#short and full of malice

[beehunterkisser]

fanart of @cometcrystal's genius post about norm being suzy's henchman in the future because im totally obsessed with it and wanted to draw it

[cairdine]

In the past fifty years, fantasy’s greatest sin might be its creation of a bland, invariant, faux-Medieval European backdrop. The problem isn’t that every fantasy novel is set in the same place: pick a given book, and it probably deviates somehow. The problem is that the texture of this place gets everywhere.

What’s texture, specifically? Exactly what Elliot says: material culture. Social space. The textiles people use, the jobs they perform, the crops they harvest, the seasons they expect, even the way they construct their names. Fantasy writing doesn’t usually care much about these details, because it doesn’t usually care much about the little people – laborers, full-time mothers, sharecroppers, so on. (The last two books of Earthsea represent LeGuin’s remarkable attack on this tendency in her own writing.) So the fantasy writer defaults – fills in the tough details with the easiest available solution, and moves back to the world-saving, vengeance-seeking, intrigue-knotting narrative. Availability heuristics kick in, and we get another world of feudal serfs hunting deer and eating grains, of Western name constructions and Western social assumptions. (Husband and wife is not the universal historical norm for family structure, for instance.)

Defaulting is the root of a great many evils. Defaulting happens when we don’t think too much about something we write – a character description, a gender dynamic, a textile on display, the weave of the rug. Absent much thought, automaticity, the brain’s subsconscious autopilot, invokes the easiest available prototype – in the case of a gender dynamic, dad will read the paper, and mom will cut the protagonist’s hair. Or, in the case of worldbuilding, we default to the bland fantasy backdrop we know, and thereby reinforce it. It’s not done out of malice, but it’s still done.

The only way to fight this is by thinking about the little stuff. So: I was quite wrong. You do need to worldbuild pretty hard. Worldbuild against the grain, and worldbuild to challenge. Think about the little stuff. You don’t need to position every rain shadow and align every tectonic plate before you start your short story. But you do need to build a base of historical information that disrupts and overturns your implicit assumptions about how societies ‘ordinarily’ work, what they ‘ordinarily’ eat, who they ‘ordinarily’ sleep with. Remember that your slice of life experience is deeply atypical and selective, filtered through a particular culture with particular norms. If you stick to your easy automatic tendencies, you’ll produce sexist, racist writing – because our culture still has sexist, racist tendencies, tendencies we internalize, tendencies we can now even measure and quantify in a laboratory. And you’ll produce narrow writing, writing that generalizes a particular historical moment, its flavors and tongues, to a fantasy world that should be much broader and more varied. Don’t assume that the world you see around you, its structures and systems, is inevitable.

We... need worldbuilding by Seth Dickinson

[mead-iocre]

Chase Me | Leah Williamson x Reader

synopsis: you ask you very atheletic, footballer girlfriend to chase you-- for a tiktok video

wc: 1k words

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The sky is still tinged with a hint of pink, and the road is mostly empty, save for a few scattered sounds—a bird, the distant hum of a car.

You stretch, lunging from side to side. You stand at the edge of the sidewalk, one foot up on the pavement, leaning into the stretch until you feel that familiar pull along the back of your leg.

Then you switch sides, easing into the stretch onto the other leg, just as your girlfriend comes up from beside you.

"baby, this is silly"

You turn to her, a small smile already plastered on your face upon seeing the unamused expression on hers. Despite her words, there was no hint of malice in her voice.

She's stood just outside the camera's view, boots scuffed from the last practice session, hands on her hips like she owned the whole bloody pitch.

“I’ll catch you easily,” Your girlfriend said, her voice almost lazy in tone. It wasn’t just a bit of banter—it was a warning, delivered with the calm of someone who knew exactly how the game would go.

You breeze past her. "that's what makes it fun, lee"

She clicks her tongue. "I can't believe I let you convince me to do another one of your tiktok videos"

Reaching up to tighten your ponytail, you eye her as she begins to do her own stretches. Despite your girlfriend's initial reluctance, you knew it would only be a matter of time until she agreed. Leah was competitive, and she would never turn down a challenge.

She's dressed in her nike training top, and her training shorts. Her legs were still tan from cannes, and she was wearing her favourite pair of trainers-- the same trainers she wore during training for her professional football job.

Glancing at the nike trainers on her feet, you were starting to have second thoughts. The whole point of the trend was to challenge your partner to a foot chase-- for no particular reason really. Most of the people who participated had partners who were police officers, in the military, firefighters etc.

Having an athlete girlfriend who ran and chased balls for a living-- yeah this video was going to be 5 seconds long, 6 seconds if you're lucky.

But you weren't about to admit that to her.

You take a deep breath, finishing your last couple of stretches, before standing up to your full height. Jogging over to your phone that was perched on a tripod, you press the red record button before you move over to the side.

"okay so im gonna run--"

"and i have to count to 10 before I chase after you-- i got it, baby"

Glancing at her, Leah had that familiar look on her face. She was clearly in no rush-- like she could already see how it would play out, the timing, the run, the moment she'd close the distance. It was all there, lined up in her head like a match she’d already won.

All that was left was the wait.

Making sure the record button on your phone was on, you flash her a quick smile, before you launched forward.

No build-up—just that sharp push off the ground, your legs pump fast, harder than ever before. The air claws at your face, whipping past your ears. You don't even dare to look behind you because you know it will only slow you down.

Your feet slap at the pavement, you can already feel your lungs get tighter but you don't stop. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, barely keeping up.

You hear the sound of another set of feet pounding faintly behind you.

Leah was already running.

She wasn't chasing you for this silly little tiktok challenge-- she's chasing you like she's going to win whatever this was. She’d probably already read your run, knew the angles, and she probably had that smug glint in her eye like she’d already headed the ball past the keeper.

You steal a glance over your shoulder and there she is—focused, fast, her blonde ponytail snapping behind her. She’s not laughing. Her eyes are locked on you, sharp and blue, and you know that look. You’ve seen it on the pitch. During matches. At the gym.

It’s game over.

“Oh, bloody-- fuck-- come on,” you gasp out, trying to hold your lead, but she’s already closing the distance like she’s barely trying.

“Shouldn’t have started this,” she calls out, voice steady despite the speed. She’s barely winded. Of course she’s not.

You push harder, legs screaming now, but she’s too fast. She doesn’t really thud against the pavement like you do. She glides. Like on water. And within seconds, she’s right there, then—

“gotcha!”

She ends your fun as she barrels into you from behind, her laugh loud and husky as she throws her arms around your shoulders. You try to gasp out a protest, but she’s already trapping you in her arms, locking you against her body with no room to escape.

She's grinning now, cheeks flushed rosy, breath coming in sharp but still controlled breathes.

You double over, laughing between gasps. “Fuck-- I really thought I had that”

"You did good, baby" Leah nuzzles into the side of your neck, breath coming in soft pants against your skin. "But you can't outrun a footballer"

You shake your head, still catching your breath. But you let yourself sink into her and she gladly steadies you, welcoming your weight in her arms.

Leaning back, you throw your head back to rest it against her shoulder, smiling when you feel her kiss the side of your head.

“I thought maybe you would slow you down for me” You admit, taking her hand that was wrapped around your waist to bring it to your lips, giving the back of her hand a kiss. "s'not fair"

She leans in close, voice low and cocky. “fuck no”

Leah grabs your chin, turning it towards her. "Now give me a kiss for having to endure your stupid tiktok trends"

Your heart was still pounding erratically and you were still trying to catch your breath, but all you could focus on was her.

You smile, leaning in closer. "what if i don't want to?"

There came that familiar smirk. The same one she flashed just before the chase began; like she knew exactly how this was going to play out. Like the ending was already etched in her mind.

"i know ya do."

the moment ends exactly like how Leah predicted.

With your lips on hers.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

another leah fic WHO ELSE CHEERED (i reallyyyy hope yall did otherwise i will be sad)

I also really hope you guys enjoyed this fic because this one is probably one of my favourite short blurbs that I’ve ever written lol

any plans this summer? for me, i'll be here writing fics lol

hope you're all taking care of yourselves x

-- butter

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Gackt - Lust for Blood 2003

Gackt is a Japanese singer-songwriter, musician, record producer and actor. He has been active since 1993, first as the frontman of the short-lived independent band Cains:Feel, and in 1995-1998 the visual kei rockband Malice Mizer, before starting his solo career in 1999. He has released nine studio albums and, with forty-eight singles released, holds the male soloist record for most top ten consecutive singles in Japanese music history. Besides being established in the modern entertainment industry and a pop icon, Gackt's music has been used as theme songs for video games, video game films, anime series/films, and television series. In addition to his music career, Gackt has acted and voice acted, including characters inspired by him in video games like Bujingai and Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII. He also provided the voice samples for the Vocaloid software Gackpoid.

Crescent is his fourth full-length studio album, released on December 3, 2003. It is a concept album linked to its 2002 predecessor Moon and comes with booklets for both records (Moon did not originally contain one). Crescent also features a duet with L'Arc-en-Ciel vocalist Hyde for "Orenji no Taiyou" with whom Gackt co-starred in the 2003 movie Moon Child. In the third counting week of December the album reached number five on the Oricon charts, with sales of 75,561 copies. It charted for 11 weeks. Since its release the album has sold more than 250,000 copies, being not certified Gold due to change of criteria, but Platinum by the RIAJ.

"Lust for Blood" received a total of 63,1% yes votes! Previous Gackt polls: #282 "Vanilla".

[nobodyknowsimalesbian777]

Watch - Sevika (Arcane)

NSFW tags - brief arguing, masturbation (s!), switch!sevika, switch!reader, cursing, pussy-eatting (s!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), scissoring (yay!!), 18+

authors note - gang im working on my first request im so excited 😈😈 everyone clap for anon rn pls & thank yewwwww

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"you're such a bitch!" you yelled as you slammed your bedroom door, sevika was trailing close behind

"what did i even do?!" she was clearly avoiding raising her voice with you, and you found it difficult to avoid rolling your eyes as you sat on the bed

"go fuck yourself, sevika!" you didn't recognize the malice in your voice, and you almost regret the words as you spoke them

almost.

until your burly, stubborn girlfriend was sinking to her knees in front of you, wrapping her big arm around your calves

you felt the words leave you as you let out an unimpressed huff, hoping she didn't see you press your legs together

"i'm sorry sweet girl.." her hand traveled slowly up your leg until it was resting on the plump of your ass

"let me show you how sorry i am" the soft rasp in her voice made you dizzy

in spite of this, you petulantly turned your head away from her, letting out another unsatisfied huff

sevika continued to drag her hand up and down your side, placing delicate kisses on your exposed thigh

you tried to control your shaking breaths, lacing your hands into her hair as you mumbled something inaudible

the woman at your feet cocked her head at you, encouraging you to speak up

"i want to watch" you murmured, an uncharacteristic look of confusion appearing on sevikas face as you spoke

"watch?" her short brown hair swayed to the side as she questioned you

your face flushed as you spoke again, "i want to watch you..touch yourself, vika" you trailed off, turning away in embarrassment

sevikas confused expression quickly turned to a smirk, "oh?" her confidence was heightened by what you saw as your pure humiliation

you couldn't seem to find words as her grey eyes scanned yours,

and you failed to ignore the growing wetness between your legs as she slowly brought her hand down to the bottom hem of her shirt

in one swift movement, she pulled her shirt over her head, exposing her unbelievably toned chest

you felt yourself let out a small gasp, and your embarrassment seemed to go out the door when she moved her hand down farther and worked on the button of her jeans

her fingers flexed beautifully as she started pulling them off, giving you a full view of her muscular thighs

finally, your eyes landed on the wet patch on her boxers. the sight alone was enough to make you shudder, and you had an unbearable urge to bury yourself in her

you sank down to the floor with sevika as she continued slowly pulling her boxers down, but just as you were leaning forward you were met with her hand on the center of your chest

"no," she said firmly, continuing to pull down her boxers once you backed up, "watch."

you sat on your hands, not being able to take your eyes away as sevika spread her pussy with her index and middle finger

she was putting on a show you couldn't resist, sliding her fingers down to play with her glistening clit

"vikaaa" you couldn't bother being embarrassed by your whining, simply focused on the woman playing with her pussy in front of you

sevikas hands traveled farther down, and you watched as she threw her head back with every stroke of her fingers

the heat between your legs was getting unbearable, and you wanted nothing more then to get lost in between your girls legs

her fingers kept drawing down, eventually pressing her middle finger into her leaking hole

your eyes flew down, watching her fingers dissappear into her cunt. the sight alone was ruining you, and you knew you wouldn't last with the sounds she was making

sevikas head flew back, rough groans and near whimpers leaving her pretty mouth

you took your opportunity and inched towards her, lowering yourself down and watching her fingers pump into her at a pace you could barely believe

after what felt like hours of watching her stuff herself full, sevikas hand moved back up to rub circles around her clit

she looked down at you and cocked her brow, before nodding at you as you moved in to plunge your tounge into her

as soon as your tounge filled her, she let out an intense moan, letting you take her pussy over

her big hand knot into your hair, pulling you closer while she pushed her cunt into your face

you felt completely at peace letting sevika use your face the way she was, covering the bottom half of your face in her slick

she completely let herself go, moaning and breathing heavily as her orgasm caught up to her

much to her amusal, you reached your hand under you, rubbing your own clit in search of release

her moans were laced with breathy chuckles as she watched you desperately try to get yourself off

sevikas hand trailed down your back, reaching for your pussy.

