#yet another birthday by the sea

[greenhousethree]

twenty-two

That year, the seventh month dies on a Wednesday and they leave town.

for dearest @turanga4, if a little belated. thank you for being so wonderfully you.

preview below the cut, full piece on AO3:

It has them both feeling like kids again, like sneaking out— stuffing his rucksack with shorts and sun cream after work in the dead of night, rolling the top to force it closed around a broken drawstring. By the time he’s shouldering the bag she checks her watch and it’s gone midnight. Twelve minutes into the thirty-first.

She doesn’t acknowledge it, but now he’s looking at her with his brow furrowed and a question forming on his mouth. She kisses it away, sweet and nutty from leftover Thai. Takes his hand from her hip, locks the flat behind them. She’s thinking they just might Apparate somewhere way out west this time— Charlie says California’s beautiful— they could nudge right up to where yesterday’s only half gone, buy him another day before he’s older than his parents ever got to be.

But they won’t. 

He leads the way down the steps and around the corner. There’s hardly a breeze, but the night is cool on the back of her neck as the street slumbers under orange lamplight. A block away, back doors of pubs are clanging open for closing staff, bin bags thrown in the skips, keys and change jangling en route to bus stops. The light over the mouth of their usual alleyway is burnt out, so they slip into the dark.

He’s looking at her now, tugging her close till she can smell the soap and linen from his shower, something a little richer in the crook of his neck like the cologne on his top shelf. He’s motionless, concentrating— it’s always like this for a second before Apparating so far. Last week for a laugh she offered to book a Portkey this time instead, something about him getting on in years. Earned herself a spatter of marinara flicked from a spoon.

“I can do it,” she offers now. She’s already picturing cobblestones and stucco and a blue door.

“S’fine,” he murmurs into her hair.

He twists, and for a long moment they’re somewhere between here and there.

[jaylaxies]

TIDES AND TEMPTATION

PAIRING: siren!sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, fluff, angst, mentions of kidnapping, pirates, war, blood, sirens and mer-people, mentions of nicknames, cunnilingus, breeding, unprotected sex, underwater kingdom.

WC: 5.2k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: happiest birthday to my love @celeste-hoon this one’s for youu <3 also hihi, angels! we’ve finally reached the last fic for this year’s kinktober! i hope you guys will like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

✎ kinktober masterlist

The sound of waves crashing against one another, the sudden buzz of urgent chatter and running, and the burn of ropes digging into the flesh of your wrists woke you up from your uncomfortable slumber of unconsciousness. 

It was bright, albeit the lack of sunlight as the clouds covered the sky. You blinked once, and twice before realizing exactly where you were, your mind reeling back to what had happened over the past one day—or more. You weren’t aware of how long you had been knocked out for. 

You remember going out with your friends at the sea shore, your peace interrupted by the sudden screams, the pain following soon after you saw the group of pirates trying to capture everyone in the vicinity, you weren’t an exception. 

Your cries were ignored. Fighting back was of no use as they easily took control, using the rope to tie you up as they carried you into the massive blue coloured ship, your body too tired to keep up, falling limp till you reached here. 

You were on the deck, tied up with a lot more people who were just as panicked if not more, yet you couldn’t spot any of your friends. The pirates were in a rush, their swords out and a sweet melody lingering in the air despite the bloodshed filled atmosphere. 

You cried out, not sure as to who the pirates were fighting, but it seemed as if everyone was suddenly in a trance, which kept on breaking and emerging again as they attacked the other force. 

Suddenly, a guy rushed to where you were tied up, cutting your ropes and pulling you up as you struggled against his grip, tears flowing down your cheeks with the chaos around you, no energy left in you. 

The ship wasn’t in control anymore, the waves overpowered the balance, the sweet melody in the background loud enough to put you in a trance, your eyes shifting from the blue of the water to the sea cave which shone bright, embedded with the prettiest set of stones you had ever seen, along with the creatures you didn’t know existed till date. 

You weren’t sure what you felt as the ship flipped completely, the screams muffled as you came in contact with the water, your eyes closing as you failed to try to swim, the coldness of water making it harder. 

However, you were pulled to the side by someone, your eyes barely open to take in the sight of what looked like a tail, its scales mixed with a palette of blues, dark greens, slightest shades of purple and pink merging together to form a luminescent look. 

Your eyes closed shut yet again, and the creature took you deep inside the siren caverns, helping you up on the flat surface of the emerald rock, looking at you with dark, curious eyes. 

You were far from the water where the bloodshed had taken place, the pirate crew along with the prisoners long gone, devoured by the mer-people, who once looked like the prettiest entities on earth, now seemed to be no less than demons with their claws out, sharp canines on display as they munched on their new food source. 

But not the siren who was with you. 

He looked ethereal with the white glow around which illuminated his figure, one strand of his dark hair braided intricately, tiny flowers adorning them as he looked down at your unconscious figure with a slight tilt of his head, holding himself up on the rock, letting his tail rest in the water. 

Your wet dress was now clinging to your body, beads of sand on your skin and your breathing uneven, eyes threatening to open again with distress. 

He didn’t move when you opened your eyes, which were full of hurt and exhaustion, you couldn’t scream in fear. Instead, you found yourself staring back at him just as curiously, taking in the pretty moles scattered all over his body, his soft glistening pink lips with fangs peeking out and resting on them. You took notice of the dainty jewelry he had adorned, from his necklace to his ear cuffs, from his arm cuff which barely contained his muscles to the gold chain he had around his slender waist, you observed it all. 

He was the prettiest creature you had ever come across. 

He wondered why he was so fascinated when he was supposed to hate your kind, the kind which destroyed his kingdom. 

But not you. You looked lost, scared, as if the humans didn’t show mercy to their own kinds too, he was intrigued, his heart beating faster taking in the soft glow the carven stones reflected upon you. 

“Let me go,” your voice came out breathless, body shaking with the cool air around you, caressing your soaked body. 

His expression didn’t change, however you could see a glimpse of amusement in his eyes at your plea. 

He took a hold of your chin, sensing your fear heightening with his move, “what’s your name?” He asked, voice smooth as if his siren tone was trying to comply you to answer him. 

Your voice came out in a whisper as you told him your name, which he repeated after you to get the pronunciation right and you suddenly felt as if your name was the prettiest thing you’d ever heard. 

The small moment was ruined the second other sirens came swimming into the cavern, hissing as they saw you but they stopped the second they noticed another siren with you. 

“Fuck! Let go of me,” you exasperated, not wanting to become food for the bloodthirsty creatures. 

His gaze was stoic all of a sudden as he addressed them, paying your words zero attention, no traces of kindness as his loud voice boomed in the area, “touch her and you die,” he warned everyone, the fear evident in their eyes as they bowed down, swimming back into the depths of the ocean. 

“How?” You breathed out, and he turned to look your way again, cupping your cheek, sudden warmth blooming in your body and you were torn, trying to decide if you wanted to hate him or not. 

“Open your mouth,” he orders, and you gulp, shaking your head despite knowing that you had nowhere to escape, but also slightly aware of the fact that you felt a pull towards this siren, and it scared you even further. “Don’t be difficult,” he warned. 

Slowly, you parted your mouth, observing his next move. He was quick to snap open his heart shaped pendant, taking a white pearl out and placing it on your tongue, the taste buds already delighted at the sweetness the pearl harboured. 

“Eat it, it’ll help you breathe in the water,” he said, eyes so dark yet shiny. 

“No! What? No, I can’t go in there—” you looked horrified at the idea. 

He simply looked at you, “you have nowhere else to go. So, it’s either you follow me, or you become food for the others,” he said, referring to the sirens which you had encountered a few minutes back. 

He left you no choice, his gaze sharp as he waited for your answer. With a gulp, you nodded, choosing to follow him as he saved your life, finally intaking the pearl, watching him nod with the slightest upliftment of his lip. 

“Come,” he extended his hand for you to take. 

“Wait,” you stopped him, “what’s your name?” 

“Sunghoon,” he spoke, voice rich as he finally held on to your hand, intertwining your fingers, “and you belong to me now.”

He didn’t give you a chance to react pulling you with him. Panic seeped through you, which was soon replaced by shock as you could easily breathe under the water, as said by Sunghoon, who held on to you tighter, taking you deep inside the water. 

You were mesmerized by the schools of fishes around you, coral reefs of all colours decorating the sea. Nothing felt real to you anymore. It was too surreal to be real, especially the siren next to you, who had his eyes set on you. 

You didn’t know what was to come. 

If someone told you you’d be visiting a royal palace deep inside the sea then you would have laughed in their face. 

However, now that you had actually reached such a place, trying to hold in your panic, you weren’t sure how to react, granted that you had pinched yourself a few times to wake up in case it was a dream. 

Which wasn’t the case sadly. 

The shock was clear on your face when the tailed guards with tridents bowed down looking at Sunghoon. The place was epitome of beauty, decorated with underwater planktons and shells, the merfolks eyed you with curiosity, to which you held on to Sunghoon’s arm tighter. 

“Why are we here? Don’t tell me you’re a prince,” you said, still wondering how you got to breathe under the water, also staring at the big shell covered with foam, a few mermaids sitting there, whispering amongst themselves but it was clear that you were the topic of their gossip. 

Sunghoon didn’t answer your question, taking you into a big chamber which seemed to be his room, and you stilled, thinking that maybe he did belong to the royal family. 

“Jake, come here,” Sunghoon called out, revealing a siren with an elegant, green coloured tail. 

He bowed down the second he was summoned in front of Sunghoon, “yes, your majesty?” 

“Set up a chamber with no water. It should have the atmosphere similar to that of the land. Also arrange human clothing as per the size of my princess,” he ordered, eyes flickering towards you when he spoke the last part and Jake bowed down, leaving you both alone. 

“Y—you’re actually a prince? Oh god, I can’t be staying here—and what do you mean princess?” You rambled, losing your mind, your eyes comically wide at this statement. 

