hmm, I think not… We’ll have to try it some day!” he said, a teasing tone painting his words as he looked at you like he wanted to take you right then and there. And to be fair, he did. He quickly closed what little distance there was left between you two, grabbing your chin between a finger and a thumb to tilt your head up just enough for him to kiss you.

You felt a surge of desire in your core at his controlling actions, letting yourself melt into the kiss after a quiet, surprised sound. As he moved his slightly chapped lips against yours, his hands both landed on your body, feeling your warm skin under them. Once again, he couldn’t make himself take things slowly, so he deepened the kiss almost immediately, making you gasp by squeezing the soft flesh of your ass. His tongue explored your mouth, and you whined into the kiss, your hands having come up to grip the lapels of his coat. Despite his apparent dominance, you got the feeling he might’ve been out of practice, although he quickly relearned his old tricks.

He began to slowly walk you backwards, toward your twin sized bed. Once the back of your knees hit the mattress, he surprised you by roughly pushing you down, making you fall onto the soft bed. You gasped as you bounced slightly. The Doctor began swiftly taking off his scarf and coat, but made no further move to undress before advancing on you, settling his weight on top of you. He briefly resumed the kiss as he spread your legs with his and found his place between them. Then, he kissed his way down your throat and collarbones, nipping at your skin, until his mouth arrived at the softness of your tits. One big hand came up to squeeze one while his mouth descended on the other, rolling your nipple on his tongue. This turned out to be a good distraction, as he surprised you by running the fingers of his other hand through your wet folds. He groaned.

“Already wet? My, my, have you been neglected?” He mused, mostly to himself, as he continued to mouth at your breasts, leaving hickeys and bites. You only managed to whine in response as he delved a thick finger into your tight hole, working you open. He soon curled his finger, hitting that one special spot, and making you gasp and buck your hips. He started to hone in on that specific spot and all but abused it, wrenching cries and moans from your lips.

Another incarnation of the Doctor would’ve probably taken it one step further and gone down on you, but right then and there, the Doctor knew that he was much too impatient to do so. He would save that for when he wasn’t so ridiculously pent up. So with that thought, he added another finger, stretching you wider yet. His cock twitched in anticipation of your tightness.

The stretch tingled pleasurably and you spread your legs further as he pounded your heat with his fingers. Just when you thought his mere hand couldn’t make you feel any better, his thumb dropped down on your clit. Your hips twitched as you arched your back involuntarily and moaned. You breathing was starting to go quicker and quicker, more irregular, and the Doctor knew you were close to coming from just his hand alone. He grinned and stopped his movements, withdrawing his hand, and leaning back.

You whined at the loss and prepared to make a fuss, but when you opened your eyes, you saw that he had already freed his cock from his pants, which shut you up immediately. He stroked his dick intently as he looked at your wet and swollen cunt.

“Do you want this?” he asked in a low voice, before looking up at your eyes with his own, intense ones. For some reason, his question sent waves of heat throughout your body. Almost as if it solidified the fact that this was happening. So you happily nodded your head.

“Yes! Yes please, Doctor. Please fuck me.” And with that you leant up on your elbows to catch his lips in a chaste, but passionate kiss. He kissed you back, but soon took one of your tits in hand and squeezed, before pushing you down onto the bed once more. You gasped as you felt his cockhead at your entrance before the Doctor began teasing you by thrusting through your wet folds. He groaned at the feeling, but you whined and threw your head back against the pillow, craving more. He chuckled at your impatience. If he was any less impatient himself, he might have teased you further, but he needed to feel your walls around him soon.

Suddenly and without warning, he thrust inside you, giving you little time to get used to his considerable size. You practically cried out at the intrusion, though you quickly welcomed it with a moan. You were thankful he’d taken the time to prepare you, even just a little bit.

He drew in a sharp breath, and couldn’t help but buck his hips, sinking all the way inside your welcoming warmth.

“Ah, fuck… better than I imagined,” he said, pleasure tinting his voice. You could only clench tighter around him as you registered just what his words implied.

“And I can imagine quite a bit, my dear,” he said with a grin.

“Are you thinking about it? Me getting off to your image…” He chuckled breathlessly, then continued, “No, of course you aren’t. Fucked you dumb already, haven’t I?” He punctuated with a harsher thrust than the previous ones, making you squeal as you dug your nails into his back. You proved him right by only moaning and nodding weakly in response to his mostly rhetorical question.

Your moans and whimpers picked up in time with the rhythm of his hips. His thrusts had started out slow and deep, letting you really feel it every time he bottomed out, but then he started growing impatient with his pace.

His hips picked up speed, and soon he was hammering his cock into you, fucking you fast with no mercy. He grunted with the effort, his hands running over your body heavily. You were in ecstasy. You gripped his brown curls, needing something to hold onto during this onslaught.