your moans echoed and mixed with sevikas, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from her face, slack with pleasure

"this pretty pussy all mine?" she murmured above you, so sexy without having to try

you nodded aggressively into her, pussy drunk and just wanting her to finish on your tounge

of course her timing was impeccable, as she gripped your hair, her moans raising in pitch. "gonna come on that pretty face" she moaned out, her body tensing with her grip

you pushed your tounge deep inside her, your eyebrows screwing together as you lapped up everything she gave you

she noticed you still working yourself back onto her fingers, chasing your own high while working her through her own

without a second thought, sevika pulled you up into her, eliciting a surprised yelp from you

she leaned back, putting her abs on full display while she lined your pussy up with hers, slowly lowering you down and easing your hips back and forth

your moans echoed through the room as you slid your dripping cunt against sevikas, her clearly overstimulated pussy pulling needy groans from her

with the way the band in your stomach was tightening, you knew it wouldn't be long before she pushed you over the edge

her big arm slithered around your waist, pulling you in and clashing her lips against yours while you continued your ministrations

sevikas hand traveled freely along your body, adjusting you to exactly where she wanted you to come

knowing she had that physical power over you was enough to snap the band in your belly, and your moans spilled out while you continued grinding against sevika

her eyes were glued on you as you came, her hand eventually coming up to cup your face and trace your lips

sevika, of course, rode you through your high, telling you how pretty you sounded slutting yourself out for her

after your eventful evening, sevika was sure to lay you down. her generosity was endless as she prepared you for the rest of the night, knowing she wasn't even close to done with you

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need to see sevika masturbating 4K what who said thattttt

[moonstruckme]

Your work has been a great source of joy and relief to me (at last after a day of shitty circumstance i get to thrive in my free time with your witing) and i just want to thank you for that...💗💗💗

But i do also wanna request a jealous reader to james or remus, I'm genuinely curious as to how they'll handle that and what will they do to satiate reader

Thank you, sweetheart! Love you <3

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

James looks especially sightly today, his brown skin gleaming in the sun and hair stuck slick to his forehead. He’s shirtless, which is always a treat, muscled abdomen sometimes distorted beneath the pool water and sometimes slipping above, inadvertently teasing, and his shoulders look especially strapping with Lily’s pale thighs seated atop them. 

You really like Lily. You’re quite disappointed in yourself, actually, for the hot flash of malice that goes through you when she burrows her manicured fingers in your boyfriend’s hair, laughing about losing her balance. James moves his grip from her knees up to her thighs, promising he’s got her. Something foul and warmish curdles in your gut. 

On the other side of the pool, Sirius and Remus advance like a totem pole with two wildly different faces, one menacing and the other reluctant. They’d asked if you wanted to play chicken, but getting pushed and shoved by Sirius isn’t your idea of a good time. You figured you’d be more content here, sitting on the edge of the pool with your feet kicking idly in the cool water, but now you can see how it does sort of look like a couples activity, Sirius atop Remus’ shoulders and Lily on James’. It’s no secret that James had pined after Lily for years. It was back in their school days, before you met him, but it’s been brought up a few times in a teasing way that’s made it clear to you that everyone knew how he felt about her. You wonder if Lily ever thinks about it. If she’s assured, consciously or not, that she could have him back at any time of her choosing. It’s not something you love to dwell upon. 

The pairs are fairly evenly matched. Sirius fights dirty, splashing water up at Lily and trying to unhook one of her knees from around James’ shoulder, but Remus can’t be bothered to participate and looks like he’d be just as happy to be pushed over and call it done. Lily, meanwhile, isn’t as creative a fighter and is only shoving at Sirius’ shoulders, but James provides a strong base. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of her legs, calling up encouragements and occasionally freeing a hand to pinch upwards at Sirius’ side. Sirius shrieks and swears at this, claiming that it’s against the rules. Eventually, Remus gets tired of supporting his boyfriend’s weight and feigns a fall back into the water. Sirius squawks as he goes down, and Lily and James cheer and high-five before he helps her dismount with far more grace. 

You clap and smile like a good girlfriend. James beams as he swims over to you. Sometimes looking at James’ smile at full capacity is a bit like looking at the sun, and you feel like you need some special glasses to gaze directly at it. This is one of those times. 

He takes your calf in his big hand and leans his cool cheek on your warm knee and makes you feel like the most special girl in the world, and you can’t stop thinking that Lily probably knows this exact feeling. 

You make extra sure to be nice to Lily on your way out later that evening, guilty and vexed with yourself for the way you’ve been thinking about her. James waves a friendly goodbye to the group as you both step outside. 

Instantly, his arm is around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. James was prepared for the nighttime chill, pulling a sweatshirt out of his bag as soon as the sun set, whereas you’re in a tank top and shorts that have grown damp from your swimsuit. You lean into him gratefully. 

“Did you have a good time today?” he asks.

“Mhm.” 

“Yeah?” He tilts his head a bit, looking down at your face. “You seemed a bit off.” 

You shrug. You should have expected James would notice. “I guess I just wished I’d participated more.” 

He makes a contemplative humming sound. “You don’t mean that you think people didn’t want you to participate, right? They love you, angel, you know that.” 

“No, I…” You want to say I know, but you’re worried you’ll sound conceited. You never usually second-guess yourself like this around James. You sort of hate it. “I just didn’t realize that if I said no to playing chicken, Lily was going to be your partner instead.” 

He’s quiet for a second. Something in your gut twists uneasily. 

“I thought you liked Lily.” 

“I do.” 

“Are you jealous?” 

“No.” 

You answer without thinking, because whatever you might be feeling right now, you are not a jealous person. You won’t be that kind of girlfriend. The breeze picks up, and goosebumps prickle down your arms, making you shiver.

“Are you cold?” James asks. 

You know he’s going to want to give you his sweatshirt, and you really can’t be taking things from him right now. “I’m alright.” 

“You know you’ve got nothing to worry about with Lily,” he tells you, thumb brushing softly over the skin of your bare shoulder. It should be reassuring, but suddenly you’re thinking about how this same hand looked so comfortable wrapped around Lily’s thigh. You step out from under his arm, crossing your arms as casually as you can against the chill. 

“I’m not worried,” you reply. 

James looks perplexed, and also a little dubious. The thought of him not believing you, even if you are lying, fills you with a burning indignation. 

“I just don’t see why you had to be touching her so much,” you say. “You could’ve looked a bit less eager.” 

He actually laughs at that, but the look on your face stops him quickly. “Sorry, but did you really think I looked eager?” he asks, a little smile still teasing the corners of his lips like you’re a child he has to talk down from a fit. “That’s just part of the game, sweetheart.” 

The way he says it, sweetheart, suddenly feels less affectionate and more like a placation. Condescending. Heat builds behind your eyes, and you realize with horror that you feel like you might actually cry. You’ve never felt so distant from James. Not even when you’d first started dating. 

You pick up your pace, staying ahead to keep him from seeing your face. “You didn’t have to touch her legs so much,” you huff. 

“I was keeping her from falling off!” he laughs, incredulous. 

You roll your eyes. James lengthens his stride to catch up to you. 

“So let me get this straight,” he says. He sounds more serious than before, which you thought you’d wanted but now you’re not so sure. Your heart trembles. “You wanted me to throw the whole game to just avoid touching my friend’s legs?” 

“She wasn’t always your friend,” you remind him. 

“Yes, she was.”

You don’t know how to respond to that. From a factual standpoint, he’s not wrong, but you know that Lily was more than that in James’ head for quite some time. He can’t boil it down to something so simple. 

The silence stretches out between you, ice-thin and just as cold. Then you shiver again, and James sets a hand on your shoulder. It’s only there for a second before he retracts it, as if unsure what he’s allowed. Your heart throbs. 

“You are cold,” he says, and his tone is doting teetering on the brink of accusatory. He grabs the hem of his sweatshirt. “Here, have—”

“I don’t want your sweatshirt,” you say sharply. 

James pauses. “Why not?” 

“I just don’t.” 

“Sweetheart, you’re cold.” 

“So what?” You cross your arms harder, trying to hide your trembling under the guise of general agitation. “That’s not what we’re talking about.” 

“What are we talking about?” he asks you. “How I let Lily sit on my shoulders as part of a game and now I’ll surely leave you for her?” 

Even as a joke, it stings. “Would you?”

“Of course not!” His hands spread out in front of him, helpless. “What do you want me to do? Should I just never be friends with another girl again?” 

“No, it’s not—it’s not that.” Your eyes burn. You’re frustrated with him for intentionally missing the point, and frustrated with yourself for needing his reassurance in the first place. “I just want to know that you’d pick me over her.” 

“I have!”

“You didn’t pick, James.” Your breathing is starting to sound ragged. The words taste acidic in your mouth. “She picked for you.” 

“Angel, that was ages ago.” James softens his voice, likely hearing the tears in yours. “I don’t see her that way anymore. She was right, we wouldn’t have worked together.” 

“But how can you know that?” Your voice breaks just as a harsh shiver goes through you, and you wrap your arms more tightly around yourself. 

“Alright, that’s enough.” You don’t have to turn around to hear that James has stopped walking behind you, his footsteps halting. Reluctantly, you slow in response but don’t turn around, waiting to see what he’s doing. “Come here.” When you don’t move, his voice hardens into a tone you don’t hear often. “Come here.” 

You turn around, more curious than anything, and James has taken his sweatshirt off. He tugs it over your head before you can say anything. 

“James!” you protest, squirming, but his hold is strong. He manages to wrestle one of your arms into a sleeve before he seems to decide that’s good enough and leaves you be. 

“Quit being so stubborn,” he says, still in that same tone. You stop trying to get the sweatshirt off, hands dropping to your sides. James has never been so stern with you before. You don’t quite know how to react. “You’re freezing, and your hair’s still wet. There’s no sense in suffering through it just because you want to have a row.” 

“I don’t want to,” you tell him, but your words sound petulant even to your own ears. 

“Then listen.” He takes your jaw in hand, setting his eyes on yours. “I do not want to be in a relationship with Lily. I thought I did once, but I don’t anymore.” He waits a second, making sure this sinks in, before his voice softens. “I’m going to be friends with girls. That’s just…that’s the way I’ve always been. But I’m with you because I’m happiest with you, and this isn’t going to work if you don’t trust me.” 

You nod, suddenly flooded with self loathing. A tear skids down your face when you blink. “I’m sorry. It’s not about…I do trust you, I promise. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” 

“Honey,” James murmurs. The tear lands on his index finger, and his face pinches like it stings. “Listen, if I saw some guy with his hands all over you, I’d—”

“In a bathing suit,” you add tearfully. 

“With his hands all over you in a bathing suit,” he amends, “I’d probably be upset too. But you’ve got to tell me these things, you know? If you’d brought it up at the time, I could’ve told you I don’t feel that way about Lily and maybe you would’ve had a better afternoon.” 

“I didn’t want to be the jealous girlfriend,” you admit. “I really do like Lily, I didn’t mean to accuse either of you of anything.” 

“I think…I think some amount of jealousy has to be normal,” James says, brows bunched pensively even as his finger strokes at your cheek. “We’re each other’s, you know? It’s just letting it get in your head that’s the problem. If you’re thinking I’d pursue someone else while I’m with you, that doesn’t reflect very well on me.” 

You shake your head, leaning away from James’ hand to wipe your nose. “I don’t really. I know you’d be—you’d at least be nice about it. You’d tell me.” 

Pain etches itself into the indent between your boyfriend’s brows. He takes your face between both hands now, looking into your eyes determinedly. “I love you,” he says, bending to press a firm kiss between your brows. “Understand?” 

You wrap your arms around his middle, pushing past his face to tuck your head under his chin. “I love you too.” Your voice is ardent if a bit wobbly, tears that feel more like a reaction to a past fright than anything else still moving sluggishly down your face. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s forgiven, sweetheart.” James’ big palm comes to rest between your shaking shoulder blades, scrubbing up and down firmly. “Let’s get home, yeah?”

[tswhiisftteedr]

Wings ☆ Drabble/Really Short One Shot

☆ Adam x Wingless Angel!Fem!Reader :

They were just so pretty, you couldn’t help but touch your boyfriend’s beautiful golden wings. And hey, what was the worst that could happen’ probably nothing too bad, right?

Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Praise & Degradation, Adam is a bit condescending and forceful, but hey, it’s Adam we’re talking about. Oral Sex(Female Receiving), Penetrative Sex, First Time As A Couple. NOT PROOFREAD.

Words: 2330

Ask: Hi! ^^ Omg I saw that your requests are open!! I have one for Adam from Hazbin Hotel. I have a headcanon that his wings are very very sensitive and when you touch them it drives him crazy. Could you please do a Nsfw/ smut headcanon, or scenario with him and his female S/O just hanging out, him eating and she gets curious and touches softly them (not knowing what the affect it)? I hope you have a beautiful day!