It must be a joke, it has to be a joke. 

“Shh,” he came closer, trapping you against the wall, “I told you, you belong to me now, princess,” he spoke up in his ever so silky voice, his eyes glowing. 

“But—” 

“Oh, princess,” he cupped your cheek, thumb tracing the curve of your cheek, “you’re cute if you think you have a choice, there’s no way to go back now, the ship is destroyed.” His voice came out deeper than you had expected, lips brushing against your ear, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin. 

“You know this is kidnapping, right?” You tried to argue. 

“Not when you want to be here,” he retorted, looking back at you, his pointy nose caressing yours, “you can fight all you want, princess. It won’t change the fact that your heart beats fast whenever I come close to you,” he says, pulling back with a smirk and swimming away, leaving you all alone in his chamber. 

You couldn’t move, as if he saw right through you when he mentioned your heartbeat, because no matter how hard you tried, even you couldn’t convince yourself that you weren’t a flustered mess around him. 

You didn’t know how they managed to set up a chamber without the water but somehow it happened, and in record time too, which had you sighing with pleasure when your feet finally landed on the floor. 

Meanwhile, you were conflicted again, not sure if you’d be okay alone in a room, but at the same time you didn’t wish to sleep with Sunghoon (read: you feared you’d lose control around him) but the thought didn’t bother you for long as you sat down on the big foamy bed they had arranged for you, along with myriads of clothes in all colours and patterns, majority of them consisting of silky dresses, the fabric more watery than water itself. 

You half expected Sunghoon to visit you before sleeping, which didn’t happen and you couldn’t deny that it disappointed you, granted you knew no one but him. 

Your feelings were all over the place, nothing felt real but you weren’t sure if the reality of being on land would be any better than the comfort you’re seeking being under the water, away from the danger as you remembered that you indeed have someone who’s willing to save you. 

Yet you can’t help but want to fight him for being so unnecessarily cocky, then again, he was a prince, and a siren prince at that, you couldn’t blame him for the way he was. 

Sleep came easily, especially when you were in the comfort of the foamy bed they had arranged for you while you were clad in the silkiest night slip you found in the grand closet, which again was arranged for you in record time. 

You weren’t sure how long you slept, but your body needed the rest, and by the time you woke up, all your little wounds and bruises were gone from the fight yesterday, not to mention how you were surrounded by a bunch of curious mermaids who were sent to take care of you, their tails had turned into legs as they entered your room. 

“Hey, nice to meet you guys,” you spoke awkwardly, glad that they weren’t being rude to you, but they were curious about you. 

“Does his highness talk to you?”

“How did you guys meet?”

“Prince Sunghoon never brings anyone back to the palace, you must be really special to him.”

All three spoke up, making your eyes go wide, “he doesn’t?” You ask and they shake their heads to confirm the statement. 

You feel your cheeks beating up, trying to look elsewhere to calm down. The mermaids were nice, taking you to the royal bath first, also fetching you some human food, surprisingly the most scrumptious one you had ever consumed. 

However, they were quick to leave the second Sunghoon arrived at your chamber, his tail too getting converted into long legs, his torso on display but his legs covered with a blue-green silky cloth wrapped around his waist, being the same colour as his tail. 

“Slept well, princess?” He asked, approaching where you sat down on your bed. 

“Don’t call me that, I won’t ever be your princess,” you breathed out. 

“Feisty one, aren’t you?” He clicked his tongue, face indifferent as if he was expecting this exact reaction. 

He came closer, observing your face where the scratch wound had been previously, he smelled like fresh ocean breeze, the kind that makes you feel alive even on the dullest of your days, and you couldn’t help but clear your throat and look away. 

“How do you have legs now?” You asked, deviating your attention, but he continued staring at your face, “don’t you have princely duties to take care of?” You asked, trying to get him to talk, but again, he continued to stare at you, his head tilting slightly as you gulped, not looking into his eyes. 

“Taking care of my princess is a part of my duty,” he said as smooth as ever, leaving you speechless yet again. 

You didn’t notice the necklace he had in his slender fingers, made up of prettiest shades of little shells. It was delicate, almost magical with how sparkling it looked to the eyes, “got them made from the rarest shells of the kingdom,” he spoke up, inching closer to help you wear it. 

His touch was cold, juxtaposing the trail of warmth he left he left behind as he clasped it behind your neck, your eyelids fluttering close at the proximity, a shiver running down your spine as he whispered into your ear, “I found the necklace pretty, but you made it look prettier.”

It was impossible for you to stop thinking about Sunghoon it seemed, even more so when you had the prettiest necklace resting on your clavicle. It was as if the water around you had some sort of magic which made your mind drift back to the certain dark haired prince over and over again. 

Maybe it was because you were in his kingdom, or maybe because he was a siren, the creature famous for its manipulative skills. Yet you knew he wasn’t using his siren voice or anything related to that when he talked to you. 

Shaking your head, you focused on exploring the palace with your three new friends, the mermaids you had met earlier in the morning. The word pretty would not be enough to describe your surroundings as you observed the tiny pink seahorses moving around in a line at the back gardens of the palace. 

“I see how envious everyone is, their stares could actually kill,” one of the mermaids spoke up. 

“Why don’t you guys hate me?” You grimaced while asking. 

“Because the prince has his eyes set on you and you only—also, we are his cousins so we don’t really like the whole idea of incest,” they explained with soft smiles. 

“Oh—” you said out loud before they nudged you to look at the person who was already present in your chamber, none other than your prince. 

A sudden wave of giddiness travelled down your body, leaving just as quick when you mentally reminded yourself to not fall for his antics. He was a siren chasing a human girl after all. 

“Prince Sunghoon. What do I owe this pleasure for?” You ask, standing in front of his taller frame as your friends leave you in privacy, closing the door behind them as they leave. 

He stood with his back facing you, and that was a dangerous sight already with his muscles flexing at every little movement of his. 

To prevent this from happening (read: your mind going mush at the sight of him), you moved swiftly and situated yourself in the comfort of your big bed, his eyes observing you carefully, just like always and the action was enough for the corner of his lips to lift up ever so slightly. 

“Prince and Princess should sleep together, don’t you think so, pretty?” He asked in his velvety tone. 

Each time you try to step back to calm yourself, Sunghoon comes up saying something bizarre, leaving you more disoriented than before. 

“W—what are you talking about? We’re not even married yet—”

“Yet. Well, I’m glad to see you being enthusiastic about it,” he mused, harbouring a lopsided grin as he neared you. 

Your mouth was open as you tried to display just how against you were of the idea, “I’m not marrying you,” you confirmed. 

He rolled his eyes, wrapping his fingers around your ankle, pulling you closer effortlessly, enough for your face to be inches away from him, your legs dangling on either side of him as he stood in between your legs. 

“Cute,” he chuckled, taking the authority with less to no effort, his sharp fangs on display as he grabs your neck in a swift moment, the action has you seeing stars even with the lack of pressure on his hold, other hand caressing your bottom lip with his thumb, brushing the same spot over and over again. 

“Sunghoon—”

“Y’know what, princess? You remind me of this little creature I came across when I visited your land. She was just like you—hissing and scratching till I got down on my knees and gave her gentle caresses on her back,” he told the story, making you freeze on spot, his voice captivating, “such a sweet kitten she was. You’re the same, so violent despite being a cute little kitten, all you need is a gentle caress—” he caressed your cheek to make a point, “to have you mewling like a kitten.”

You couldn’t stop the little whimper escaping your lips the second he said so, proving his point even further as your cheeks burned with embarrassment? Proximity? His fingers around your neck? Or the way he made you mewl exactly like a cat? You couldn’t decide. 

“Sweet dreams, princess.” He smirked, leaving you alone for the night, speechless as ever. 

You couldn’t, for the life of you, face Sunghoon after the little stunt he pulled last night and you did everything in your power to avoid him the following day, which he found amusing as he watched you swimming away from a distance, using your pretty legs in the middle of other sirens, the necklace still wrapped around your pretty neck. 

Others complained how he didn’t smile much to none, which changed when he found himself smiling with his dimples on display at the sight of his cousin mermaids giving you various sea flowers, tucking them behind your ear, which made them glow. The bioluminescence felt like magic to you as they glowed when you smiled, moving around and discovering the secrets these deep waters held, your eyes meeting Sunghoon’s for a brief second when you realized he’s watching from the balcony of his chambers. Your breath hitched, the sight of his torso never failing to get you flustered as you averted your eyes to focus on something else—anything else. 

You couldn’t help but admit that you enjoyed this new life, and that you were grateful to be alive, to be saved by a certain siren who was in your mind twenty four seven, the circadian clock adjusting to your new ways of living. 

You watched yourself in the big reflecting surface which served to be the mirror in your room, your skin had a newfound glow and your body looked pretty clad in the blue dress which was lighter than the air, the fabric almost felt like silky fluid. 

The noise of shuffling behind you caught your attention, and you simply assumed that it would be Sunghoon who had come to visit you again, which wasn’t the case as you turned around to see an ugly siren with its claws out, reaching out to you with the most gut wrenching scream it could muster. 

Your eyes widened, hands covering your ear to save your precious eardrums, crouching down to save yourself. 

Maybe you said it too early, maybe this life was just a little something god had given to you before trying to snatch everything away from you, including your life. You waited for the attack, you waited for the trident to pierce your body.

Yet the attack never came. 

With your body shaking, you dared to open your eyes, only to find Sunghoon with his eyes pitch black as he held on to the other siren by its neck. His grip was strong, the sound of bone crushing only made you look away in fear, “how dare you—” he spoke up, voice loud and shaking with anger,  “—try to hurt my princess?” He didn’t hold back anymore, slamming his head on the floor, blood splattering everywhere, a few drops landing on his face. 

Sunghoon didn’t wish to drag it long, especially when he knew that you were terrified, “clean it up,” he ordered Jake, who was quick to oblige his command. 