“Doct—ah!” you moaned his name, not knowing many other words at this point. His name was followed by a series of whines and sobs, making him almost chuckle.

“Ohh… Is it too much? I know it’s a lot, I know,” He said to you in a condescending tone. Instead of giving you a chance to breathe, his hand slid down to your core and he began pleasuring your clit.

“Just keep taking it.”

You were overwhelmed with pleasure. Tears rolled down your cheeks, but still you pleaded with him for more. More of his cock inside you, more stimulation on your clit, more of his voice. You needed him and he provided.

The Doctor’s usually fluffy curls were damp with sweat, but they still bounced in tact with his hip movements. He looked so debauched, even still practically fully dressed. As you looked up at him with a fucked out expression, he admired your features. Your glazed over eyes and your moans and gasps. And your body, that he had dreamt of being underneath his, now tensing up.

You could feel your peak approaching fast. Your hand, still rooted in his hair, tightened its grip in anticipation of your coming high. The Doctor growled in response, quickly snatching your wrist and pinning it over your head, and your other wrist soon followed. He didn’t miss the extra pathetic yelp that escaped you, and his ministrations only increased in their roughness.

“I can tell you’re close… Do you want to cum for me? Yeah?” He asked his hips stuttering, alluding to his own impending high. You could only nod and gabble incoherent words. And had the Doctor been a more patient person, he might have made you wait til you could reply coherently, just for his own personal enjoyment. But his fourth incarnation was impatient more often than not, playing to your favour as you shook with pleasure.

“Cum for me… there you go. Fuck…” He squeezed your wrists tight for a second before letting them go, indicating you were to keep them where they were. You gripped the headboard as it all became too much and your climax washed over you, rendering you completely helpless against the searing ecstasy. Your scream could probably be heard throughout most of the vast TARDIS.

Before you could even begin to think properly, you felt the Doctor’s cock twitch inside your clenching cunt. He groaned as he spilled into your wet heat, and his hips rutted into you shallowly. You happily milked him of his seed. He dipped his head down to kiss your neck before burying his face, riding out his high. Eventually, he stilled his movements with a sigh.

After a few seconds of panting between the two of you, you let your arms fall around him, petting his hair and embracing him. He seemed to like that, nuzzling further into your neck. His weight on top of you was comforting nod you smiled dazedly to yourself. Then the Doctor popped up his head, looking at you with half lidded eyes.

“I bet you’ll need another shower now… and before you ask, yes, I would like to join you.” He grinned that signature grin. You only chuckled at him, but then you agreed nonetheless.

You wouldn’t mind some more intimacy with your Doctor.

[icybluepenguin]

Lights in the Dark

Author's Note: I haven't written anything in a long time. I didn't realize how much I'd missed it. I'm going to try to do it more! First time writing for Baldur's Gate, this is for the BG3 Winter Holiday Challenge, based on the "twinkling lights" prompt.

Summary: Astarion doesn't like the guy you're dancing with (and neither do you) so he whisks you away to show you something special instead. On AO3 here

Pairing: Astarion x gender neutral Tav/reader

Tags/Warnings: a bit of jealous Astarion, more than a bit of fluff, SFW/rated T, word count 1,300. Canon-typical talk about stabbing. Probably not accurate title usage :)

-

The dance was fast, a newer one that you weren't as familiar with.  It involved the leader holding the other's waist with one hand as the pair rotated and traveled the steps, and it gave more opportunity than you liked for someone's hand to drift too far down. 

Which is exactly what you felt Lord Brandir Antalme attempting as he spun you around the dance floor. You cleared your throat loudly, tightening your grip on his shoulder until he winced and returned his hand to the proper position for the dance. 

As soon as the music stopped, you rushed through your bows, waving off his attempts to coax you into another dance.  One near-groping from a boring lord was enough, thank you.  But this was a fancy party and you weren't going to make a scene and cause trouble for Wyll.  Yet. 

Brandir followed you away from the dancing, taking two goblets of wine from a server's tray.  You took the one he offered you– why not, you were going to need something to take the edge off his company if he was going to stick to you.   The man would not stop talking about building contracts.  You raised it to your lips. 

A pale hand, wrist practically dripping with lace, snagged the goblet from you before you could even take a sip, 

“There you are, darling.” Astarion took a taste of your wine.  “I lost track of you.”  His tone was light, but his eyes were hard, staring at Brandir. 

Someone had to have manners in this situation and it clearly wasn't going to be Astarion.  “Astarion, this is Lord Brandir Antalme.  Brandir, Astarion Acunin.”   

“Ah, Saer Acunin!” Brandir gushed with courtly enthusiasm.  “Your reputation precedes you.”

“Don't believe everything you hear,” Astarion said.  His voice lowered dangerously, even as his smile remained polite.  “I'm much worse.”