Note: Of course!! And thank you, hope you also have a beautiful day/night!! Thanks for the request, right now I’m going to work on my others lol. Hope you like what I wrote!!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Ever since your ascent to Heaven post-mortem, a sense of exclusion lingered in your heart. Unlike most heavenly beings with wings, you were one of the few soul that lack that part of the brand new heavenly anatomy. While everyone in Heaven remained kind and courteous, the infrastructure, were obvious designed for winged inhabitants. That posed you quite the challenges, especially when you where in need of transportation— the lack of automobiles was your greatest nemesis in the afterlife, as everyone effortlessly soared using their wings they didn’t need them.

Despite a subtle feeling of inferiority, your fascination with wings endured. Their majestic allure captivated you, and the desire to experience the softness of the beautiful contraptions persisted. ‘You just had to feel them!’

And you were determined to do so today, as you had received an invitation from Adam to come over.

Currently, you find yourself enjoying takeout on the expansive balcony of his penthouse. It was nice scenery, a comfy outdoor couch with a coffee table full of food.

As he rambled about his day, you nodded along, your attention solely fixed on the captivating golden wings adorning his sides and back. Sneakily inching closer to him, captivated by their beauty. “—Anyways that chick had a huge rack,” He pauses to take a bite of his burger, “So I guessed even Karen ass bitches can be hot.” he finishes with gulp.

Then you finally had a hold of them, ‘his marvellous wings!’ You were engrossed at their exquisite softness, surpassing any feathers from animals you had ever touched. Lost in the delicate material for about a solid five minutes, it had than dawned on you that Adam had stopped talking. Looking back up at him, you notice he had dropped his burger on the table. Then when you glanced at his face, you noted that he looked ‘different’, if you had to describe it, his face almost looked feverish.

In a blink, you were flipped onto your back and hit the couch cushions, then one of Adam's hands pinned both of your hands above your head.

“Fuuuck, babe! You don't need to get so handsy just because your jealous, you could've just fucking said so instead of acting a little tease, feelin’ me up and all.” He informs you while staring down at your perplexed expression, because, while Adam talked dirty in general, you had  no��idea  what  you had done to be a tease in this particular  situation.

While that question spun in your head, Adam moved closer to your ear, his words jolting you out of your thoughts.

“if you were feeling needy, you just had to speak up. You know I would never leave my girl hanging, especially if getting her little brains fuck out is what she wants.” His voice low, full of desire and malice. He then playfully nip at your ear, ‘now who was the tease again?’

“Wait what— Um, Adam, where is all this coming from?!” You speak up, clearly nervous as a result of your boyfriend's statements and how close your bodies were together.

“The fuck you mean? You started this shit.” He begins, slowly sliding his free hand up your thigh. “Getting in my personal space, touching my wings to get me riled up, are you really gonna play the clueless card now you slutty little thing.” His hand now reaching under you shirt. “Think you can mess with me and just act like nothing happened, huh?” He says as he fondles with one of your breast.

“What do mean get you riled up, I barely touch you!?” You speak out anxiously; this was going far beyond anything you had done before. You two would kiss passionately at most, never doing anything remotely close to, 'well this!' It was strange; he almost acted like he did when he was mad, but this was somewhat different.

"Bold lie for an angel, like you wouldn't know— Oh, riiiight, you don't have wings." It had now dawned on him that you were utterly clueless of the affects the soft petting you gave to his wings had on him, and how depraved it made him feel.

"Yeah. I am not sure what I did to you when I touched your wings, but let me make one thing clear: it was unintentional. Seriously, they seemed soft, and I wanted to know how nice they were to the touch. So I'm sorry for making you mad; I should have asked before touching them.” You explain.

"Aww babes, don't worry, you didn't make me mad, and I'll tot's forgive you,"

You briefly relax as he speaks, well that is, until he opens his mouth again.

"Yeah I'll definitely forgive you if take care of my raging hard on for me'." He emphasised his words by grinding himself against you, making you feel his erection, and oh boy! Was he big; his self-appointed title of 'dickmaster' didn't seem so baseless anymore.

Your heart races faster as you feel a wave of panic wash over you. Despite his words, you couldn’t help but feel anxious about the situation. It was a big milestone to you, ‘the first time the two of you would have intercourse’.

You squirmed slightly, attempting to break free from his hold due to nerves but soon realize it was futile with him pinning your hands above your head. "I... I'm not sure that—," you started to say, but before you could finish, he cut you off.

"Shut up and enjoy the ride, babes." He growled softly, taking advantage of your momentary hesitation to quickly roughly kiss your lips. His tongue thrusts aggressively into your mouth, demanding entry while his other hand continues cupping your breast, squeezing and groping roughly. His erection presses harder against your thigh, digging into your sensitive flesh.

Despite your initial protests and confusion, you can't deny the familiar thrill coursing through your veins. You knew better, yet you still arch into his touch, moaning softly against his rough treatment.

As a warning to quit your shifting around, Adam's grip tightens around your wrists, almost painfully so, causing you to whimper in discomfort mixed with arousal.

And when he finally breaks the kiss, his breathing is heavy and labored.

"You like it, don't you?" He asked, his voice low with desire. His hips rock back and forth, grinding against you harder, making sure you felt every inch of his member. "Admit it, Y/N."

"A-adam, please... I—," you pleaded while being out of breath, but your words were cut off by another deep kiss. His tongue forced its way past your lips, exploring your mouth hungrily yet his hand didn't stop its manhandling of your chest. Meanwhile, his cock throbbed painfully against your thigh, leaving a trail of precum on your clothes.

The sensation was too much for you to handle; despite your original nervousness, the thoughts of messing up or not being enough had dissipated, and you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him anymore. You wanted him and he was totally into you.

Plus your body responded to his touch in ways you didn’t expect it to, it was incredibly in tune with his wants. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as he continued his assault on both your body and mind.

Suddenly, Adam pulled away, his breathing heavy and short. "Good girl," he praised, his tone laced with satisfaction. "Now, spread those legs for me."

While being aroused, you still reluctantly spread your legs wide apart, letting him take off your shorts and exposing your wet panties. "Please, Adam," you whimpered, unable to resist his advances any longer.

With a growl of lust, he ripped off your remaining clothes, revealing your naked body to him. His eyes devoured every inch of you—your stomach, to your hips and obviously your beautiful pussy. Without further ado, he leaned forward, his mouth descending upon your navel, tracing slow, hot lines with his tongue before moving lower still. "Mmmm, you smell so fucking good toots," he murmured against your sensitive flesh.

His hands trailed downwards too, cupping your thighs in his palms, squeezing and kneading them. Soon switching to one free hand and one holding down your legs, inching his face to your then and lapping at your heat.

“Adam, what in the heavens are you doing!?"

“Uh, trying to eating you out, pretty obvious babes”

"Yeah, I get that, but like, why?? You always complain about 'bitches being annoying for demanding you go down on them.' when you mentioned passed relationships"

"Oh yeah, I did say that lmao. Honestly, I just feel like it. You look so pathetically adorable; I couldn’t help myself."

“Did— did you just lmao out loud?”

“Do you want me to stop eating you out with all your interruptions.” He threatens.

"No! I mean, I'm alright. Please continue."

"That’s what I thought too, babes," he grinned around your wet folds, sucking and licking at your sensitive spots. His tongue traced along your cunt, flicking against your clit before returning to tease your entrance again.

You moaned softly, your hands grasping tightly onto Adam's horns as he continued to pleasure you. You arched into him, letting out a soft whimper when his long tongue brushed against your G-spot. "Mmmhmmm... More please..." you managed to mutter between heavy breaths.

He chuckled lightly against your sensitive flesh before pulling away slightly. "Alright, alright." With renewed vigor, he returned to his task with even more enthusiasm, sucking harder and faster on your clit while his fingers teased her opening. He could feel your wetness increasing rapidly, seeping down onto his hand.

Your body trembled and shook in response to the intense sensations assaulting every inch of your being; you were close now—very close. Your breathing became increasingly shallow as she fought the impending orgasm building up inside of her. Then finally you reached sweet climax.

Adam momentarily let go of you to undress himself, now cock in hand."Tell me you want it," he demanded between kisses to neck, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

"I... I do," you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible above your heavy breathing.

"That's my girl," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. Without warning, he thrust his cock deep inside you, filling you completely. A sharp cry escaped your lips as the unfamiliar yet familiar feeling washed over you. His thrusts were fast and hard, pounding into you relentlessly. Each powerful stroke brought forth a moan from your throat, mixing with his growls of pleasure.

Your body adjusted quickly to his size, accommodating him easily despite initial discomfort. You arched your back against him, meeting his rhythmic thrusts. The sensation was unlike anything you've ever experienced before—it hurt, but in the best possible way. Your chest bounced with each powerful thrust.

As Adam continued to ravish you, his fingers found their way between your legs, rubbing and massaging your sensitive folds. He teased and tormented your clit mercilessly, causing waves of intense pleasure to ripple through your core. After staring at your lower half for a minute, “I should totally get my name tatted on you, like a crotch tattoo or some shit.” he tells you in his usual goofy tone, yet the look behind his eyes seem to say that he wasn’t completely joking. You on the other could only cry out his name between ragged breaths, begging for more.

“That's it, you filthy little whore," he murmured between labored breaths. "Tell me how much you love this, slut." His pace picked up even more, slamming into you harder and faster than before. Your moans echoed around the room as he relentlessly claimed your body.

In response to his demand, you managed to choke out, "I... I love it!" Your voice cracking with desire, filled with honesty despite yourself.

"Good girl." He growled, picking up speed. His hips slammed against yours in a brutal rhythm that left you gasping for air. His fingers continued their relentless assault on your sensitive spots, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. As a reflex you grabbed at his back, well in this case, his wings.

And that action fucked with him so bad. So Adam bit down hard on your neck, leaving a mark that would later turn into a pretty obvious hickey. Blood trickled down your skin, but it only served to heighten your arousal. "Cum for me, babe," he groaned, his voice hoarse with lust. "Let go, don’t think too hard about it"

You were close, so close to the brink of orgasm. The constant barrage of stimulation was too much for your body to handle, and you couldn't hold back anymore. "A-Adam... I'm..."

"That's it, baby," he encouraged you, his words thick with desire. He increased the pace even more, pounding into you relentlessly.

With a loud cry, you release around him, your pussy contracting tightly around his cock as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over you. Your entire body shook with the force of your climax, and sweat trickled down your body, mixing with his saliva and cum.

Adam groaned in satisfaction, following suit moments later, filling you up with his hot seed. Panting heavily, he lifted his head to stare into your eyes, his gaze filled with lust and satisfaction. "That was fucking amazing, shit, that’s why your my fav."

After momentarily going inside to get cleaned up, you had returned to the balcony.

“Shit my burger is cold!” Adam bitches.

“Well what did you expect it was left on a table while being outdoors— Oh, shit, did someone-?” You begin, than the realization of the what just happened hits Locke a truck.

“-Hear us? Yeah most likely, but doesn’t really matter, they won’t do shit about it, well probably.” He says followed by a laugh.

Sometimes you wondered why you were dating someone so irresponsible, but after today, you did have another bullet point to add to your pros list. ‘The dick was good’

Thanks @starlightfire97 for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

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[thisthatpinkvenom]

FREAKS ON A FRIDAY

COLLEGE BF!WOOYOUNG / FEM READER

⤏ Synopsis: Your boyfriend, Wooyoung, is as cool as a cucumber. You, not so much. When you go into a jealous fit at a Friday night party, he's nothing short of amused at how cute you are. And he knows just how to simmer down your hot temper.

⤏ Genre(s): *drabble, smut (what's new?)

⤏ Content: college!au, established relationship!au, non-idol!au

⤏ NSFW Warning(s): unprotected piv, mean switch!Wooyoung, switch!fem reader, face slapping, hair pulling, oral (fem receiving), nipple play, dirty talk, possessiveness, reader has nipple piercings, please keep in mind that both are quite masochistic

⤏ Note*: this content is completely fictional.

“My eyes are up here, Dickhead!”

“But my eyes are down here, Sugartits; not my fault they’re right in front of me.”

Your boyfriend, Wooyoung, sat himself on the toilet lid, his hands that found home on your hips pulling you closer as you stumbled between his parted thighs. He wasn’t fazed at all by your eyes that were blown out in anger, veiling that shit-eating grin you knew all too well behind a composed smirk. If it weren’t obvious already, it took a lot more than your cute little tantrums to have an effect on him. He knew how to handle that short fuse of yours like clockwork.

“You are not allowed to call me that right now.”

“C’mon, you love it when I call you that,” he slurred, nuzzling his face between your breasts in the process. To his dismay, you wriggled out of his hold, leaning against the wall before tucking your chest under your arms.

“Why don’t you ask Kristen or Kirsten—whatever the hell her name is—to let you motorboat her tits?” you spat.