“Princess,” Sunghoon spoke up once you were alone in the chamber, his voice gentle as you looked up at him through tears, noticing that the siren was nowhere to be found, “he’s gone, he won’t be back,” Sunghoon told you. 

You stood up shaking, rushing into his arms. Sunghoon was quick to wrap his arms around your waist, the other hand resting on the back of your head, patting you gently to calm you down. 

“Hoon,” you whispered, “why did he come after me?” You asked, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“He wanted the crown, so—so he went after the person I cherished the most,” Sunghoon told you earnestly, trying not to kiss you the second you used the nickname. 

“Please don’t lie to me,” your voice came out as a whisper, lower lip jutting out in a pout. You couldn’t resist him anymore. 

He cradled your face, his fingertips soft against your skin, providing you with the warmth you had gotten so familiar with over the past few days, maybe it was the way he had protected you since the day he first laid his eyes on you, maybe it was how he never failed to express his emotions when it came to you, speaking whatever came to his mind, maybe it was how his eyes were full of love and a promise of something more. 

That’s what made you want to kiss the prettiest creature you had ever met. 

His touch was light as the feather, which allowed you to move swiftly as you got on your tippy toes, placing your soft lips against his rosy ones in a quick kiss. 

Your heart was beating out of your chest, the tenderness lingering behind on your lips, but that wasn’t enough for him. He bit his lower lip, pulling you closer by the waist, his body pressing against yours as he pulled you into a feverish kiss, the kind that leaves you breathless, his lips slotting against yours in a perfect manner, as if puzzle pieces put together. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed out the second he separated from the kiss. 

“Why? Don’t you want your princess now—” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before he was picking you up with ease, lips on your again, his muscles flexing as he carried you to the bed, getting on top of you, giving you a second to breathe. 

It was the way he stared so deeply into your eyes, it had you melting in his arms, “want you,” you admitted, “so much.”

His smile was wide, mesmerizing you to the point you had to lean on your elbow, kissing his dimpled cheek before trailing kisses down his jaw. The peck on his Adam's apple however, was enough to drive him over the edge. 

You looked so pretty like this, lips glossy and eyes begging to have more of him, all of him. It was like a tune playing in the background when he dipped down to trail kisses all over your clavicle, sucking love marks all over your previously untouched skin, his fangs digging into your flesh slightly, providing you with the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure, your back arching as he got rougher with his approach. 

His touch was electrifying as he grabbed the curve of your waist, “you’re my human, all mine,” he mumbled against your skin. If his voice was alluring for you then every inch of you was alluring for him. 

Your dress was easy to remove, soon thrown on the ground, exposing your body to Sunghoon, who swears he’d worship you each day. You squeeze his bicep, holding on to him tight, his finesse showing as he takes your tits in his mouth, squeezing the other one when you moaned, no room in between you for any air to pass through. 

He continued kissing lower and lower, covering the expanse of your body in a silent prayer. He was claiming you his. 

Lifting your legs on his shoulder, he continued peppering kisses all over your lower abdomen, your fingers tugging on his silky roots to get a grip, pretty whines leaving your lips, telling him to stop teasing. 

He couldn’t ever deny you, now sucking on your clit, tongue tasting every drop of your arousal, prodding your entrance. The brush of his nose on your clit had you shivering with need, “Hoonie,” you whispered, eyes closing at the unadulterated bliss he provided you with. 

He fucked his tongue into your hole, desperate to have your taste all over him, the rings on his fingers juxtaposing the warmth of your body as he held your thighs open, his shoulders providing to be sturdy and strong for your legs. 

It was too much, your hands were sweaty, now gripping on the silky sheets as you stared at the watery ceiling, which reflected the lewd image back at you—Prince Sunghoon buried in your cunt, immersed in eating you out, wanting to have every inch of his princess. 

Your back arched into him, craving more of him as you felt your high approaching with the spasming of your pussy, your body not being able to handle more of his ministrations, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles, lewd noises all around the room as you finally orgasmed, telling him taste all of you. 

“Fuck, you’re my sweet nectar and I’m obsessed,” he muttered, coming up to push his tongue inside your mouth, the kiss deeper than ever as you tasted yourself on his tongue. 

You didn’t even notice when he unpinned his cloth from his waist, the delicate chain and ornaments decorating his perfectly sculpted body as you finally saw him—long, thick, and hard for you. Your mind blanked out, it wasn’t gonna fit, but you couldn’t help but whine for more. 

“Make me yours,” you whispered, and he pulled you impossibly closer, as if trying to meld his body with yours, your arousal had his lips glistening, his eyes turning dark again. 

“You’re so fucking mine,” he spoke in a deep breath, pumping his cock a few times, “all mine,” he pecked the corner of your mouth, chuckling as you chased for more. 

And he gave you exactly that, your eager holes taking him in slowly as he pushed himself inside your warm cunt, the walls clenching around, trying to adjust to his length and for a second you forgot that you were being fucked by a siren, his cock too perfect, too big for you. 

“Oh god,” you cried out as he pumped himself into you slowly, trying to fit himself into you by each thrust. You were so fucked out already, wanting to kiss Sunghoon every chance you got and you were afraid of how fast you developed feelings for your pretty siren. 

“That’s it, baby. That’s my good girl,” he praised as you took him in fully, his cock snugly fit inside you, your toes curling with the overwhelming sensation. He grabbed your hips, pistoning into you harder, faster, panting near your ear before keeping his forehead against yours in hopes of mapping out, learning and remembering every expression of yours. 

Oh you looked beautiful. 

The moonlight coming down from the mirror-like ceiling only casted a glow on you, making you seem even more magical than Sunghoon thought you are and you wanted this moment to last forever, his cock twitching and hitting the deepest spots in you, the spots that had your mind shutting off. 

“So—so close,” you whimpered, and he held on to you tighter. 

“Let go, princess. Come for me,” he said, kissing your tears of pleasure away as he too rushed to fuck you harder, making sure you felt every inch of him in your core, filling you up as you heard sweet melodies, as if you had reached heaven, you both coming undone together, holding each other with need. 

He kissed your temple, caressing your cheek before placing sweet kisses all over, telling you how well you did, before saying something that made you cry out of what you’d call love. 

“I used to sit on the rock staring at the moon, my mother told me I’d get my soulmate soon,” he said, looking at you softly, the look in his eyes was enough to confirm that you wanted to stay with him for life. 

“And now that I’ve found you, I’m never letting you go, princess.” 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[zarameraki]

♡₊˚🔪・₊✧ 𝘁𝗼𝗷𝗶 𝗶𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝘁. 𝟭₊˚🔪・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 obsessed at the first glance 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 masturbation (toji time) 𖥔 "she's mine even if she doesn't know it yet" 𖥔 age gap 𖥔 he's downright depraved for you

: ̗̀➛ word count: 3.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: happy new year, mamas! and happy belated birthday to my baby daddy. y'all have no idea how fun it is to write toji fics. i've got a hundred already lined up. i'm going to make this a full series but for now here is part one of what's about to come (haha get it? oh god. i need help)

The first time Toji laid his eyes on you was the morning after he’d finished yet another one of his assassination cases.

There you were, seated on a picnic mat, a serene oasis in the bustling sea of activity. The wind danced through your hair, and you were engrossed in a book, your legs tucked comfortably beneath you. The music in your headphones created a private sanctuary, shielding you from the cacophony of playful children, picnicking families, and the vibrant hum of the city's summer.

Toji found himself rooted to the spot.

Oblivious to the annoyed cyclists and the world rushing past him, he stood there, captivated. It was as though he had stumbled upon a deity crafted solely for him.

You briefly raised your gaze, taking a momentary break from the confines of the small text.

Toji couldn't believe his luck as he found himself mesmerized by the tantalizing sight before him. Despite his best efforts to maintain composure, a telltale bulge in his sweatpants betrayed the mark you had on him. There you were, blissfully unaware, sipping from a water bottle that seemed almost rehearsed.

His fixation deepened as he observed every nuance of your movements—the curve of your mouth, the delicate way your throat accommodated the liquid, and the small hands that gripped the oversized bottle. He imagined his cock instead and flinched from the way his dick twitched. The simple act of you licking your lower lip and unbuttoning the top buttons of your dress shirt to fan yourself from the heat sent shivers down his spine.

You just had to start tying your hair up. 

Taking a deep breath, Toji briskly walked towards a nearby public restroom and locked himself in one of the vacant stalls.

His back pressed against the wall as he lowered his sweatpants and pulled his thick, trembling cock out, pre-cum trickling from the tip. He lowered his eyes and visualized you on your knees, grabbing his cock and circling your small, pink tongue around his tip. His head cruised back as you swallowed his length to the back of your warm throat, gagging, gasping, choking, bobbing your head back and forth. His fingers tightly held onto your tender scalp, fucking himself into your pretty, little mouth until your nose was crushed against his pelvis. He heard you begging, pleading, scratching at his hips to give you a breather, but Toji relentlessly fed you his cock, over and over and over—

Spurts of release erupted and splattered onto the stall's wall, with droplets dripping onto the floor. Toji opened his eyes only to find the space where your apparition was supposed to linger now empty. His hand was sticky and hot, smudged in the mess he’d made envisioning you. You. It was you who had provoked this intense response, causing him to reach a climax faster than ever before.

As Toji cleaned himself up, he couldn't ignore the unabashed stares from the onlookers, men who had clearly overheard him masturbating. Ignoring the judgmental gazes, he focused on formulating a plan to claim you, even if you fought or opposed it; he was convinced that, in time, you would surrender.

In his mind, you were already his.

Toji lingered for the next few hours on that park bench, focused on you. His eyes traced every move you made, absorbed in that stupid book of yours, oblivious to the frisbees and kites dancing above you. His gaze burned into the teenage boys engaged in soccer behind you, fuming as they carelessly neared you with the ball. Especially the one you beamed at after he half-heartedly apologized to you.