Brandir giggled, his eyes widening, and turned his attention back to you– the apparently safe choice.  While your outfit had a high collar, as did Astarion's, to cover both of your bite marks, it still showed a good amount of skin elsewhere.  Which Brandir was enjoying without much subtlety. 

“You were an excellent partner, my dear.  Perhaps another dance,” he glanced at Astarion holding your cup, “since you are finished with your drink?”  Brandir gave a half bow and held out his hand to you. 

“That was a dance?” Astarion laughed, high and sharp. “I thought Tav was just keeping you from falling on your face.”

“Um, I think I will get some refreshments, that dance was a bit fast for me.  Thank you, though, my lord.  Excuse us.”  You grabbed Astarion's sleeve and dragged him with you towards the tables laid out with an incredible variety of decadent treats.

“That is one of the richest people in Baldur's Gate. And you want to be on his bad side?” 

“Oh, I know who he is.  And if he looks at you like that one more time,” he growled, “I'll rip his throat out.”  Turning so only you could see, he bared his fangs. 

You put your hands on your hips, exasperated.  “It was just a dance.”

“He tried to touch your ass, darling, I think he was after a bit more than ‘just a dance.’”

“If he'd made it that far, I would have removed his hand.”

“Oh but it's so much more fun if you let me do that for you,” he said with a bloodthirsty smirk. 

“Hm.”  You examined his face– the glint in his eyes, the curl of his lip, the general air of satisfaction.  “I think you like being jealous.”

“I have no idea what you might be talking about.” 

“You helped Wyll decide the guest list. You picked my outfit for tonight.  You insisted I wear this jewelry.”

“Do you have a point with this?” he asked airily, taking an elegant sip of wine.  “Or are you just talking to hear your own voice?  Not that I don't love your voice.” 

You narrow your eyes at him.  “I'm saying you knew exactly who would be here and exactly how they would react.  Hells, you probably planned the dances as well.”  You stepped closer to him, crowding his space.  “All so you could play the jealous lover.  It's been years, aren't you tired of that game yet?”

Astarion leaned towards you, seeming to have a quick retort ready for you, but then he straightened.  “Oh Hells, here comes Lady Steelstalker.  She won't even ask you to dance before grabbing your ass.  Come with me.”  With an arm around your waist, he hurried you out of the ballroom. 

He led you up and up until you were entirely lost and fairly out of breath, but he assured you he knew where he was going.  He opened a heavy wooden door at the top of more stairs with a flourish. 

You walked out onto a parapet, overlooking the entire city.  “Oh,” you gasped, delighted at the view.  You stepped up to the crenelation, shivering from the frigid air. 

Astarion wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back into his chest.  He wasn't much warmer than the air, but he blocked the breeze, which helped. 

“Look at the lights!”  Everywhere you looked, colorful holiday lamps shone in windows and hung between buildings on looping ropes.  Luminarias glowed on the streets and balconies.  

The lights decorating the rich houses nearby were crisp and clear.  Farther in the distance, all you could see was little soft dots blurring together, scatters of joy in the black. 

The night was so dark but the city was full of light and color, a magic landscape. 

The music from the ballroom drifted up, faint and ethereal.  Astarion swayed gently to the sound and you put your hands over his on your stomach.  

You had seen many, many sorts of nights with Astarion since he lost the ability to walk in the sun, but this was one of the most beautiful. 

“My city,” he sighed. “I love exploring the world with you, darling, but I always feel most at home here.”

You tipped your head back onto his shoulder, looking up.  The stars glittered sharply in the way they only did on very cold, clear winter nights.  You thought they would cut you, if you could touch them. 

But you could touch your own cold, sharp star, you thought with a smile.  Strong and solid behind you, holding you like he'd never let go.  He buried his nose in your neck and you reached up and back to tangle your fingers in the curls at his nape. 

“I'll never tire of it,” he said against your skin.  “I get such a thrill when I get to show the world that you chose me.  You are the best thing that ever happened to me and no matter how many years pass, I'll still be shooing away anyone who looks at you too long.  I love proving that you are mine.”  You feel his smile.  

You turned in his arms, draping your own around his neck.  “And you're mine.”  You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, icy against your lips.  

“Maybe someday you'll finally let me stab a few of them a little.”

“Just a little?” you giggled. 

“Jealous and covered in blood is quite a good look for me.”

“Oh, absolutely it is.” 

“We should go inside, you must be freezing.”

You wiggled around to look back over the city, filled with peace and hope.  So many families, so many people of every race joining in to spread brightness in the darkest time of the year.  So much love filled your heart, for the people, for the city you'd saved, and especially for the man behind you who had worked so hard to stay with you through his pain. 

“Just a little longer, love.  Our city looks so beautiful."

-

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