Wooyoung couldn’t resist the laugh that fought hard to escape his lips, shaking his head and adjusting the shades that kept most of his bangs away from his face. He didn’t let your seething demeanor stop him from joining you once again, pressing his frame gently against you with a hand resting on the wall beside your head. The other cradled your chin between his fingers, and that grin of his showed up in its full form.

“There’s no girl’s tits I wanna motorboat other than yours, Baby.”

You rolled your eyes, hoping that was enough to distract yourself from your thumping heart.

“Well, aren’t you such a romantic?” you said, voice laced with sarcasm.

A few knocks at the door stole your attention for a fleeting moment, and you both opt to ignore them. Wooyoung sighed once the knocks became louder, briefly retracting from you to yell out, “It’s occupied!”

“Not anymore. I’m leaving,” you muttered. But before you could move, he’s got you cornered again, and it’s your turn to sigh. Despite the smile still lingering on his lips, he sounded more serious this time.

“How many times do I have to tell you that Kirsten’s just a friend? You jealous girl,” he said, no malice in his tone. Rather, he was quite gentle with how he spoke to you.

“She was playing with your hair!”

“And she has a girlfriend, Baby—who was right beside her.”

Your lips parted and closed a few times as you tried to gather your words, but you didn’t know what to say. He took it as a sign to continue reassuring you, placing his hand on your warm cheek.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it clear to you, I should’ve. I don’t see her that way at all; she definitely does not see me that way. I’ll consider your feelings more from now on, okay?”

Your lips formed a pout, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes as embarrassment washed over you.

“I’m sorry for overreacting. It’s just that…your hair—”

“You like being the only one pulling on it, huh?”

He didn’t hide that he noticed how his question had caught you off guard.

“W-What?”

“Don’t play all ‘shy girl’ with me now. You know, I can still feel the effects of how hard you pulled on my hair last night,” he purred. “You would love it if I got on my knees and let you run your fingers in my hair right now, hm?”

You stammered his name under your breath when he licked a strip along your neck, kissing and sucking your skin before moving lower to your breasts. It never bothered him too much when you wore a form-fitting shirt and forewent a bra, the shape of your piercings bulging under the tight, stretchy fabric. That was as long as he was the only one who had the privilege of playing with them, of course. And when your shirt was bunched above your breasts, he stole more than just a quick look. His eyes were hungry, staring long enough to brand the image of your tits in his mind.

Two cute little silver hearts for both of your nipples, hugging the buds together just perfectly. You just had them pierced a month or so ago, and you’d be lying if you denied that half the reason why you did was for Wooyoung. You wanted to get something that was only to share with him; in a sense, it made your heart flutter at how intimate it really was. Maybe a few others got a glimpse of your piercings sometimes, but Wooyoung always received the full experience.

“I’ll never get tired of these,” he murmured, pressing his thumbs on your nipples to light a reaction from you. He was good at catching every little detail about you, savoring each short breath you took, how your lips parted, and the way your tummy contracted from any shock of pleasure.

“You really went through that pain for me,” he stated more so than asked.

“It’s worth it,” you whispered. “And it feels...hah”—your face contorted when he captured your nipple between his lips—“it feels s-so good now. So sensitive…”

He hummed. “I bet it does.”

The air was so thick and hot, polluted with the pungent mix of alcohol and weed; it made you a little lightheaded. The shitty trap song muffled by the door went deaf on your ears, and all you could focus on was the wet muscle that toyed with your nipple. Your hand found its way to the other, begging to be touched and tweaked between your fingers. The heat between your legs was growing to be unbearable, thighs spread apart as if they were ready to welcome his touch between them.

He released your flesh with a pop, giving you one dizzying kiss that had him dropping to his knees nearly going unnoticed by you. He squeezed your thighs in his hands, eventually snaking them higher to push the hem of your denim skirt up. You threw on whatever pair of underwear you could find in your drawer and unfortunately for you, they were light enough to show an embarrassingly dark spot left by your arousal. And fortunately for him, he got to ogle at it.

His finger wagged against your clothed nub, an almost mocking chuckle leaving him. “What an easy girl you are.”

“Sh-Shut up.”

“Make me.”

You didn’t know what came over you to do what you did next. Your panties slipped down to your ankles and before he knew it, his shades slipped from his hair as you grabbed a fistful of his locks at the base, shoving his head between your legs. Wooyoung made a small sound of surprise, though he easily complied, parting his lips almost immediately to suck on your clit.

“Why are you s-such a tease, Wooyo?” you whined, frustration building in your tone as you hooked one leg over his shoulder and began to roll your hips. “You piss me o-off sometimes!”

He groaned when the grasp on his hair tightened, your nails grazing his scalp in an almost indescribable, painful pleasure that had blood rushing up his cock. His hands searched for purchase on your thighs, his own nails digging into your flesh deep enough that they’d leave little crescents behind.

“S-Sometimes I feel like you really need me to ride your face to sh-shut you up,” you moaned.

He’d nearly creamed in his pants right then and there. You were so fucking cute and hot all in one when you were mad like this.

“Wooyo, g-gonna cum! Gonna cum, gonna cum—oh, my fucking God…”

With one last whimper, you reached climax, bliss intoxicating your senses as you rode your orgasm out on his face until you reached satisfaction. You released your grip on his hair, pushing him away gently while you caught your breath, waiting out the twitching in your thighs to settle down in silence. Your boyfriend was left speechless for a minute, dazed as if there was nothing in that pretty little head of his other than the voice that told him to lick your cum off his lips.

The next thing you knew, your ass was perched on the countertop, your hand accidentally flipping the faucet on in an attempt to balance yourself. Wooyoung stood between your thighs and unbuckled his belt, slipping out his cock from underneath his boxers. As much as you loved seeing him naked, you were always fascinated by the sight of him fully clothed, nothing but his erection dripping with pre-cum exposed to you. Maybe it was the urgency—the need to fuck you right now so overpowering that he didn’t have the patience to strip his clothes off.

“You’re such an impatient little brat,” he huffed, a hushed groan interrupting his thoughts when he slid his cock in your warmth. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you savored the sensation of being stretched open for the first time that night. He grabbed handfuls of your ass before landing two simultaneous smacks that aroused a yelp from you, and whispered, “You’re lucky that I liked that.”

He didn’t warn you about the strong thrust that had your jaw dropping, one that was followed by a series of jackhammered movements that left you a broken, moaning mess. You probably didn’t sound the prettiest right now, switching between whimpers and pants like you were some bitch in heat. But the beauty of Wooyoung was that you didn’t have to be insecure about how you sounded, because he liked everything that was you. Even if he fucked you like he hated your guts.

“What was that you said about riding m-my face? To shut me up, h-huh? How about I fuckin’ slap you to teach you a lesson?” he grunted.

You swore that you felt a surge of your arousal dripping on the countertop with every pounding from his cock. Nothing turned you on more than a nice slap on your face from Wooyoung, you nearly melted into a pile of mush in his grasp.

“F-Fuck—yes!” you cried.

His thrusts never wavered as his hand lingered near your face, ready to land a firm hit on your cheek.

“Mm, here it comes, Baby.”

One, two, three slaps came at you that rendered you dizzy, the stinging pain on your cheek dissipating into a tingling pleasure. Wooyoung’s eyes studied in lust at how your own had fluttered shut, the whites peaking underneath your lashes as he soothed the affected area with his thumb. He repeated the same pattern one more time, almost disgustingly enamored at how much of a painslut his sweet girl was.

“Need to learn how to control your temper,” he muttered.

There was something about your pout and your knitted brows, matched with your flushed skin and your disheveled hair that had him going. How could he resist a face like that?

“I just—ah—love you s-so much, Wooyo!”

You were too cute for your own good.

His hand led yours onto his face, warm to the touch and glistening with sweat. With a few nods, he said softly, “S-Slap me…I haven’t been good e-either, Baby.”

“Wooyo,” you crooned.

“Do it n-now,” he insisted. “I’m all yours.”

And with that, your fingers reached for the back of his head, grasping his hair near his scalp before pulling it back. Wooyoung let out a wanton moan when your hand met his cheek. His hips began to slam against you at unbridled speeds as he began to lose himself in pure, sexual bliss.

“Fuck…hit me h-harder! Like you fucking mean it,” he whined. His cock continued to ram in and out of you, growing sloppier with each fuck as you watched his eyes glaze with tears, and his cheeks flushed with pink. You did as you’re told and slapped him with a firm smack, and that’s what it took for him to smash your lips together with his own. You threw your arms around his neck while he groped your breast, fondling your nipple with his thumb as you both swallowed the other’s growingly high-pitched moans.

“You’re mine,” you mumbled against his lips.

Those two words were enough for him to release a guttural groan, filling your pussy with spurts of cum that left him trembling. But he didn’t stop there, muffling his cries of overstimulation by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You could feel the warm tears dripping onto your back, the desperate need to make you cum becoming so apparent that it made your head spin. And with a few more frantic bucks from his hips, your walls suffocated his throbbing cock with a selfish squeeze, your gratified mewls melding with his broken pleas.

His weight toppled over you while you’re rendered boneless, legs falling limp against the bottom cupboards after releasing his waist. Wooyoung snuggled his face into the crook of your neck, absorbing the intoxicating pheromones that have begun to mask your fading perfume. You’re both left speechless for a few minutes, digesting the music that had been indistinct to your ears during your little fuck session. And when you’re ready, you each check on the other, sharing vulnerable kisses and sweet nothings that were reserved only between you and him.

You didn’t know exactly how long you’d spent time in the bathroom, but judging by the glaringly sour looks of a few who stood nearby on the outside, you’d say you took a considerable amount of sweet time. And as you expected from your ever-so-composed boyfriend, he sent the next person a smirk, rubbing his own red, blotchy cheek. Fixing his shades on top of his head, he entwined his fingers with yours soon after.

“It’s all yours.”

[soov]

HOW TO DRiNK。 lee heeseung

fem reader & frat heeseung ᗢ 8OO words ━━ fluff ꕀ college!au, estabilished relationship, repost ⌗ WARNiNGS pet names, kissing, drinking, cursing.

No alcohol or alcohol? No alcohol or alcohol?

“Honestly, miss, I think you should go full out with real whiskey. I’m sure your boyfriend will like it.” The bartender suggested kindly, wiping a rocks glass. “And if he doesn’t, it was worth the experience.”

You glanced up at the guy who you had been bothering the whole night with your drink struggles and nodded, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Give me a glass then, please. Neat.”

“Right away!”

The sound of Heeseung’s laughter was filtered from all the other noises by your ears. You smiled at your boyfriend, who seemed terribly tipsy, talking to Sunghoon a few feet away from you.

Even though he had only drank a small glass of Bee’s Knees — following your long chat with the bartender to decide which cocktail you’d get him — Heeseung looked like he had been drinking the whole night. His alcohol tolerance was terrible.

He wasn’t used to drinking, because: one, he didn’t like the taste of alcohol, but he had only tried some cheap beer and wine when he and the boys were freshmen. Two, he had to take care of you at the parties, and he really enjoyed getting pampered by your drunk self, and returning the favor later.

But, out of the very blue, Heeseung decided to try it out at one of Jake’s frat parties, and you agreed to be his tutor, starting off easy with the sweet cocktail.

“Miss... Your whiskey.” The bartender called for the second time, chuckling when he noticed your nervous expression. “He’ll be fine. Just give him small sips first."

Sighing, you took the glass from him, lips pursed together. “I guess so,” you shrugged, shining a thankful smile. “Thank you for the help.”

With the whiskey in hand, you walked up to Heeseung, whose face lit up like a Christmas tree at the sight of you.

“Baby, you’re back!” He celebrated, wrapping his arms around the back of your knees and resting his chin on your stomach. “Hi. You took too long.”

As much as he looked adorable, you couldn’t help but take note of his flushed, crimson cheeks and bleary eyes. He was tipsy when you left him, not fully drunk.

“Sorry. Was thinking ‘bout what I’d get you.” You mumbled, caressing his hair with your free hand while scanning for any other drinks he might’ve had. That was when your eyes fell on Sunghoon, who had a shit-eating smirk on his face and a bottle of Bacardi in his hold.

“I didn’t do a thing. He was the one who wanted it.” Sunghoon pointed to your clueless boyfriend, who was too busy squeezing your thighs to relax.

You scoffed, eyes narrowed at him. “I’ll kill you.”

Heeseung lightly tugged at your wrist for your attention, “Can you give me the drink now?" He requested softly, to which you nodded.

“Of course,” you passed him the cup, anxiously watching his wobbly hands pick it up, “but take small sips.”

He didn’t register your words, taking a large gulp and eliciting a gasp from you, who got the glass back. The liquid was bitter in his mouth, and as he swallowed it, he felt the pit of his stomach burn up. “Fuck...” Heeseung hissed, nose scrunched up.

“What are you even doing?” You scolded with no malice behind it, focusing on his disoriented reaction. With a huff, you smiled when he reached for the cup again, pawing at your clothes.

“I wanna have more. Didn’t taste it...” He complained, burying his face on your abdomen and pressing short kisses to it.

“It’s because you shouldn’t down it all. You’re supposed to let it melt in your mouth.” Cupping his jaw firmly, you brought the drink to his face, and better would it have been if you didn’t.