Fuck, that smile of yours was irreplaceable.

As you packed your mat into the duffle bag and rose, turning to dust your ass off from any debris sticking to it, Toji's thoughts took a blunt turn. Sleep was an impossibility now.

Following discreetly as you strolled down the path, immersed in the rhythm of your ear-throbbing music, Toji couldn't help but dissect every inch of you. Your clothes, undoubtedly high-end and branded, spoke volumes. The price tag on your headphones alone easily flirted with seven hundred dollars, if not more. It was clear—you came from a life of comfort, perhaps a spoiled heir or held a proud position in some grand corporation. You were proving to be a challenging prize, a fish that refused to be easily caught.

You decided to take a pit stop at a vegan café where they charged an arm and a leg for a tiny cup of espresso.

Patiently, Toji lingered outside, cigarette dangling from his lips, the ember casting shadows on his sharp features. Peering through the glass, he caught glimpses of your animated conversation with a male barista. Though, the bastard's eyes were shamelessly speaking to your cleavage.

Toji hadn’t killed anyone for fun in a while; maybe the lanky fucker was going to start a new streak. 

As you emerged, holding your iced coffee and muffin like some divine offering, he noticed the scribbles on the napkin. Ah, the barista's number, huh? The son-of-a-bitch just signed his own death warrant.

With a flick of your wrist, you crumpled the napkin and tossed it into the trash, conveniently placed right next to him.

Your eyes locked.

The cigarette in Toji's mouth hung suspended in a moment that seemed to stretch forever. Your gaze shot up as you took in the powerful physique of the man, the scar tracing its path on his left lip, and the black, sleek strands of hair framing those perilous, obsidian-green eyes. He was more than just attractive; he was a magnetic force, and you could feel the tingling of anxiety dancing on your skin. Too bad your family had always drummed into you the importance of polished over rugged.

Despite the internal turmoil, you turned on your heel and continued walking, nonchalantly sipping on your cold coffee to ease the tension building within you. There was an undeniable urge to steal one last glance at him, an itch in your brain pushing you to do so. With feigned composure, you added an extra sway to your hips, aware that his eyes were still on you.

Toji’s eyes were glued to your ass. Was he breathing? Nope. He was sure he’d busted his cover just then. You had checked him out for thirty whole seconds, the opportunity to speak suspended in the air, only to be pulled apart and crumble at his feet. 

But he didn’t care. 

He shadowed your every move, navigating through busy intersections, seamlessly blending into the teeming masses, keeping up with only the sway of your swinging ponytail and your ass. Fuck, he loved your ass. He wanted to spank it red, bruise the flesh for teasing you. 

Finally, you stepped into the most luxurious hotel in the city.

Toji wondered if you were a local or a visitor from abroad. If he had to purchase a plane ticket to tail you back to your residence, he'd gladly do it. It was insane how unknowingly you had him trapped, wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger.

The lobby was nothing short of fucking fancy.

The place was decked out with marble floors that shone so much he could almost see his reflection. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, sparkling with a zillion crystals.

The furniture was all plush and comfortable, like sinking into a cloud. Big, ornate couches and chairs scattered around, all in rich, deep colors.

In the middle was a fancy concierge desk with people in sharp suits and friendly smiles ready to help out. He caught a whiff of some subtle, expensive scent in the air—not too overpowering, just enough to make him feel like he was out of place.

There was a low hum of activity—people chatting, the clinking of glasses from the bar nearby, maybe some soft piano music in the background. He couldn't help but feel a bit important just standing there like he'd stepped into a world where everything was a little more polished and refined.

He was in hell.

"Dad!" you exclaimed, striding towards your father amidst a crowd of his guards and members of the family hotel enterprise board.

"Darling!" Your father embraced you briefly, then caught a whiff of something unusual around you. "Were you smoking?"

Shit. 

That attractive stranger from before had been smoking and the scent must’ve stuck to your clothes. 

"I bumped into a friend who was," you lied, acknowledging your father's associates with a nod. Your current appearance didn't exactly match the polished image your mother presented to the press, but it was a facet appreciated by some online fans. As the heiress to the family hotel, however, you understood the importance of maintaining grace.

Even on your days-off. 

"How was your meeting?" you asked.

"Same old, same old. Nothing for you to worry about," he replied dismissively.

"I mean, shouldn't I be involved? I'm almost twenty-one. It might be time for me to learn the ropes of managing—"

"I'm still around, aren't I?" Your father pushed your arm, causing you to stagger slightly. "Why don't you go freshen up now? We have a family dinner tonight." Family dinners, in this case, were elaborate affairs with your father and mother's vast social circles, almost a societal event. Unfortunately, everything was hosted at the hotel, making you feel like you were in a gilded cage.

"Sure, Dad."

He planted a quick kiss on your cheek and walked past you.

You stared at his retreating figure and the group of men you would eventually be working with, all of them vanishing through the hotel's automatic doors until the lights surrounding you became a blur. Your fingers touched your wet eyes, the back of your shaky hand wiping at your cheeks.

Despite the hurt, your training to act classy in public kicked in. You rolled back your shoulders, attempted a smile, and walked toward the elevators leading to your personal suite.

Observing the unfolding scenario from a discreet vantage point nearby, Toji, with arms and ankles casually crossed, wore a devilish smirk at how effortlessly the situation had played into his hands.

His room was on the twelfth floor. 

It served as a temporary base for the two nights he had planned to stay. Plenty of time, in his calculation, to claim you as his own. He walked the fine line between confidence and cockiness, especially when dealing with a woman of your caliber. If he were to leave empty-handed, Toji carried a darkness within that would annihilate those you loved, a merciless flood of destruction until you had no choice but to turn to him. His sights were set on you, beginning with your pretentious father.

Yes, Toji had researched each and every single human associated with you. 

Your father was a titan in the hospitality game and built an empire that stretched across the map. His hotels sprouted like mushrooms, and his wealth skyrocketed faster than you could say "check-in." He portrayed himself as the picture-perfect family man, but lurking in the shadows were dealings that'd make you think twice about tagging him with the 'daddy dear' label. During one of his many interviews, he let slip a desire for a son. When the inevitable talk of you inheriting the hotels surfaced, he'd chuckle, saying, "We'll see about that."

Toji absentmindedly toyed with his pocket knife, thinking of ways he’d cut your father’s tongue and shove it down his throat. 

Then there's your mom, the classic trophy wife. No accomplishments to her name, just born into a world of idle gossip and social climbing. Since you were in diapers, she's been molding you into the picture-perfect daughter for the public eye. Nannies raised you, and she only paid attention when it came to playing matchmaker, setting you up with aristocratic jerks.

Toji might spare your mother only because she was an airhead being puppeteered by your father’s gimmicks. 

You, on the contrary, were as perfect as one could get. Top of your class all through elementary to high school, currently enrolled in a business Ivy program at a prestigious university, president of the student union, and an active team player in clubs as absurd as juggling.

Your carefully crafted social media presence had Toji rolling his eyes. An avid reader who probably devoured Shakespeare in between saving the world and a lover of sunsets because nothing said depth like a passion for the fading light. Your commitment to wildlife, starting a charity for animals in captivity that was funded strictly by your family's friends. He bet the lions and tigers sent you thank-you cards.

Toji forcefully closed his laptop, took a deep breath, and sank into his mattress, gripping the roots of his hair.

He knew he wanted you. He wanted to touch you, to be inside of you, to break you and put you together again. The image of you being pushed by your father played in his mind, making his heart threaten to burst from his chest.

Despite the depraved thoughts, Toji was genuinely curious about you. The real you. The person seeking love in the same way you offered it to others. He wanted to fuck you but also take great care of you. He wanted to make you cry, but only when you were underneath him, begging for more. He’d kill himself if he hurt you otherwise. He questioned if a dormant monster within you waiting to be awakened by his own.

There had to be. 

And he would be the one to root it out.

Toji pulled himself together, took a quick shower, and threw on the best outfit he had found in his cramped closet within his even more cramped apartment while packing. Living in close quarters didn't bother him; after all, his income came from a rather unconventional source—he was a professional assassin, taking out targets for clients that ranged from politicians to drug dealers. Penthouses and sports cars weren't his style, even if he could afford them; he preferred the simple life, spending most of his earnings on one thing he enjoyed the most: gambling on horse racing.

Knowing that you'd be at the bar, Toji decided to do a bit of reconnaissance. He hacked into the private security servers of the hotel, observing your movements from the corridor to the public areas. He saw you leaving your room in a stunning maroon gown, hair elegantly pinned up, and lips painted a vibrant red. His dick jerked in his trousers.

He spotted you alone at the bar, enjoying a cyan-colored drink. The smooth expanse of your back in that revealing dress nearly made him come in his pants right there and then.

Cracking his neck muscles, Toji walked up to the bartender, positioning himself about two meters away from where you sat. He pulled out a cigarette and flicked the silver lighter, flaming the end of the dart. Drawing in the first drag, he exhaled a plume of smoke. “I’ll take a whiskey.” 

Giving you a casual once-over, Toji noticed you tracing circles on the table, lips in a pout, and eyes blinking languidly.

“Rough day?” he asked, settling into the seat beside you.

“You have no idea—” You looked sideways and met the dark green eyes of the attractive stranger. Your nails were now idle on the table, and you sat up straight. A breath caught in your chest, and you greeted him with a simple "Hi."

“Hi.” He pulled out the cigarette to take a sip, lips pulling in to savor the sharp taste of his whiskey. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, sweetheart.” 

Your chest skipped a beat at the unexpected nickname. "I-I— Are you stalking me or something?"

“Stalking is a strong word, doll. I prefer 'casual observation.'”

“So you’re stalking me?” 

The stranger chuckled, and your knees quivered from the husky, rough sound. “You're a vision, sure,” he said, his voice a slight victim to the smoking, “but I’m too much of a gentleman to do such a thing.” 