Heeseung’s plush lips wrapped around the rim of the glass, innocent doe eyes gazing unwaveringly up at you. The alcoholic liquid sat on his tongue, and despite the burn that still didn’t taste like anything, he waited before gulping it down. He pulled back and wiped his chin with the back of his hand, mouth parted.

It took everything in you to not kiss him that moment.

“That’s it. Tastes nice?” You asked, breathless, giving him the lightest pat on his swollen cheek.

It wasn’t what I expected, he wanted to say. Instead, he just shook his head yes.

“Are you proud of me?” A silly grin showed up on his face, desperate for your approval, his current expression absurdly different from the look he had given you a second prior. “I’m really good at taking alcohol, yeah?”

His words made you laugh, and you put the drink away to sit next to him. He took your hands in his as soon as you got closer. “Of course. It’s like you didn’t even get tipsy after having the lightest cocktail.”

Pouting at your playful jest, Heeseung gave you a quick peck on the nose, already giggling like a fool at his own action, “Mm... I’m still sober, though.”

You indulged him on his lie, “Sure you are.”

“It’s true!”

“Sure it is.”

𔓕　LETTERS FROM REi ━━ drunk hee will always be my fav

2024 © SOOV

[aomiiine]

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ───── 𝑃𝐼𝑁𝐾 𝑅𝐼𝐵𝐵𝑂𝑁, where you insist on tying up a pink ribbon around one of their biceps. includes: zayne, gojo, rindou.

warning(s) -> pure fluff w sum suggestive moments. sfw. fem!reader, established relationship, incredibly domestic shit, short scenarios, not proofread, wc is 1.8k.

𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 : urm. ik im suppose to be working on my other wips but i need sum fluff rn

ZAYNE

Your oh-so-busy boyfriend finally took a day off, and you were determined to make the most of it. So you started the satisfying morning by sleeping in till past 10, something either of you rarely done because of work.

You didn’t spare Zayne from the stupid questions you’ve kept stacked in your mind, your curiosity ranging from medical facts to his daily routine during weekends before you got together. The poor surgeon sighed more than he did for an entire day of work but answered nonetheless.

It was all bearable for Zayne until you finished breakfast—or brunch, whatever it was you had. The patters of feet coming from your shared bedroom while Zayne was sat on the couch in the living room was enough for him to pinch the bridge between his brows, bracing for an incoming request that would no doubt involve some point of ridiculousness.

“What is this time?” He queried tentatively, turning his head over his side to see you approaching him, the grin on your face unmistakable. “And what is it you’re holding?”

“A ribbon,” you answered with a hum that had way too much enthusiasm for his liking (affectionately).

“C’mon, it’s a harmless pink ribbon! No need to frown and glare at it,” you chuckled, the furrow of his brows and narrow of his eyes all too familiar.

“I’m not glaring at the ribbon, the ribbon is innocent. I’m glaring at your hands, to be exact. They’re the ones most prone to mischief,” he pointed out, eyes trailing over you as you eventually stood ahead of him. His head tilted up to look at your face, an attempt to gauge your intentions with the pink ribbon you held.

“You’re overanalysing it,” you rolled your eyes, reaching out a hand to gently grab one of his arms, holding it up. “Stay still,” you giggled, catching his full attention all of the sudden, hazel green eyes darting between your face and your working hands.

“There! All done,” he heard you exclaim bubbly, his gaze zeroing in to the neat bow you’ve made with the pink ribbon around his bicep.

“Tell me why exactly you’ve decided to do this? Decoration?” He queried, glancing up at your standing figure in front of him with pure curiosity—and perhaps a hint of sarcasm.

“Well, yes. I suppose I am decorating you since you lack colour,” you retorted, folding your arms against your chest, looking proud at your handiwork.

“I believe I have a good colour palette for furniture and clothes, thank you very much,” he scoffed, not a sense of malice lacing his words despite his mask of displeasure.

“So you find this cute?” Zayne muttered, looking over to his now free arm, lifting it up straight and tugging on the sleeve of his shirt to expose the ribbon you’ve tied around him more. And while he did so, he unintentionally flexed his muscles, giving you a free exhibit of the your boyfriend, reminding you he works out despite spending most of his time in the hospital.

Amidst your staring, he had turned his head over to you, tilting his head at your fixation on his arm.

GOJO

One of the rare days where Gojo takes a day off for you, he tends to prefer spending it lazying around with you at home rather than going out. One of the reason? He’s a lazy fuck.

Well that’s one of them, but the other reason is he loves the simplicity of merely being there with you, holding you, maybe even getting to know parts of you that he didn’t—though, he insists that’s impossible.

Rather than shrugging him off and giving him the cold shoulder at his clinginess, you insist on matching his behaviour, except occasional exchanges of wit between you were inevitable.

“What’s that, princess? Trynna copy my blindfold look with a pink ribbon?” He drawled with a grin, awfully interested on your busy self even with the movie he picked playing on TV. The soft pink fabric around your fingers entranced him in a sense, his jewel eyes alternating between your concentrated face and the fiddles you made with the ribbon.

“No, I’m not. Your blindfold doesn’t even look half as good as this ribbon,” you remarked, words turning to a mumble halfway with how focused you got on fiddling with the ribbon. His arm around your shoulder squeezed you slightly, tucking you in close before hooking his arm around your neck instead.

“Piss off. You know I look good in anything,” Gojo chuckled, musing with confidence by your ear.

“What do you plan on doing with it anyway? Want me to tie you up with it?” He suggested, tone suspiciously innocent. You rolled your eyes, knowing damn well it was a ruse to lead you to something else. So you elbowed his chest gently, earning a dramatic groan from the smirking man.

“Like hell am I letting you do that. Instead, why don’t I tie it on you instead?” You huffed, the sudden idea going to your head and making you turn over to him more. His white lashes fluttered at you as he blinked, looking somewhat dumbfounded at your threat.

“Hey, hey, what’re you doin’ now? Weak thing like that isn’t gonna be able to restrain me, sweetheart,” he leaned away when you shifted to face him better, hand capturing his arm. You couldn’t help but scoff at his reaction, panicking away from you the second he saw that sly gleam in your eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, idiot,” you grumbled, wrapping the ribbon around his upper arm, compression shirt giving you a clear outline of his biceps.

“Not like you can anyway,” he mumbled underneath his breath like you wouldn’t hear him. However, you did, giving him another light yet firm slap to his arm and ripping one more of his exaggerated ows.

“This one of those trends on social media or something? Usually, I’d be the one wrapping you up like a pretty little gift,” he asked, looking over at you curiously as you tied a bow from the pink ribbon around his still arm. “Yeah, so what if it is?” you challenged, not bothering to pull your focus away from the bow you were tying on him still. And fuck, did you seem like the most adorable thing in the world to him.

“Just asking, baby,” he laughed softly, finding your retort cute rather than hurtful. He knew better than to take any of your little fits seriously anyway.

“There,” you muttered, releasing his arm with a satisfied look since the bow came out perfectly. Gojo on the other hand moved his arm around as if you’ve added prosthetics to his body instead, earning a lighthearted glare from you.

“So what? I just flex my muscles around to tighten it up?” He queried with a quirked brow, lifting his arm up and flexing his muscles on command, the delicate ribbon visibly constricting his biceps when he did so. You couldn’t help but stare and wonder. Darn this man for doing the most attractive things so obliviously.

RINDOU

Rindou had finally graced your pleas to take a day off from work for the two of you. And while you thought it would be a great day for dates and all, you ended up sleeping in with him, unable to truly get up from the comfort of the bed and his warmth. You two mumbled in bed together for a while, half asleep and day dreaming until he dragged out of bed for breakfast.

If it was one thing you noticed about his routines at home without work bugging him, it was that he loved walking around shirtless. It didn’t matter the time of the day, he would be wearing some pair of sweatpants without his torso bare, tattoos on his body on full display. You asked him about it but got nothing more than a simple, ‘why? ‘M I distracting you, baby?’ Which you merely replied with a glare.

Cooking up some eggs and bacon for yourself and his gluttonous self, you were interrupted by a pair of firm big arms encircling your waist from behind.

“What?” you asked with a bit of a groan, hand holding the pan a bit tighter now.

“Hey, don’t take out that morning attitude on me,” he grumbled, chin resting on the top of your head. His brows furrowed slightly, eyes focusing on the movement of your hands that cooked the food.

“Not my fault you decided to burn my eyes by walking around the house naked,” you refuted, voice slightly low from dehydration.

“Half naked,” he corrected, his own morning voice hoarse and gravelly to your ears, a sound you welcomed. “Besides, don’t you like seeing my body? Thought you liked my muscles,” he added, arms held around your stomach squeezing slightly to emphasise his point of ‘muscles’. You scoff in response.

“Yeah, but maybe I don’t like being reminded how hot my boyfriend is so early in the morning,” you reasoned, hand closing the stove and putting the pan down safely to finally turn around and face him, his arms loosening.

“Hmm.. Can’t relate, baby. I like being reminded how sexy my girl is this early. Makes me appreciate you more,” he grinned, slightly downturned violet eyes staring at you with a gleam of triumph at the sight of your slightly flustered expression.

“Now you’re trying to make me feel bad,” you grunted, earning yourself a deep laugh from Rindou.

You pushed past him to walk over to the kitchen counter but one of his arms lingered on you, not quite letting you go. Your eyes landed on a lone strand of pink ribbon laying the countertop, recalling the chocolate gift he gave you last night that was wrapped in ribbons

“Forgot to throw this out huh?” You muttered, picking it up and twirling it around your fingers playfully. Rindou standing behind you still, didn’t say much of a word, opting to stay quiet for a moment to observe you.

What he didn’t expect was for you to turn around and grab ahold of his arm suddenly. But he didn’t protest or move, merely staring at your movements and waiting to see what bright idea you could’ve possibly had now.

“A bow? Really?” He chuckled, gaze fixated at the way you swiftly tied the thin pink fabric around his upper arm. “Some cool idea you have on making me a gift, princess,” he exhaled a breathy laugh, looking at his bicep once you released him.

“Shut up. Be thankful I didn’t it tie it on your hair and snap a pic to send to Ran instead,” you huffed, folding your arms at his sarcastic remark.

“Okay, fuck, I take it back,” he quickly conceded, not wanting to anger you even further now you’ve threatened him with Ran’s name.

[pucksandpower]

Achilles Come Down

Charles Leclerc x soft dom!Reader

Summary: sometimes you have to take control to get Charles out of his own head

Warnings: 18+ content

Based on this request with some little hints here and there that the reader is Charles’ race engineer (inspired by him getting a new race engineer all of a sudden in real life)

The garage is eerily quiet as you make your way towards Charles’ driver’s room, the usual buzz of activity muted in the wake of his DNF. His familiar red race suit is marred by streaks of oil and rubber, a physical reminder of the mechanical failure that ended his race prematurely.

Charles stalks ahead of you, his body taut with frustration. You can practically see the negative thoughts racing through his mind, the self-recrimination and second-guessing he’s so prone to despite the circumstances being completely out of his control.

“Charles, wait up,” you call out, struggling to match his clipped pace. He pauses with his hand on the door handle, jaw clenched.

“What is there to say, Y/N? My race is over before it could even properly begin.” The defeat in his voice cuts you deeply.

“This wasn’t your fault,” you insist, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “A rear brake malfunction is out of your hands.”

He shrugs you off, throat bobbing with repressed emotion. “I’m the one behind the wheel. I should have sensed something was wrong, made adjustments ...”

“You can’t control every little thing on that car, no matter how talented you are,” you interrupt firmly. “Sometimes factors outside your control are going to screw things up. Dwelling on it won’t change that.”

Charles lets out a harsh exhale, raking frustrated fingers through his sweat-dampened curls. “Easy for you to say. It’s not your championship hopes slipping away with every botched race.”

You resist the urge to snap back, knowing his irritability stems from disappointment rather than any real malice towards you. Taking a calming breath, you change tacks.

“Okay, let’s go inside and get you out of that suit at least,” you suggest in a gentler tone. “We can debrief the data after you’ve had a chance to reset.”

Charles hesitates, chewing on his full lower lip in an unconscious gesture of indecision. You frame his face with your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“Trust me, baby. Let me take care of you for once.”

The rigidity finally seeps from his stance as he gives a jerky nod of acquiescence. You push open the door and usher him inside, the familiar smells of his favorite Dior cologne and heat-weathered leather enveloping you both.

Once the door clicks shut, blocking out the distractions of the paddock, you move in close to begin unzipping Charles’ kinetic race suit. He stands stiffly as you peel away each layer until he’s stripped down to just his snug fireproof undershirt and shorts.

Running soothing hands over his tense shoulders and neck, you knead at the knots of muscles corded there. A low exhale shudders from Charles’ lips as some of the pent-up stress bleeds out of his frame.

“That’s it, let it all go,” you murmur. “Your only job now is to relax and let me take over for once.”

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles, the barest ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You circle around to face him again, hands roaming over the lean muscles of his chest and abs through the thin fabric. Leaning in, you capture his lips in a deep, probing kiss, slanting your mouth over his again and again until his tension fully dissolves and he melts into your touch.

“Better?” You ask with a quirked brow as you finally pull back, taking in his dazed expression.

“Getting there,” Charles replies, pupils already blown wide with arousal. He surges forward to recapture your lips hungrily.

You allow him to control the heated kiss for a few indulgent moments before taking charge once more, pushing firmly against his chest until the backs of his thighs hit the edge of the sleek, ultra-modern sofa. He flops back with a breathless chuckle as you crawl over him, straddling his waist and rocking your hips against his in a pointed grind.

“Just relax and let me handle this,” you rasp against the hinge of his jaw, relishing the full-body shudder that wracks his frame.

Your hands deftly slip beneath the hem of his undershirt, pushing it up and over his head to expose his toned upper body before latching your lips to the hollow of his throat. Charles tips his head back in blissful surrender as you lavish hot, openmouthed kisses along the thunderous pulse point and down the sculpted grooves of his chest.

His hands struggle to find purchase as your mouth trails lower still, tracing nonsensical patterns through the trial of hair. Every swirl of your tongue is deliberate, thorough, a reminder to him to stay grounded in the present moment, focused solely on the exquisite sensations you’re lavishing upon his body.

You pause with your face hovering inches above the waistband of his shorts, reveling in the pure want burning in Charles’ lust-darkened gaze as he watches you through his veil of tousled chestnut curls. Hooking your fingers into the stretchy material, you ease it down, never breaking that heated eye contact.

Charles is already achingly hard, hips twitching upwards in search of some kind of delicious friction. You blow a teasing stream of air over his length, relishing the way he squirms and lets out a guttural moan. Only then do you take him fully into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the velvety crown before sinking down in one smooth glide.

“F-Fuck ...” Charles’ head thrashes against the armrest as his hands scrabble uselessly at the supple leather, trying and failing to find purchase. You hum in satisfaction around your mouthful, the vibrations jolting through him with dizzying intensity.

Knowing he’s dangerously close already, you ease off with one last lingering lick. Charles whines in protest, hips canting upwards to chase that incredible heat and suction. But rather than continuing with your talented mouth, you throw one lean leg over his body to straddle his hips once more.

Charles swallows hard as you reach behind to unclasp your lacy bra, shrugging it off your shoulders and allowing it to puddle onto the floor. He tracks the motion with rapt attention, fingers twitching with the overwhelming need to touch.

Before he can make a move, you halt him with a stern look and guiding hand wrapped around his wrist. “Nuh-uh, I’m in charge here, remember?”

Charles makes a thin, desperate sound but complies, allowing you to pin both wrists above his head. His chest heaves with each shuddering inhale as he watches you shimmy out of your skin tight jeans with your core hovering just above his straining length.

Then, maintaining that heated eye contact, you sink down unbearably slowly until he’s sheathed fully inside you. Charles’ mouth drops open in a low keen as you begin to move in an unhurried grind, savoring each delicious inch.

“You feel that?” You rasp, leaning down to capture his plush bottom lip between your teeth. “You’re not alone in this, baby. I’ve got you.”

Charles nods frantically, hips jerking upwards in a broken rhythm to chase that incredible friction. You release his wrists in favor of framing his face, anchoring him to this intense connection amid the swirling sensations.

“Don’t think about the race or the championship,” you order in a low murmur. “There’s only you and me, here and now. Got it?”

“Yes ...” Charles moans in affirmation as your pace picks up the tiniest bit, guiding him closer and closer to that blissful edge.

Perspiration sheens over both your bodies, slick skin sliding together in an intoxicating glide. His hands roam hungrily over every inch of you, mapping each sculpted curve and plane like a long-cherished map. You snake one hand between your joined bodies to stroke him in counterpoint to your rolling undulations, determined to shatter him into a million ecstatic pieces.

Charles’ breath grows increasingly ragged, each strangled cry of pleasure driving you higher towards your own shattering peak. “Look at me,” you demand, cupping his stubbled jaw. His glassy emerald eyes lock onto yours obediently. “I’m all that matters right now.”

He shudders beneath you, mouth dropping open in a choked groan as his orgasm slams into him with full force. You bear down harder, chasing your own release to the soundtrack of his gasping whimpers. White-hot pleasure detonates through your nerve endings, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.

Collapsing bonelessly atop him, you nuzzle against the slick hollow of his throat, placing a tender kiss over his pulse as you both struggle to catch your breath. Charles’ arms envelop you, his frame still quivering with aftershocks.

“Better?” You murmur against his salted skin, unable to resist a teasing smirk.

A breathless laugh huffs from his lips. “So much better. I ...” He pauses, seeming to search for the right words. “Thank you, mon ange. For not letting me spiral.”

“Always,” you vow simply, tilting your head to capture his lips in a deep, searing kiss. When you finally break apart, his eyes are warm and clear, no longer clouded by that self-destructive darkness.

A tender smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you brush back the damp chestnut curls from his forehead. In this quiet moment, with his body and soul laid bare before you, you know the roles have switched once more. He’s gone from race driver to simply Charles — your Charles — and you’ll protect that brilliant light within him with everything you have.

“We can debrief the data later,” he murmurs, mirroring your earlier words with a contented grin. “For now, I just want to stay right here with you.”

[vamptizm]

hiii i was wondering if you could do an azzi x reader where reader is super overwhelmed with school and other things but doesn’t want to bother azzi especially after winning the chip and it leads to azzi confronting reader about how she’s acting. some good old angst to fluff action yk

DISTANCE BETWEEN US — azzi fudd

pairing: azzi fudd x fem!reader

warnings: bit of angst. fluff. school stress. lack of self care

word count: 1.9k

note: i hope this kinda lived up to your imagination and expectations

It started with distance.

At first, it was just a few missed texts. Some unanswered calls. A message left on read longer than you meant to. Azzi hadn't pressed. Finals season was brutal, and you knew she understood that. She was proud of you, always had been—admired the way you juggled the labs, the research, the relentless hours as a kinesiology major deeply involved in the athletic department.

But admiration didn't make the silence any easier.

Especially not when she was traveling nonstop, bouncing between New York and Connecticut, her time swallowed up by championship press, interviews, and prepping for her own exams. Yet through it all, she still found time to text. To call. To say she missed you.

And lately, you hadn't given her much to hold on to.

The replies came late, short. The calls? You ignored most of them. Your phone had been off more than it had been on the past couple days—not out of malice, but because you just couldn't deal. You couldn't deal with the guilt of hearing her voice and not being okay. Not being present. Not being able to give her the version of you that she deserved.

Still, the silence hurt her. You knew that much.You just didn't have room to hurt for both of you.

And when your phone had stayed off for almost a full twenty-four hours, you didn't realize how quickly that would push Azzi from worry into action.

She didn't even go home first. As soon as she got back to campus, duffel bag still slung over one shoulder, hoodie damp from the spring chill, she headed straight for your dorm. Her body was tired, but her heart was restless. Every unanswered message clanged around in her chest like an echo she couldn't shut out.

She knocked hard—three quick knocks, followed by two more, just like always.

Nothing.

She waited. Knocked again. Still no answer. That was enough. She tried the door. It gave.

The room was dim. Just your desk lamp was on, casting a pale gold halo over your workspace. The air smelled faintly of cold coffee, the tang of Red Bull, and your shampoo—usually comforting, now tinged with something brittle and stale.

And there you were.

Fast asleep, hunched over your desk in a position so uncomfortable it made her wince just looking at it. One arm crooked awkwardly under your head, the other slack beside your laptop. Your screen was still glowing. A paper sat half-finished, highlighted notes scattered across the desk. Red Bull cans and half-empty café cups surrounded you like little warning signs. You hadn't eaten. Hadn't rested. Hadn't even tried to.

Her heart cracked.

The irritation she'd carried with her—at the silence, at being shut out—drained out of her completely. Guilt rushed in its place, heavy and cold.

She closed the door behind her quietly and made her way toward you. Her knees met the floor as she crouched beside your chair, hands reaching out without hesitation.

She brushed your hair away from your face, careful not to startle you, her fingers feather-light against your skin. Your brow was still furrowed in sleep, jaw clenched like you were still mid-stress dream. You didn't even stir when she touched you.

Azzi leaned in closer, her palm now gently rubbing your back in slow circles.

"Hey," she murmured, soft and low. "Pssst. Baby, wake up."

You didn't.

She tried again, brushing her thumb across your knuckles. Her voice cracked just slightly when she spoke this time. "Come on, sweetheart. It's me. Wake up."

You stirred. A small shift at first. Your shoulder twitched. A soft breath escaped you. Then, slowly, your head lifted, eyes squinting into the low light. You blinked a few times, trying to focus, trying to remember where you even were. Your body felt sore. Your head, foggy.

But then you saw her.

Azzi. Kneeling beside you, eyes tired but full of warmth. Her hoodie was slightly unzipped, hair pulled back messily from a long day, but all you could see was the quiet ache in her gaze. The softness in her expression. The way she looked at you like she hadn't stopped thinking about you for a second.

She gave you a small, tentative smile. But there was a crease in her brow. A quiet question in her eyes.

Then, her voice—gentle, steady, heartbreakingly soft.

"Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

Azzi's hand moved slowly, delicately. Her thumb brushed across your cheek before peeling off a yellow post-it note that had somehow stuck to the side of your face. The moment it was gone, you exhaled—partly from exhaustion, partly from embarrassment—as you forced yourself upright, your back aching from the way you'd been slumped over.

"I'm fine, it's chill. Just dozed off, that's all."

The words came out flat. Not defensive, not angry. Just... hollow. And even though you didn't mean for it to sound like that, the coldness in your tone settled in the air between you like a wall being quietly built.

Azzi didn't move for a second. She just watched you, gaze unreadable, until finally—gently, but firmly—she got up and placed her hand on the arm of your chair, turning it to face her fully. The movement was slow, deliberate, like she was giving you time to resist if you wanted to. But you didn't.

She stepped in between your knees, her body warm and steady, and brought both hands up to cup your face. Her palms were soft against your skin, thumbs resting near your temples, her touch impossibly grounding.

"Hey," she said softly. "Don't do that."

You swallowed hard, trying not to flinch under her touch. But she didn't let go.

"You don't have to act tough and unaffected with me. I've already told you... I'm here for you. No matter how busy I get, no matter if I'm here or not. You don't have to do this alone."

Your throat tightened.

Because she said it so gently. So lovingly. So sincerely. And it made something inside you crack open in a way you didn't know it needed to.

You tried to look away—to avoid the warmth in her gaze, the safety it offered—but her grip stayed firm. Not to force you, but to anchor you. To keep you present.

"Don't look away from me," she whispered, her voice breaking just a little. "It's okay. I promise."

Your bottom lip trembled before you could stop it. You blinked hard, but one tear slipped out anyway, trailing down your cheek before you could catch it.

"This shit is so fucking exhausting," you admitted, the words barely making it past the lump in your throat. "I feel like my body and mind are constantly on survival mode."

The second the words were out, your shoulders dropped. Like releasing them took the last bit of strength you had left. Your voice was hoarse, ragged with the pressure you'd been swallowing down for days—weeks.

Azzi didn't say anything. She didn't try to fill the silence with reassurance or a lecture or a pep talk.

She just stepped closer and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in with the kind of embrace that didn't need explanation. The kind that told you, without words, that it was okay to fall apart here.

You folded into her like you were meant to be there. Buried your face into the softness of her hoodie and let the scent of her and the steady rise and fall of her chest remind you that you weren't alone. That you never were.

Her hand moved up and down your back slowly, patiently.

And in her arms, for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself breathe.

The hug eventually broke, and you sniffled as you wiped away the tears that had stained your cheeks with the sleeve of Azzi's hoodie. Your face felt flushed, still a little raw from everything you hadn't let yourself say until now. Azzi watched you closely, her gaze softening as her thumb brushed the dampness from your face.

She leaned down then, slowly, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. It was a kiss that said more than words ever could—full of tenderness, reassurance, and that unmistakable sense of home. You closed your eyes, letting the kiss last just a little longer than necessary, and for a moment, you forgot about everything except her.

When she pulled away, it was only by the smallest fraction, but the space felt too wide. She didn't move too far, though, still close enough that you could feel the warmth of her body.

"When was the last time you slept or ate?" Azzi asked, her voice cautious, already bracing for your answer.

You hesitated, the weight of the question sinking into your chest. You were torn between lying, pretending you were fine, or finally being honest. You didn't want to worry her, didn't want to burden her, but you also knew there was no point in lying anymore.

"I had a breakfast burrito this morning," you mumbled, the words coming out slower than you intended, "and I guess I've gotten like..." You paused. "A few hours of sleep."

Azzi's brow furrowed. "A few hours today or last night?" she asked again, her voice laced with concern.

You looked away, unable to meet her eyes as your gaze fell to the floor. You didn't want to tell her. But there was no point in hiding it now. With a deep sigh, you answered, "In the last 24 hours."

Azzi's silence wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. Her hand rested gently on your arm as she sighed deeply, the kind of sigh that spoke volumes. She didn't push you. Instead, she gave you a moment before she made her next move.