You observed his clothes closely. He was dressed in a sleek black formal ensemble with impeccably shiny Oxfords. However, his hair was neatly combed down instead of styled up, and you caught the silver hoop adorning his left ear. The idea of him being sent by your mother or being the son of one of your father's friends quickly crossed your mind, but you ruled out the possibility. Maybe him being outside that café and being here was a complete coincidence.

“The name’s Toji.” He extended his hand for a shake. You glanced at the faded scars on the back of his hands. And when you hesitantly slipped your hand through his, the roughness of his palm rubbed against your softer one. “Ever washed a dish in your life, sweetheart?” 

A shake of your head was all the admission he needed.

"Yeah, figured as much." Toji turned your hand, his thumb tracing a journey along its unblemished terrain.

You quickly took back your hand and placed it on your lap. “I’m sure you know my name.” 

Toji tilted his head. “Am I supposed to?” 

You blinked. In a world where your family name echoed through the corridors of the hotel, his genuine ignorance was a rarity. "I'm Y/N.”

"Y/N," he echoed, your name a lazy caress on your skin. Above the rim of his nearly empty glass, he regarded you with a watchful gaze. “The fuck is that, anyway? Windex?” 

You raised your drink. “It’s a mocktail. I have a family dinner in an hour so I can’t drink. My father says it’ll impede my ability to talk. I can’t mess anything up.” 

He half-rolled his eyes. “You like Coke?” 

“Like, the soda?” 

"What else, sweetheart?" He swiped a finger under his nose, throwing in a wink. "Unless that's your thing."

“No.” Your cheeks heated. “I like diet Coke, I suppose.” 

Toji locked eyes with you and signaled the bartender. "Vodka diet coke for the lady."

"What?" You started to object, but Toji's hand clasped around your forearm, freezing you. “Remove your hand right now.” 

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin playing on his lips. If he weren't so irritatingly charming, you might have considered introducing your mocktail to his face with a quick call to security as a chaser. “Just don’t want you to die knowing you never tried vodka.” His cheeks hollowed as he inhaled, exhaling wisps of smoke that danced in captivating swirls. “Ever smoked?” 

You shook your head, a coy resistance to his vices obvious on your face. "It's detrimental to your health, you know. Consistent smoking can fast-track your journey to an early death. If you're aiming for more than thirty candles on your birthday cake, I'd advise a little moderation."

A sardonic chuckle escaped him. “Well, fuck.” He inspected the dart in his hand as if it held the secrets of the universe. “Guess I missed the invitation for my funeral five years ago.”

He’s old. 

“Too old for you, sweetheart?” He dipped his head conspiratorially, locking eyes with you. "Hope you're not collecting a set of daddy issues like souvenirs."

You shot him sidelong glances, a subtle shake of your head. "I happen to like my dad, thank you very much."

“You’re welcome.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a small puff of a laugh at his response. 

He shot you a grin, his scar stealing a moment of your attention before the vodka diet Coke presented itself. “You still in school?” 

You nodded. “University.” 

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Keeps me distracted.” 

“From?” 

Your hand swept through the ambience of the hotel's bar, and Toji followed your motion, absorbing the surroundings. “I don’t know if my name rang a bell at all, but I’m to inherit this place.” 

“Didn’t.” Toji raised his glass, gesturing his chin at the vodka diet coke in front of you. “Let’s drink to it.” 

“I told you I can’t. I’m also lightweight. Besides, I don’t want it on my tab. My father keeps a check—”

“My father this, my father that.” Toji sighed, taking your drink and snagging a straw from a nearby container. He placed it near your lips. “Your father might have set the stage, but he can't dictate the play. Take a sip. If you hate it, fuck it. That work for you, sweetheart?"

You frowned at the subtle pressure venting from him. A fleeting swipe of your tongue traced your lower lip, drawing Toji's gaze to the subtle curve. His intense scrutiny left you feeling strangely singled out, a rare occurrence in a world where every tidbit of your life laid at the fingertips of anyone with an internet connection. Your secrets were a vault locked tight, shared with no one but yourself. Indulging in personal interests took a back seat to your responsibilities, and you strictly stuck to a scripted persona to protect your family's reputation. Even something as mundane as sipping on a vodka diet Coke. 

Toji set the drink on the table, slipping a generous tip to the bartender. His financial status seemed modest, likely someone comfortably positioned enough to book a room in your hotel. “Listen, sweetheart, I don’t often give out advice ‘cuz frankly, I'm not exactly an expert on your generation.” He took a final drag of his cigarette, extinguished it under his foot, and nonchalantly dropped the remains into your drink. “But, you might want to dust off that brilliant little brain of yours sooner rather than later. Mind passing me a pen, buddy?” 

The tender handed him a sharpie instead, and Toji scribbled out something on a napkin.

“Are you leaving?” you asked, feeling somewhat disappointed in yourself. You wanted him to ask you more questions. You wanted to know more about him. 

“Afraid so, doll.” He folded the napkin, both of you surreptitiously scanning the surroundings before he handed it over. A smirk played on his lips, causing you to rethink the urgency with which you accepted it. “Your old man taught you lots of lessons, but seems like 'Stranger Danger' wasn't part of his curriculum, huh?” 

“He doesn’t completely control me.” 

Toji smirked, tapping the folded napkin. “Well, we're about to test that theory."

He left you perched on the barstool, and the moment he vanished, you unfolded the napkin, heart pounding.

ROOM 1231. 

Sooner or later.

[mallowmaenad]

6'3" Underweight Trans Girl With Eyebags whose wearing an Oversized Black Sweater: I recently remembered all of my past lives. Most of it was spent as various plant life and fungi in the same twenty foot radius in a forest by a rural interstate route until a robin ate the seed containing my soul and flew to another forest where I reincarnated as her child. I would then die a tragic death at a young age to a local fox where I'd live a long life as her kit and eventually die of old age, I then spent several generations as various plant life and fungi in that forest which was eventually destroyed by industry.

I was a tree during that time and my plant fibers were processed to manufacture paper used to make a sticker placed on an orange whose peel was placed in a compost bin, eventually leading me to the dark yet decadent life of a worm until I then eventually expired and awoke as a tomato plant in the care of a kindly older woman, it is that life whose memories I treasure the most.

She was a very skilled and warm woman, and many of my cycles afterwards were spent as my own kin in generations of tomato plants in a blink of an eye. One day she took me into her car in a pot, I remember how she spoke to me. At the time she had named me Reynolds, she had set into a trend of naming me after Hollywood actors she found attractive. It was the day before her daughter's birthday and I was to be her gift, I could not feel bittersweet about this a the time, because I was a tomato plant.

She buckled me into the back seat of a car as if I was a child of her own and drove down a rural interstate route, illuminating the black sea of the night sky with her headlights as the shadows seemed to drown out anything but us. A deer with bone wasting disease stood in the road like a grim reaper, white eyes shining as her aching foot tried to react in time on the break peddle.

The two embraced in a bloody collision, I remember the deer in its last moments weakly nibbling at her flesh as they both bled out in an agony they were ignorant to, I wilted and died in that car along with her and that deer, I do not know what the journey of my soul was like, but my next life was as a patch of semi-feral grass on the side of a similar road caught in the mouth of a possum eating a partially full discarded box of Wendy's fries who was then promptly turned into road kill, when the day was new a burly Appalachian man whose stern demeanor hid a soft heart would legally and cleanly collect the cadaver and break it down, using the remains for a meal some yuppies would find ghastly. This man was my father- or rather my father in this cycle of life.

I know in my heart of hearts that you were that old woman who nurtured me so many times as her beloved tomato plants, you had the rare privilege to live your life as an incinerator at a crematorium, but the march of technology and nut after bolt you grew broken, a death by a thousand cuts, a death by a thousand bodies. Your massive metal cadaver was melted down over time, the raw materials eventually finding itself to a factory that manufactured bullets, a life of darkness in a cardboard prison only to be shunted into a pistol's magazine... your entire existence is interesting, stretching the meaning of what it means to be eaten and to live. The meek 24 year old boy thought nobody would mourn him when he was gone, you lived as an amorphous patch of greenery ahead of his grave stone.

A curious thing would happen during a visit to this boy's grave, his childhood dog either in embarrassing coincidence or a moment of sentience began to dig at where the body was, being wrenched back as it began to desperately sink his teeth into the soil, ripping you asunder. Almost as divine penance, you lived your next life as a member of this dog's litter, you'd be named after the boy, despite being a girl. Maybe the dog was given some precognition and wanted to eat the boy and take his soul into its mouth to get her the life she always wanted. You were unfortunately born with a chronic condition that led you to a young death, the girl's mother crying just as hard after the vet put you down. You were buried lovingly in her back yard where you became a tomato plant, your same mother not being as much of a green thumb as mine but she devoured your fruits all the same, eventually giving birth to another meek boy after growing pregnant during the time when your last tomato was picked off your wilted stem. I have pursued you since that day with my whole body and spirit, one part unintentional one part in this moment of enlightenment. I love you, and I will love you for the rest of forever.

Trans girl who dropped out of high school to make Hello Kitty breakcore who has her girlfriend's dick in her mouth and is high as fuck right now: Waash dat?

Their shared girlfriend sitting across from them playing Wario Land Shake It on her modded Wii U: Was I the deer with bone wasting disease?

6'3" Underweight Trans Girl: ... Yeah...

[envy-of-the-apple]

Okay,, you have to let us know are the eggs any characters Specifically like megumi or itadori? I bet they would be clingy mommas boys.

Love you crumbs you give us and happy late birthday 🫶🏻

awww ty bestie okay okay okay holdonholdon

You'd name the hatchlings. Idk if I mentioned this or not but in the excerpt, the reader names Suguru and Satoru cuz they didn't have a concept of language yet. I think once they had a general concept of human language, they'd use their human names for each other just like you do.