"Get up," she demanded softly, but her tone left no room for argument.

You didn't argue. It would've been pointless. Azzi's determination was a force of nature, and at that moment, you were too tired to fight it. She gently pulled you up from the chair, her hands firm but tender as she guided you to the bed.

Once there, she pushed you down, her touch gentle yet insistent. Azzi didn't leave your side. She climbed into the bed with you, pulling you close until your head rested on her chest, the familiar sound of her heartbeat grounding you in the moment.

Azzi wrapped her arms around you, the embrace warm and secure. Her presence was a shield, blocking out everything that had been weighing on you.

"We're gonna sleep," she murmured, her voice soft but resolute. "And in the morning, we can study, okay?"

It wasn't so much a suggestion as it was an instruction, and you didn't have the strength to argue. Instead, you sighed deeply, closing your eyes and letting yourself melt into her touch. Her warmth seeped into your skin, and for the first time in days, you felt like you could finally let go.

Azzi could tell you were on the edge of sleep, your breathing slowing, your body relaxing against hers. She pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering there just a moment longer than necessary.

"I love you, sweet girl," she whispered, her voice a soothing balm to your tired soul.

You mumbled into her chest, words barely audible as you drifted closer to sleep, "I love you."

And with that, the exhaustion finally claimed you. You drifted off, your body unwinding in Azzi's arms, the world fading away as the softness of her touch pulled you into a peaceful, uninterrupted sleep.

[mead-iocre]

Christmas Market | Alexia Putellas x Reader

summary: you should've listened to your girlfriend. part of the brat!reader universe.

warnings: just christmas fluff x

wc: 2.6 k words

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Christmas in Barcelona was your favourite time of year. The air was crisp, filled with the sweet scent of roasted chestnuts from street vendors. The city twinkled with holiday lights strung across the narrow streets, casting glows on the cobblestone sidewalks. The soft hum of festive music played from cafés, mingling with the distant laughter of people out to celebrate the holiday. 

You and Alexia stepped out of the grand, ivy-clad restaurant. The clink of champagne glasses and the hum of conversation followed you as you pushed open the door, the cold air of the city enveloping you immediately. 

Dressed in a black velvet body-con mini dress, black lace stockings, and your new pair of christian louboutin heels, you looked good. Looking over at your girlfriend, you bite your bottom lip as you take in the sight of her.

Alexia was wearing the black halter top that you loved on her-- they showed off her lovely shoulders and arms. Her hair was slicked back in a neat ponytail, granting you full access to admire her face the entire evening. 

And you did, much to your lover's embarrassment. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

"You look good, baby" 

Alexia rolled her eyes, but a slight blush coated her cheeks. She playfully glared at you from across the table, shuffling in her seat. She mutters a quiet "stop it.”, but there was no malice in her tone. 

You laugh. She was so easy to rile up and annoy. And unfortunately for her, you enjoyed seeing her grumpy. It was hot.  

Uncrossing your legs, you extend one until they lightly caressed the side of her trousers. Alexia's head snapped up from the menu she was looking at, raising one eyebrow at you.

You ignore it, pointedly looking down at your own menu. 

Your black patent calfskin-covered foot continues it's passage up and up until it just about grazes your lovers lap. 

But the journey was cut short by a hand grabbing your ankle, stilling you completely.

You pout at her from across the table, your freshly applied lipgloss gleaming under the dim overhead flights. You smirk when you notice Alexia's eyes dropping to your bottom lip. As easy as she was to rile up, she was also easy to seduce. 

"Quit it" She mutters, squeezing the foot in her hand. She adjusts in her seat, letting your foot rest more comfortably across her thigh. You shift your foot from her hold slightly, just a little to the left, earning a hard look from her before she moves your foot to rest in a more appropriate place on her lap. “brat”

She clears her throat. "Vale, have you chosen?" 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The Christmas lights upholstered on nearby buildings danced in the soft glow of the evening. The faint sound of a guitar strummed in the distance.

Dinner was delicious. 

But you weren't ready for the night to end just yet. Alexia has been so busy with work lately, preparing for the last stretch of games for the year. Practice has been longer, she's had post-practice meetings to attend, and you've been bored at home with no one to annoy. You wanted to spend as much time with your girlfriend tonight before she inevitably has to go back to focusing on football.

You shift the weight on your feet. Louboutin heels. Classic. Stunning. But at this point, they were starting to feel like a form of slow torture. You had insisted on wearing them tonight, not because they were the most comfortable choice, but because they looked perfect with your lace stockings.

And you certainly did not mind the look of approval from your girlfriend when you slipped them on earlier that night. 

"Shall I order an Uber?" Alexia came up from behind you, reaching into her pocket for her phone, but you stop her. 

"Wait. Let's go to the Christmas Market" 

Her head snaps towards you, an expression of utter disbelief in her face. “The market-- bebe, ya es tarde. It’s late” 

She gestures towards you feet with a flick of her chin. “And you’re wearing heels" 

But you were stubborn. And as soon as you made up your find, it was hard to steer you away from it. 

”Come onnn. It’s not that far." You plead at her. You pull out your phone, typing in "christmas market near me" in google maps. A few options pop up, and the nearest one was a 10 minute walk from the restaurant. "See. It's only a 10 minute walk" 

“Bebe,” An arm clutches your elbow. “you’re wearing your new heels”

"So? I walk in heels all the time”

Alexia groans, massaging her temple. She’s been told most of her life that she was as stubborn as a mule, but she swears you are the most stubborn person she has ever met. 

“Si. Fine. But I don’t want to hear you complaining when your feet hurt because of those heels”

"Fine." You turn away, head down, focused on the google map directions. Your heels clicking sharply as you strut in the direction that the arrow is pointing towards. 

Alexia can only sigh and shake her head, quickly jogging over to catch up with you. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You walked on through the festive streets, the Christmas lights now casting a soft light as you wander through the different stalls. Hand in hand, the air felt even colder against your cheeks.

For a moment, you were far too entranced by all the sights to focus on the pain pulsing from your feet. About 5 minutes into your walk to the Christmas market, you felt the pinching in your feet. For a while you could ignore it.

But now the pain came charging back.

Your jaw was set in that familiar stubborn line, and you were less talkative than usual. Your girlfriend, on the other hand, was happily admiring the market stalls, her eyes scanning all there was to see. There were stalls for handcrafted ornaments, delicate glass figurines, and hand-knitted scarves. 

Ahead, a golden carousel spun gently, its colours vivid against the evening sky. Laughter from children and muted conversations were the only sounds that filled the air. You grabbed the Barcelona captain’s hand and tugged her closer to the carousel, your face lit up with excitement at the thought of being off your feet for a minute or two. “Let’s ride the carousel”

Alexia laughed, shaking her head. But she let you pull her towards the ticket booth for the carousel. “Estar loco— Vale. Let’s go”

You made their way to the carousel, slipping into a pair of loveseat carriage. The lights of the market twinkled around you as the carousel begun to take you for a ride.

The fact that you were temporarily relived of the pain in your feet as you sat beside your lover was a bonus.

As the carousel spun, you shared laughs and smiles, the world outside of your little bubble fading away. It was one of those rare moments in life when everything felt right—the perfect combination of place, time, and heart. 

Alexia took out her phone from her pocket, snapping a few photos of you and then turning the phone so it can capture the both of you. Alexia scooted closer so she can rest her cheek against yours for a photo. She smelled good. A mix of something warm, sweet, and achingly familiar—like a fire burning low, above roasted chestnuts and sticks of sweet vanilla.

“hace frio”

You turn your head to look at her, not hearing her clearly the first time. “hm?”

Alexia puts her phone back into her pocket before she brings her hands up to her mouth. She rubs her palms together, blowing warm air into them, before she brings her hands to your cheeks. She gently holds your face between her palms, her hands providing some much needed warmth from the bite of the cold. “your cheeks are cold, mi amor”

Pretty hazel eyes meet yours. You could see her own cheeks start to turn rosy, but here she was warming yours. 

“My lips are cold too” 

Alexia bites her lower lip, her eyes dropping to your lips. She brings you closer, gently tilting your head. “We wouldn’t want that, huh?”

Soft, plump lips meet yours. The cold was the least of your worries. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

After the carousel, you both decided to wander through the rest of the market. 

You hated to admit it but your feet were really starting to hurt. 

Glancing down at your feet, you wince slightly as another sharp wave of discomfort shot up your legs.

But there was no way you were telling Alexia. She will probably have that annoyingly attractive smirk on her face the entire way home, and the last thing you needed right now was a gloating girlfriend. 

You mask the flash of pain threatening to spill on your face. 

Then, you caught the whiff of the aroma of warm chocolate. You both followed the scent, winding through the market until you reached a little stall tucked between the old stone buildings. It was decorated simply but beautifully—festive red and gold ribbons, a sign that read “Chocolate Caliente con Brandy” in a looping script, and snowflakes delicately painted on the wooden cart.

You approached the stall, where the vendor—a cheerful older man with a wide grin—greeted you. "¡Buenas noches, chicas! Hot chocolate?”

“Si, we’ll take two, por favor" You were hoping the little bit of alcohol would numb the pain swelling in your feet. It felt like your toes were being put through a meat grinder. “I’ll have two shots of Brandy in mine, please” 

You ignore the eyebrow raise Alexia shot you from your peripheral. 

The vendor nodded and got to work, carefully pouring thick, rich chocolate from a large pot, adding a dash of brandy in one mug, before doubling it for yours. He hands over the two steaming mugs. You accepted the cup, the warmth spreading through your hands.

You wished it was your feet that was getting relief though.

You brought it to your lips and took a sip. It was exactly what you needed—silky smooth, indulgently sweet, with just the right amount of kick. You hoped the alcohol would numb the growing pain in your feet. Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you hoped Alexia wouldn’t notice.

You watch from the rim of your mug as your girlfriend tries a bit of the hot chocolate. She takes a sip and beams at you, throwing up an uncharacteristic thumbs up which you laugh at, briefly ignoring the pinching feeling in your feet. 

“Let’s go,” She asks, taking another sip of her hot chocolate as gestures towards the other colourful stalls. “There’s more to see” 

You grit your teeth. The last thing you wanted was to keep in walking even further from the entrance of the market. You were both already so deep inside the market, engulfed in the crowd of market-goers and cosy stalls. The thought of having to walk back on uneven, cobblestone grounds in these heels just to leave made you want to throw up. 

But you were stubborn. 

And you weren’t about to willingly admit that Alexia was right. 

You knew that if she found out that you were in pain, she’ll immediately drag you home. You weren’t ready to let the night end just yet. 

With a deep breath, which you try to mask as naturally as possible, you give her a tight-lipped smile and take one step forward. You could feel the heels digging into the arch of your foot, your toes squished together. 

Ouch. 

Bloody fucking hell. 

You were going to throw these shoes out the window as soon as you got home.

Sipping your hot chocolate, you clench your jaw as you eye the uneven, cobblestone path ahead. As you walked a few paces, trying your hardest to focus on the twinkling Christmas lights, you failed to notice Alexia’s glances at your feet.

Truthfully, she noticed your discomfort earlier on. She had been keeping an eye out and watching your step for you to make sure you don’t trip. 

She knew that you wanted to spend as much time with her before she had to focus on work. While she would’ve loved to see you break first and admit that she was right about your painful heels, she hates seeing you in pain more. 

“I swear, I can see your expression changing from 'wow the lights are so pretty' to 'I’m in fucking pain' every time we stop.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “No, I’m fine,” you said quickly, flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You threw your empty mug of hot chocolate in the bin.

All of a sudden, you feel a hand gently tug you by the crook of your elbow. You wordlessly let her drag you to a spot behind one of the stalls. You were just about to open your mouth and ask her why she dragged you to a secluded spot like a serial killer would, when all of a sudden your girlfriend turns around and crouches down in front of you. 

“Que? What are you doing?” You blinked in surprise.

Alexia smirks, before gesturing at her back. “Piggyback ride,” she said, with the same mischievous grin. "You’ve been too stubborn to tell me, and you probably won’t admit it.”

“Admit what—?” You start but shut your mouth as soon as Alexia gives you a knowing look. Fuck.

“Stubborn girl. C’mom, get on” For a moment, you were speechless, caught off guard by how she could possibly know. You considered playing it off.

But the thought of walking another step in those heels was almost unbearable.

She reached back to grab your hands and help you onto her back. With one swift motion, you were hoisted up effortlessly. You couldn’t help but grin.

Having an athlete girlfriend definitely had it’s perks. 

Your feet, now happily relieved, dangled as Alexia began to walk through the market, the cool night air against your face, the warmth of your lover beneath you (in a different way). 

The Catalan glanced back with a teasing smile. “Better?"

"Much better," you admitted, your voice light and happy. "I think I could get used to this.”

"I knew it," She said with a soft laugh, settling you a little higher on her back, making sure you were comfortable. “I told you those heels would hurt”

“I never said that,” You reply, wrapping your arms tighter around Alexia. You leaned your head against hers, whispering in her ear. “What if I just wanted a piggyback ride” 

“Whatever you say, mi amor”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The crisp air was filled with the scents of roasted chestnuts and pin. The gentle sway of your girlfriend’s movements was unsurprisingly steady. You leaned your head against her shoulder, the warmth of her body almost as comforting as the hot chocolate that you were sipping on earlier.

“You know,” You murmured, glancing up at the twinkling lights above them, “I should wear these heels more often.”

Alexia paused in her stride, turning her head to look at you. She had that wrinkle between her eyebrows that you so loved. “What— so you can endure the pain again?”

“No,” You chide softly, snugging your face into the crook of her neck. The soft knit of her coat hung loosely on her frame, exposing just enough of her neck to tempt you closer. You press a kiss to the skin where her neck meets her collarbone.

“So you can piggyback me more often”

She laughs at that, throwing her head back and all. Her hand gently stroked your leg. “I’ll give you a piggyback ride anytime, bebe. As long as you’re nice to me” 

You tickle her neck in response.

Soon you pass a stall selling charming hand-carved wooden reindeers. People were milling around, laughing and enjoying the festive atmosphere. 

Leaning down to whisper in her ear, ”You’re sure you’re not getting tired? You’ve been carrying me for a while now.”

Your lover raised an eyebrow, the playful glint in her hazel eyes unmistakable. “What, you think I can’t handle a few pounds of gorgeous woman?”

“Well you have been slacking on the pitch lately— ow” A pinch to your ass. 

Alexia adjusted her hold on you, and started walking towards the exit gates of the market. 

“Shut up. Or else I will drop you, brat” 

happy new year, my loves!

thank you for being one of the best parts of my 2024 x

read more brat!reader stories here

・❥・- kisses, butter

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Gackt - Vanilla 1999

Gackt is a Japanese singer-songwriter, musician, record producer and actor. He has been active since 1993, first as the frontman of the short-lived independent band Cains:Feel, and in 1995-1998 the visual kei rockband Malice Mizer, before starting his solo career in 1999. He has released nine studio albums and, with forty-eight singles released, holds the male soloist record for most top ten consecutive singles in Japanese music history. Besides being established in the modern entertainment industry and a pop icon, Gackt's music has been used as theme songs for video games, video game films, anime series/films, and television series. In addition to his music career, Gackt has acted and voice acted, including characters inspired by him in video games like Bujingai and Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII. He also provided the voice samples for the Vocaloid software Gackpoid.

Gackt released his second single "Vanilla", from his first full-length studio album Mars (2000), on August 11, 1999. "Vanilla" is one of his most popular and commercially successful songs. It peaked at number four on the Oricon Singles Chart and charted for ten weeks. With 248,360 copies sold, it was the 89th best-selling single of the year, and it was certified Gold by RIAJ. The single was later re-released in 2002. It charted for six weeks, reaching number twelve. "Vanilla" is a favourite among fans, particularly because of a live performance from Gackt's Mars tour, which contained a large amount of fanservice with Masa, his guitarist at the time.

"Vanilla" received a total of 72,5% yes votes!

[wannaeatramyeon]

Ryuhei Kuroda x Reader: Imaginary

G/N. Some fluff cos I miss him too. Masterlists

Everyone has heard about you in Workers.

At first, they had thought it was just the delusional ramblings of their executive, Ryuhei Kuroda.

Finally driven mad after Mitsuki's absence and making up tall tales about a mysterious new person to take the edge off the heartache.

You're the cutest, the prettiest, the smartest he would gush to anyone within earshot. You had a smile that could light up the darkest corner and a warmth that could thaw the coldest person.

Supposedly.

Kenta has had the misfortune to hear all about this. And Mandeok. And Yuseong. And Eugene.

Your name has been crowbarred into conversations that really have nothing to do with you. Into meetings and conferences and awkward journeys in the car that no matter how many times Ryuhei is asked to shut up, he will still find a way to bring you up.

Most of it should have been easy to ignore. His friends and colleagues figured these made up stories would soon fade away.

Then the delusion worsened.

Ryuhei's phone wallpaper was changed to a picture of the two of you. The sun's glare was a bit too full to make out all your features, filter a bit too strong, and well-

It all seemed a bit too fake. Whether with the power of Photoshop or AI was anyone's guess.

The lower level workers nodded and smiled politely whenever Ryuhei showed them that picture of you. All the senior team just ignored him.

And it was sorta easy to ignore. Except the number of pictures grew and grew.

Until it becomes obvious that you are real or Ryuhei is spending a psychotic amount of time creating fake couple pics. The evidence that you are not the result of his imagination working overtime is beginning to look pretty indisputable, yet no-one truly, one hundred percent, ruled out the latter.

"Very good," Eugene comments, not even looking and pushing Ryuhei's phone away when it is thrust in his face.

Ryuhei beams. "Thanks!"

.

.

The truth startles everyone one evening.

As the Workers employees finish for their day, making their way out of the building and starting their commute home, they spot you waiting in the reception area.

How could they not recognise you? Ryuhei has been showing your face around constantly.

You... You are so much sweeter than Ryuhei is used to. None of the edge or malice that Mitsuki had. One look at you and it's obvious.

No air of manipulation or wrong-doing. Definitely not a likely candidate to drug a man and erase his memories.

Someone normal, without the baggage that comes with their sort of lifestyle.

And maybe with you and Ryuhei, opposites attract.

Eugene's eyes flicker towards you as he walks past. Mandeok, flanking his left, manages to control his jaw from dropping and Yuseong, on the right, shrugs.

Kenta arrives a couple minutes later and double takes. Confusion clouds his features. He stares for a beat too long to be considered polite then also leaves.

You don't notice Kenta or any of the odd looks diverted your way. Your eyes are glued to your phone, soft smile on your face as a series of texts and selfies from Ryuhei come through:

😣😭

Soooorry 😭😭

Just finishing work

*Photo of Ryuhei on the verge of tears in an empty office and a laptop glares behind him*

I hate that you have to wait for me

I hate not seeing you

I hate Eugene

I'll kill him 🤬

Stupid bastard

You're the best

🥰🥰

Thank you for waiting for me ❤️❤️

*Photo of Ryuhei giving you fingers heart and a kissy face*

You text back, short and sweet:

I'll always wait for you

Not even five minutes later, a blur of blonde hair and muscles falls into your lap and wraps you tightly in his arms.

"Fuck work," Ryuhei snarls before turning to you with a toothy grin.

All previous venom is already forgotten as he smothers your face with kisses.

[yandere-sins]

OMFG I absolutely LOVE your writing and the overall creepyness of it💕😩 May I request a yandere childe with a crybaby s/o who Gets scared way too easily? Ik this might be basic but I really wanted to interact with you 💗🥹

Aah, thank you so much, you're so sweet! Sorry it took me so long, but thank you for requesting and interacting with me, I appreciate it! I gave the reader a good reason to be scared this time, hope that is okay! ♥

Extra Warning for Murder, Blood Mention

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"Shh, babe, what's wrong? You don't have to worry about them anymore."

A calloused hand caressed your cheek, the other arm wrapping around your body as Childe drew you close to him. You were shivering, sobbing in his embrace. Still, he didn't seem to mind at all, a gentle smile on his face as he cradled you, having had more than enough practice with comforting his siblings to know how to comfort you. With the weight of his head on top of yours, you were nestled perfectly in the crook of his neck, his hand wandering back to brush down your hair while the one at the small of your back rubbed its thumb up and down. It was a perfect hug for a perfect darling, as Childe liked to call you. But there was one thing off about it.

The stench.

The squishy, wet feeling smeared all over your cheek and soaked into your clothes, together with the biting, iron smell of blood that stuck to him. Or perhaps it came from the corpses that lay behind his body, shielding the view. Or maybe you were only imagining it. It was hard to believe that you had just watched people die, their deaths caused by this almost stranger's hands. These people were your friends, and yet you couldn't believe it was real.

"I-I'm scared," you stammered, barely able to get the sound out of your throat. "They- They're d-dead."

"Oh, that's true," Childe replied, his voice full of pity and gentle reassurance. As if it hadn't been him who killed them. As if it was a coincidence, you stumbled over the bodies when, really, your friends had been laughing and talking next to you just mere seconds ago before Childe struck them down out of cold-blooded malice.

More tears dripped down your cheeks, countless of them. You were in too much shock to scream and run, but the flow of tears seemed endless as regret, guilt, and horror mixed. You felt nauseated, and yet you couldn't throw up, couldn't do anything. Frozen in place, you listened to the rapidly beating heart of the monster comforting you, feeling Childe take a deep breath, letting it out with a content sigh.

Whatever he was feeling, he seemed... proud of it.

You whimpered miserably as he pressed you tighter against his chest, swaying you side to side before pulling away a few inches. Not enough to let go of you, just so much that he could look into your eyes. Instead of pupils, there was only endless darkness, the moonlight dimly reflected in them, causing swirls of infatuation in the madness that was his gaze on you. Even with barely any light, you could see your own scared reflection. The blood stain on your cheek, the shock etched in every inch of your features.

"You need to keep it together, babe," Child whispered, the same broad, boyish grin on his lips that he had the first time you met him. Where you still thought he was a good guy, helping you carry some groceries home and inviting you to see the festival with him. You had to tell him "no" back then, since you already made plans with your friends. But now, they were no more, and he remained. Only now, that grin was nothing short of psychotic, standing in stark contrast to his eyes so devoid of emotions and the gore on his clothes.

"The guards will be here soon. You wouldn't want them to find you covered in the blood of those people, would you? They might think you did it."

Humiliating as it was, you could see your features grow desperate as a sob escaped you, your eyes crinkling as more tears fell. Childe hushed you again, pressing his lips to your forehead and kissing it over and over as he told you everything would be alright. That he wouldn't let anyone take you or take the blame for him. You could only listen half-heartedly as your feelings threatened to take over your whole body, controlling it and cementing you in place.

It had always been this way for you; the tears were your lifelong friend. Crying was the reaction your body knew best, whether in good or bad situations, and there wasn't much you could do. As a child, you had been mocked for being a crybaby, and as an adult, you were pitied for not having better control over your emotions. Fear had been your constant companion. Whether it was about making a mistake or not feeling like you were good enough to finish a task. You soon began fearing your own incapability, but no one—sometimes not even you—understood that this fear was a force to be reckoned with, one you were completely helpless against.

Unless there was another person stronger than it.

"Aaand up!" Childe proclaimed, having stood up and gripped your hands in the time you spiraled into anxiety and desperation, the overwhelming guilt not helping. But suddenly, you were on your feet despite the tears still falling. Even though you didn't know how to move or act. First, he had comforted you for the crime he committed, and now he did what you had never managed before—pull you out of the trance of your fears.

"Let's go!" he announced chipperly, a slippery, bloody hand gripping yours so tight that it hurt. Jerking you forward, you could only watch Childe's back as he began to run, laughing carefreely as if the death of your friends didn't bother him. As if he was free, unbound by laws and those feelings, you felt so strongly.

Only when you looked down did you notice your own feet moving—rapidly, swiftly. You didn't need to look up as Childe led you through the labyrinth of people who were so occupied with the Lantern Rite in Liyue Harbor that they didn't notice the two blood-soaked individuals passing through.

Breathing was hard, moving was straining, and his grip on you was relentlessly painful. Yet, neither of you stopped until you were already partway up on a mountain outside the harbor, Childe panting just like you, trying to catch his breath. He collapsed with a groan on the dirty trail up the mountain, and with your hand still in his grasp, he pulled you down with him.

It should have hurt when your body was forced to give out, but you landed cushioned in his chest and on his lap. The vibrations of his laugh against your skin felt weird, your senses not yet having returned fully. Lifting your head, you saw the countless lanterns rise to the sky, illuminating it beautifully with the people's memories of those they lost—and you should have been there, lightning lanterns for your friends.

"There we go," Childe muttered, catching your attention as he wiped over your cheek, sticky skin against more sticky skin. Only now did you realize that your tears had dried up, and you looked at the monster that had both made you cry and took care to run them dry—literally.

"You're a pretty crier," Childe sighed, the glow of the lanterns returning some life to the blue in his eyes. Or perhaps the sight before him returned his emotions to him, making him almost look normal despite the red stains. "But I like you better when you're happy. One of us has to."

Leaning his head on your shoulder, Childe reached for your hand, giving it another tight squeeze. Above you, the night sky was filled with beautiful lights, the view even better than from the harbor itself, but you couldn't forget even a second of what had happened that day. That you weren't enjoying this view with your friends, but with some murderer you barely knew, who had pulled you out of the sadness in your heart, only to leave it empty, no feelings able to fill it.

"I'll keep you happy," Childe promised, a faint blush on his cheeks that reached up his ears. "Everything will be the way you want, so you don't have to cry anymore."

Only then did you realize what it truly meant to be afraid, sitting on the lap of someone who thought manipulating the world to his liking would make you happy. Someone who didn't bat an eye before killing an innocent soul. Someone determined to make you feel as empty as he was, just to keep you by his side.

And when Childe looked up grinning, you managed to wipe the smile right off his face, a tear dropping down your cheek.