When Nobara, Yuji and Megumi hatch, they'd definitely hang onto you the most. It's mostly because you are the most caring out of the throuple you were forced into. It makes sense for you to care about them, right? After all, human babies are pretty helpless and that's how far your knowledge extends. And they're adorable, with big round eyes, making cute little chitters. You get a tiny bit protective of them, especially considering the other two nagas don't carry the same sentiment. Suguru is clearly a believer of tough love and you've caught Satoru trying to put one of the eggs in his mouth (you're pretty sure he was joking...but you arent risking it when they're this tiny). They're small right now, but naga hatchlings grow up fast. They're practically your height in just a couple of years.

I feel personally, Yuji would be the (most outwardly) clingiest. He's affectionate, more dog than snake, sometimes. He's the largest of his siblings. When he was smaller, his favorite thing to do was wrap himself around your shoulders and you'd carry him around. He can't do that now, but he has other ways of spending time with you. He 'hunts' with you the most, assisting you with collecting berries and fruit. Apart from you, he'd bond with Satoru more. They share a similar personality, both are easily amused.

Megumi would be the shyest, but he loves you just as much as his siblings do. Much like his fathers, he enjoys the warmth you provide and would love cuddling with you in the languid hours of the evening. He doesn't do that much when he's older, but he's still interested in spending time with you! He likes quality time, the most. Eventually, during your time on the island, you'd have set up a tiny garden. He'd help with that. He and Suguru would have lots of similarities, so you'd often catch them together. They'd both help with your garden, helping cultivate the seeds and soil. It's not natural for them, but they understand you're different from nagafolk

But I think Nobara would be the one you're the closest to. She hatched the first. She's also different from her brothers. Again, in the naga species, the females become something akin to sirens. Slowly, you'd notice how different she is compared to her brothers, how much she enjoys the water, how dry her skin gets when she stays on land for too long. She'd evolve differently. Webbed hands, her tail would be more lithe, finned.

Because she's so different, Satoru and Suguru don't have much of an interest in her. Again, much like reptiles, nagas are fairly independent at a young age. Satoru and Suguru allow the hatchlings to stick around because you'd pitch a fit otherwise and they try to keep their mate happy. Once it becomes clear Nobara is aquatically gifted, you'd be terrified of the thought of her being out alone at sea, so you'd often go out with her, not caring how pruny your fingers get. Because of how much time you spend with her, I think she'd be the most interested in humans. She'd ask you about human culture, human customs. Every once in a while, she'd go out and collect remnants of humanity, clothes, trinkets, jewelry, anything she can find off the ocean floor. She'd sit on the rocky shore, holding out each one, demanding you to explain them to her.

You wouldn't dare mention how much you fear her fathers, but I feel Nobara would be the first to realize that you don't want to be here. She can see it in your eyes, the longing whenever you're explaining another human trinket. She wants you to be happy, but if you go back to the humans....would you still have time for her? Would you still braid her hair? Take care of her? Love her?

In the end, Nobara is the most similar to her fathers. She'd keep you on the island too.

ughhhhhh i should just write that chaptered naga fic already this is getting ridiculous.

[coralinnii]

Congratulations for 2.7k followers!!! For my request, I would like if you could write some sibling scenarios for the octatrio with a younger sibling who absolutely adores and looks up to them. They manage to visit NRC for some kind of event and the younger sibling just follows them around like a little puppy. Copying some of their mannerisms since they want to be just like their cool older brother. I just want to see some silly and fluffy platonic family moments with them, please. 〔´∇｀〕

❋ Big Brother! ❋

↳ Younger sibling!reader visiting him (+ extra Leech brothers birthday special)

feat: Azul ⭑ Floyd ⭑ Jade

genre: platonic fluff, humour

note: no pronouns used with the reader, younger sibling!reader but age is unspecified, established filial relationships, reader is heavily implied to be merfolk, nicknames are used (little octopus, little one, little eel, kiddo)

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

Since Azul’s mother divorced fairly early in Azul’s life, I would imagine that you would be Azul’s half-sibling born from his mother and stepfather. That doesn’t mean that Azul loves you any less.

He worked hard not only for himself, but for his younger sibling. Azul wanted to be someone who you can look up to. Someone strong, smart, successful, and most of all, admirable.

And he did a great job, because you can’t imagine anyone more amazing than your big brother Zuzu.

You managed to convince your parents to let you join their visit to NRC during their VDC festival. Even if Azul wasn’t involved with the competition itself, you always wanted to visit your big brother’s restaurant.

Imagine the merman’s surprise when he felt a pair of small hands pull on the edges of his coat. Your bright smile was brimming with joy seeing your brother get frazzled over your visit.

As much Azul wanted to entertain you, this time of year was an opportune time for business. He offered to let you stay in his big comfy office until he could find time for you.

However you refused, choosing to follow him around. Something you learned from Azul was unrelenting stubbornness, after all. You were content with grabbing hold of Azul's large coat as he walked suspiciously slower than usual. Another thing you learned from your dear brother? An itching desire for a good deal.

Your lovable charm was a hit with the customers who watched as you waddled after Azul, not quite used to feet yet. Nearby customers held in squeals as you wrapped yourself in your brother’s coat, watching Azul and mimicking the smiles and hand gestures that your brother was fond of, even pushing up the glasses you begged your parents to buy you, regardless if you needed them or not.

Enchanted, some of the customers requested a commemorative picture with you, which is where you took Azul’s skills for your practice.

“Hmm…if you buy Zuzu’s yummy drink, then I’ll take a picture. With a contract!”

With a poorly-made contract with messy ink splotches, you wore the biggest smile you could muster as you sent a thumbs-up to your brother, who couldn’t figure out if he should be absolutely flabbergasted or immensely proud.

“Naturally, I knew how adorable my baby octopus is. What kind of blind fool do you take me for?”

Floyd is the kind of brother where he loves you and protective of you but he’s still his mischievous self. Rather than being careful or responsible, Floyd is always happy to bring you to every shenanigan and adventure if you ask him nice enough. This made for some unforgettable memories (for better or for worse)

You learn so much from the spontaneous eel. For example, you learned that sharks can swim really fast when angry, but your big bro Floyd is faster, even when carrying you in his arms.

As teasing as he can be, you admired how strong and cool Floyd was, and was excited to hear stories about his life on land with Jade, especially about the stories of his new friends. You even have a notebook with pictures of specific sea creatures to keep track of the friends he made, because if your brother doesn’t bother with names, why should you? (terrible influence, he is)

Imagine your excitement when you had the chance to visit Floyd during one of his basketball games. You practiced all week walking with feet just so you could run like Floyd does across the court.

Unfortunately, the tall merman was in his less-cheerful moods during this particular game. Boredom quickly struck him mid-way into the game which caused confusion for the opposing team and great distress amongst the NRC Basketball players. Jamil was quick to call for a timeout as soon as he could as the team whispered and panicked over this predicament.

But the timeout gave you a perfect chance get your brother’s attention, waving your hands as you called out to the tall merman as Jade stood by you with a genuine smile. Your other brother was quite aware of the bond his two siblings have so he took the liberty of escorting you as you were sure to get lost on Sage’s Island.

“Floyd! Over here!” You yelled out in joy, wearing a jersey similar to your brother to show off your clear bias. But that wasn’t the only similarity you shared with the teal-haired menace.

Shimmering under the gymnasium’s lights, your earring clipped onto your right ear caught Floyd’s eyes immediately.

The day Floyd and Jade made their earrings from the scales of the sturgeon they fought, you cried when there wasn’t enough to make one for you to wear as well. You pouted and glared every time Floyd flaunted his accessory to you, but when you stopped reacting, he assumed that you'd gotten over it.

But holding onto your ear, the sturgeon scales of your earring was as dazzling as your proud grin.

“Look, Floyd! We all match!” Your smile rejuvenated Floyd’s mood, making the once-moody eel grin back. When did you get that? And how did you get it? Floyd’s mind was flooded with curious questions so he soon turned to his teammates with a sadistic smile.

“I’m gonna crush the competition today. I wanna wrap this up quick, so let’s get serious~”

And Floyd started to have fun again, at the expense of the poor visiting team. How unfortunate for them, but Floyd needed to finish the game so he could hang out with his precious family after all.

“Little eel, come with me. Your big bro is gonna show you something fun!”

As seen with his approach with Floyd, Jade is type to spoil his siblings. No matter how tall you get or how old you are, you are Jade’s precious little one, and Jade loves nothing more than to watch his cherished family have fun, regardless if nobody else is having fun in the process.

Jade is the cool older brother, someone who is calm and dependable. You always admired the way he could charm the masses with his suave words and gestures. In the sea or on land, no one is better than your brother (tied with Floyd)

No matter what anyone says, Jade is the kindest eel in the entire world. To the dismay of others, you started picking up little habits and hobbies of your idol. Your classmates were baffled by the odd terrarium filled with odd marine fungi and rocks you stole from the shores of the beach.

When the NRC’s annual Halloween event opened to the public, you were all too excited to see your brothers, especially Jade, to show off your small terrarium bowl. Once you and your family made it to the last day of the Halloween festival, you rushed to the room that your brothers were managing to greet them.

Unfortunately, you were unaware of the concerning issue of Magicam monsters the students were facing.

These rambunctious visitors, who cared little for anything, accidentally knocked you to the ground with your terrarium along with it. The glass bowl was broken into pieces, your hardwork spilling onto the once clean floor. The Magicam monsters offered nothing more than an insincere apology before immediately walking away, adding it wasn’t their fault they didn’t notice you.

Jade was passing by as he immediately recognized you at first glance. He was quick to scoop you up into his arms, a rare look of distress on his face as he tried to dry your teary face. “Little one, what’s the matter?”

You sniffled as you tried to explain what transpired, how you excitedly rushed to find him to show him your terrarium you worked hard on, which was currently a mess on the alchemy room floor.

Oh my, the merman thought. This won’t do. As an older brother, Jade felt a responsibility to teach you a very important lesson. One’s deeds does not go unrepaid in turn

Floyd and Azul had to shush you as you, a true Leech, giggled watching the looks of fear painted on the poor unfortunate souls as they ran for their lives out from the alchemy room, away from Jade’s especially frightening surprise appearance.

All for the fun of Halloween, of course. Not because they dared to do wrong to Jade’s dear little eel.

“You would like to play with me today? Of course, I cannot think of a better way to spend the day.”

BONUS Floyd and Jade’s Birthday Special

“Happy birthday, big brothers!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, throwing handfuls of confetti as high as you could to cover the pillars you call your siblings. The twins chuckled over your silliness, respectively giving their thanks.

“Thanks, kiddo!”

“Thank you, little one”

Smiling, you brought out another surprise. In your hidden hands, you held two small boxes, wrapped in ribbons matching the colors of your brothers’ dorm.

“Open them, quick!” Handing it over, your brothers obeyed your wishes. Afterall, you were the few in the world that the eels would willingly listen to.

Cradled carefully in cushioned cloth, a small keychain sat comfortably in the box. One for each brother, there was a glass sculpture of a moray eel attached to the keychain, one with a basketball by its side and the other with a cute mushroom.

Floyd and Jade stood in silence as they admired the gift, clearly made with them in mind. For the final surprise, you took out your phone where a matching keychain dangled from its case. However, your moray eel sculpture was decorated with two hearts, representing your brothers, next to it.

“I made it near the lava flows on the sea floors” you smiled brightly, hoping your brothers liked them. It was hard enough to try glass blowing but you had to find glass materials that work well underwater. But it was worth it. “I wanted to give you something to remind you of home. Where I’ll always be waiting for you two”

Needless to say, Floyd and Jade were satisfied with your gift. Even after you went home, Floyd was bragging about how adorable you were as he showed it off to everybody while Jade was suddenly pulling out his phone more than usual throughout the day, just to see your present every single time.

[loki-cees-all]

Hello and hi, my lovely!

I have this scenario for you that I sometimes think about.

How would Loki react if you (the mortal he might have feelings for but he’s not quite certain yet) were the only one to acknowledge his birthday? Maybe you put up a few balloons and even buy him a little cupcake with a candle on it? How would he react?

Happiest of birthdays to you! You’re a joy to know!! I love you!! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Cupcake For a God {Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader

Summary : Loki’s birthday is approaching, and it forces himself to reconcile who he wants to be versus who he actually is, and to reflect on his almost certainly unrequited feelings for you.

But what if the feelings weren’t unrequited?

W/c : 1.9k words

Content/Warnings : Angst, a bit of fluff

Author's Note : I swear I tried so hard to make this not so angsty! Please forgive me, Saz! 😭😭😭

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ──  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

There were a lot of things for Loki to dislike about living on Midgard. 

For starters, he was being forced to live there, inside Stark Tower with the other Avengers as penance for his crimes. It was only fitting, they’d told him, that he should assist in their efforts to keep the mortals safe because he was the reason they needed protecting in the first place.

Loki didn’t bother telling them what Thanos had done to him after he fell from the Bifrost; truthfully, he still didn’t quite understand it himself. That entire year was a blur to him - a painful concoction of lies and manipulations and tears and blood that left him unable to tell the difference between fact and fiction, even almost two years after the torture had began. 

He didn’t want anyone to know how weak he was, about how much he’d lost himself. If they knew how vulnerable he was, they might decide he wasn’t worth the trouble and send him to the dungeons of Asgard instead. 

Another thing he disliked was the forced pleasantries and unnecessary rituals humans had developed with each other, and by extension, him. The humans would smile as they past him by on the street, but it was a falsity every time; the sentiment never reached their eyes, and Loki could smell their fear from several blocks away. 

Loki knew they didn’t actually care how his day was going, that their concern only went as far as making sure he wasn’t on the verge of invading with another alien force under his command. He wasn’t, but honestly, if it meant everyone kept their distance, then he wasn’t going to argue with it. 

It wasn’t fair to say that Loki preferred being alone, but he was certainly used to it, and that was in direct contradiction of the forced socialization he had to endure on Midgard - press conferences, team building exercises (which Loki believed was just an excuse to consume copious amounts of food and drink), training sessions, something called “movie nights”, and missions across the world to dismantle S.H.I.E.L.D.’s various bunkers and bases. 

It was so much talking, and even more listening. So much lying and pretending that everything was fine, that Loki didn’t feel like a caged monster, and that everyone else wasn’t waiting for the littlest thing to completely set him off. 

But Loki was trying as hard as he could to ignore the dull ache that haunted his dreams and every waking moment. He knew he had hurt people, he knew he needed to make up for his grievous transgressions, but he didn’t know how else to make up for it all. So he pressed on, through the discomfort and awkwardness, in the hope that one day everything might become a little easier.

The one bright side to all of this, the one shimmering ray of light amidst the sea of gray, was you. Loki didn’t quite know what to make of his attraction to you - was it real, or was it just your absence of fear in his presence? Had it just been too long since he’d felt the touch of another, or were you actually everything he’d ever wanted?

Loki almost didn’t want to find out, in case it wasn’t real. Because your smile reached your eyes every time you looked at him, and your laughter was like sparks blowing across the embers of a dying fire…but he couldn’t shake the fear that it could just be another trick. 

Perhaps his mind still hadn’t fully recovered from Thanos’ torture. Maybe Thor had put you up to this, as a way of making assimilation easier for him. 

Because why else would you look at him like that? Why would you go out of your way to sit next to him during the team’s movie nights? Why else would you lean towards him on the couch and fall asleep against the shoulder of a villain, of a monster, of a fool? 

It was stupid, and pointless, and illogical, and just like him to irrationally want something he couldn’t ever have. He was a God, and you were a mortal, and it would ultimately end in heartache either way. So while he had the chance, Loki forced himself to remain content and to just linger in the question of what if you could want him too. 

The final thing about Midgard, and the one he despised the most, was the mortal obsession with birthdays. Loki was grateful the Asgardians never paid any attention to such silly and exhausting traditions - which was surprising, considering how much Asgardians loved frivolity. 

So he really shouldn’t have been shocked when Thor discovered, and subsequently fell in love with, the concept of birthdays. His brother immediately requested his mortal companion Jane to perform the necessary calculations to determine the Midgardian equivalent of Thor’s birthdate - and Loki’s as well, which his brother gleefully announced to the entire team and embarrassed him to the deepest pits of his soul. 

A massive celebration was planned for Thor, with enough food and drink to sustain a small country, and on the special night, flashing lights and loud music bathed the massive common room of Stark Tower in merriment and laughter. Everyone was invited, and it would have been rude for Loki to not make an appearance - but it wasn’t because he wanted to admire you in your party dress, although that was a very lovely bonus. 

But as gorgeous as you looked - the longer the party went on, the sadder Loki became. Everyone was talking, smiling, and dancing, congratulating Thor on his many accomplishments and swapping happy stories of all the good times they’d had together. It was painful to witness, to know for a fact that no such party would be happening for himself when his birthday rolled around. 

Loki tried telling himself that he didn’t want it, and that he’d be miserable during it. He tried convincing himself that it would be too loud, and too bawdy, and vain, and that he didn’t need other people’s reassurances that they were happy he was there with them. He told himself he didn’t need it at all, that he was completely fine without it. But it was a lie, so of course it didn’t work. 

As the days approached to Loki’s birthday, he became even more withdrawn than usual. With the exceptions of necessary missions or training, he stopped leaving his room. He was silent during travel on the Quinjet, and refused your invitations to further movie nights, even though the disappointment on your face ripped him apart in ways he’d never experienced before. 

He felt like he deserved to suffer, to collapse in on himself like a dying star because he knew he’d never be worthy of the love and attention his older brother seemed to collect so effortlessly. It wasn’t Thor’s fault; it was just Loki’s lot in life. And the further he receded, the more likely his heartache would be justified, and he couldn’t be surprised if he was already disappointed.

The evening of his birthday was the worst night he’d experienced in a long time, not since the day he let go of the Bifrost. Loki didn’t even come out of his room for dinner that night, choosing instead to feast on pain, and anguish, and regret, and all the feelings he hadn’t ever had the time to process over his thousand years of existence. 

Thor tried several times to lure him out of his room, to no avail. Loki wouldn’t leave - no, he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t bring himself to witness the fact that they’d done nothing special for him, even though he’d be furiously uncomfortable if they did. 

As the hours passed, he tried to distract himself with sleep, and then reading, but neither did the trick. Eventually, he curled up on the window seat of his private quarters, wrapped himself in furs and pressed his forehead against the glass, watching the tiny little mortals going about their nights in blissful ignorance of the god suffering fifty floors above them. 

And Loki was so lost that he could barely respond to the cautious knock on his door, the one that threatened to pull him away from his misery. But his heart leapt in his throat when he heard your voice calling his name, and he wanted so much to let you in, to feel you next to him. 

But the urge to say something cruel, to push you away and continue on alone, was just as strong. Loki didn’t know which to concede to, even as his feet slowly carried him to the door. He didn’t know what he was going to say, even while his fingers raked through his messy curls and rubbed the pain from his eyes. 

He felt ridiculous as he hesitated to open the door; he was a God, and once the most fearsome villain this entire planet had ever seen - but here he was, nervous and split open and too raw to simply open a door and look upon a beautiful woman while he was hiding away from his birthday. 

There was a soft rustling sound on the other side of the door, and Loki’s forehead rested against the wood as he heard your footsteps quietly retreating down the hallway. He’d waited too long, paralyzed by his self-indulgent indecision, and it had pushed you away. 

He thought about yanking the door open and calling after you. He considered begging for you to come back. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around you and to pull you closer, but all he could manage was to gently pull the door open after he was sure you were gone. 

On the floor of the hallway, waiting patiently and comfortably for him, was a beautifully-decorated cupcake and a note resting on a small paper plate. A single candle rose out of the emerald and sapphire swirls of frosting, and the pink paper was folded in half, with his name written in the loveliest cursive on the outside. 

Loki fought back tears as he retrieved the gift from the floor, and he cautiously balanced the plate in one hand while holding the note in the other. 

Hey Loki,

I know birthdays are hard; they’re hard for me too. But hopefully this treat makes you smile, even just for a second. 

I’ll be awake for a little while longer - stop by my room if you need to talk. I promise I won’t find it weird :) 

XOXO

P.S. I’m really glad you’re here, even if you’re not ready to accept that yet. 

He swallowed hard as he stared at the most generous gift he’d ever received. He didn’t know if you even fully understood what you’d just done for him. He fervently wanted to go after you, and he desperately wanted to continue hiding. 

But you’d extended an invitation, one he could feasibly take you up on. No one would argue it wasn’t in his right to do so. And Gods above, he wanted to, more than anything else he’d ever wanted. But would it be worth it, or would it just make everything worse? 

Loki tore his damp and heavy eyes away from the note and glanced up and down the hallway. He shut his door, just as quietly as he’d opened it, wondering if it would be a mistake to allow his heart guide him to where he’d rather be. 

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ──  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Click here to be added to my Loki fic tag list! 💚

[leonslutkennedeeznuts]

Lovin' Your Skin | Tattoo Artist!Leon x Fem!Reader

"With that, Leon flexed his arms so you could get a better look. He was covered in ink. You wanted to spend all day and night tracing your fingers over the works of art inked onto his skin, hearing his stories about what each tattoo represented." (AO3) | Tattoo Artist Leon credit:  tanya.gavva

You didn’t even want a tattoo but you figured it wouldn’t be that bad. Your pain tolerance was low, you weren’t 100% certain the design you’d picked would look good on your skin forever but Leon was sooo gorgeous. Just to be near him in the tattoo parlor for a few hours would make everything so worth it. Or so you’d thought.

Leon was covered in tattoos. He had sleeves on both arms and you could see the beginning of a neck piece as you stole a few glances at him here and there. He was so focused the few times you’d gone by the shop to watch him work. He was your friend’s tattoo artist. This was all her fault really. Months ago she’d asked you to come by with her for yet another tattoo and when you’d seen the blonde haired beauty of a man who did the work, you were head over heels.

“Name’s Leon,” he’d said as he shook your hand.

Leon. A name you wanted to be screaming every night.

“What makes you want a tattoo,” he’d asked you as your friend checked out her finished piece in the mirror behind him. “It can be addicting, I must warn you.”

You didn’t want a tattoo. You wanted him. Same difference.

“Always thought about it,” you lied, awkwardly laughing. You hoped he couldn’t read the lust on your face as you caught a glimpse of him licking his lips. “Yours look really cool, very intricate.”

With that, Leon flexed his arms so you could get a better look. He was covered in ink. You wanted to spend all day and night tracing your fingers over the works of art inked onto his skin, hearing his stories about what each tattoo represented.

“Wow,” you whispered, stepping closer to get a better look. “You did these all yourself?”

Leon shook his head. “Most but not all. Couldn’t reach my back but I designed that piece myself.” He winked at you before asking. “You want to see it?”

It was pathetic how fast you shook your head yes. Leon’s body was a work of art in itself. He made a little show of taking his shirt off for you, your friend laughing and shaking her head in the background still eying her own ink. How she was immune to Leon’s charm and sex appeal was beyond you.

Leon had a rose tattoo that started the sleeve on his right shoulder, in honor of his grandmother he’d said, that led into abstract shapes, you spied a spiderweb on his elbow and even a sea turtle on his inner arm, an Eagle on his neck- you stopped trying to decipher everything and started to take in the view of his abs. He’d been getting tattooed since his 21st birthday, something he’d done with his friends on a drunken dare after failing out of the police academy but quickly discovered his love of the profession.

After opening his first tattoo shop at 27, he started designing and doing his own tattoos as best as he could to promote his business. Now he was booked up months in advance. He always made time for your friend though.

His chest wasn’t covered yet, he’d mentioned thinking of leaving that bare for now. You imagined how your hands would rest perfectly on his pecs as you rode him into oblivion.

Leon caught you staring, you weren’t really hiding it. You wondered if he was tatted up from the waist down as well, how your untouched flesh would look against his in the heat of passion, how you wanted his name breathlessly leaving your lips-

“Do you want a tattoo, seriously?” Your friend’s voice cut through the sexual tension like a knife. “I think she’s lying, Leon.”

“No, I’m serious! I do want one. I have a Pinterest board of ideas,” you spat out hurriedly. “Here,” you said, lifting up your sleeve to show the spot on your wrist where you wanted to be inked.

Leon, still shirtless, took your wrist into his hands, eying it and you. “A wrist tat, hmm? I’d be honored to be your first,” he’d simply stated. Still shirtless. Still eyeing you in disbelief.

If he wanted to call your bluff, so be it as long as he was calling you.

“Yep and maybe a neck one too, ya know, one that people can’t see unless I wear my hair up.”

Your friend rolled her eyes and began to grab her purse and car keys. From what you’d seen her tattoo was beautiful, a bright Koi fish on her left shoulder to match the aquatic sleeve she was getting done eventually.

“I will believe it when I see it, Y/N. Don’t waste Leon’s time just because you think he’s hot,” she chided jokingly as she went to the door.

Leon put his tank top back on and handed you one of his business cards, letting his fingers linger on yours for a bit too long to be an accident.

“Well, Y/N, if you’re serious here’s my contact information. I don’t have any openings really in the next few months but text me and I will see what I can do for you.” He winked at you again. “Want to see this Pinterest board of yours.”

“Oh, right, totally! I’ll send you the link.” Great, now you had to create a Pinterest board of tattoos that you hoped Leon thought were cool. Your eyes lingered to the perfect pout of his lips then to his cerulean eyes. “I can’t wait to set up my appointment with you, Leon.”

You weren’t planning to actually get a tattoo. You just wanted a way to talk to him really and the guy owned a tattoo shop, clearly that was something he was passionate about. What better way to get his attention than to get him to tattoo you himself? Right?

—-------

It was Leon that actually called you first.

After that evening in his shop, you realized that if you did reach out to him that it would be obvious you weren’t really serious about all this. You were sure women flocked at him all the time with lies about tattoos to get him in their bed. You wouldn’t be the first.

Your friend was no help. She claimed that Leon either had a girlfriend already or was hooking up with a fellow artist at another shop.

“Her name starts with J, I think,” she’d said deep in thought. “Or maybe it’s the redhead biker chick from that bar.”

But you forgot all about that when you got a call from an unknown number a few days later.

“Leon?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he confirmed with a slight chuckle. “I never heard back from you about the tattoo, was wondering if you changed your mind about seeing me.”

You always wanted to see him. From the few times you’d met he had an effect on you but he was a huge flirt. Maybe he was just trying to get a new client aka more money, nothing personal.

“Oh, I- the tattoo,” you sighed and decided to come clean. “Look, Leon, I don’t know about that anymore.”

“Understandable, I honestly figured as much.” You heard some faint background noise of a horror movie playing in the background. Seems like he was home alone on a Friday night too.

“Well, in the spirit of being honest, Y/N, I was hoping to just see you again. Tattoo or not.”

You almost dropped your phone in shock. You didn’t know what you thought Leon’s type was but it definitely wasn’t you. He seemed like a total badass, a bad boy. You were a goody two shoes overachiever working a boring 9-5 while Leon was a daredevil risk taker.

Plus you were pretty sure Leon was a little over six years older than you. Which made his admission all the more arousing. You couldn’t help the throbbing you felt between your legs now.

“Cat got your tongue,” he teased, clearly enjoying this.

“No, I’m just kind of shocked,” you admitted. “I didn’t think I was your type really.”

You thought back to the women your friend had mentioned Leon dated. You’d seen them both in passing, looked nothing like you (or one another) but they were gorgeous. You felt so basic by comparison.

Leon was silent for a bit, you almost thought he’d hung up before you heard him clear his throat. “Hmm, how about I take you out tomorrow night and show you how much of my type you are?”

It was a date.

—-------

You don’t know exactly how this happened. One minute you were agreeing to let Leon walk you to your apartment door and the next he had you wet and begging for him to fuck you, his lips on your neck definitely leaving hickeys for everyone to see that you were his. The date had gone very well to your surprise and now it was about to get even better.

First thing you noticed about Leon was that he was an amazing kisser. His hands were feeling you up all over, just enough to get you hot and bothered and leaning into his embrace silently begging for more. He sucked your tongue and grinded into you, almost dry humping on the couch before you couldn’t take anymore and told him where your bedroom was.

Leon was an animal in bed and yet still a total gentleman, which you kind of expected but nothing prepared you for the real thing. He didn’t have tattoos from the waist down, and yes you looked quite thoroughly while you were down there with his dick sliding down your throat.

You’d never enjoyed giving head before tonight, before you’d met Leon and heard his whispers, groans and moans as you sucked him. At this angle, he was able to play with your pussy and rub your clit as you licked his pre-cum covered tip before attempting to deep throat him again.

“Fuck, Y/N, so good, you’re such a good girl,” he moaned. He slipped a finger, then another into your wet pussy. “Mmm, so tight, baby.”

You couldn’t talk if you wanted to with him so deep in your mouth but you moaned around his cock, causing him to cuss under his breath and pull out completely, not wanting to cum just yet. He rubbed his shaft on your swollen lips, your mouth almost desperately trying to suck him back in.

Leon took his fingers out of your pussy and sucked on them. “Gonna enjoy eating you out,” he whispered, kissing his way down to finally taste you. “I won’t stop until you cum.”

You could’ve finished right then and there just hearing him say that. When his tongue licked your center then up to your clit, you almost screamed. It felt so good, too good. You didn’t think you were going to last long at all. Seeing Leon’s gorgeous flush face clearly enjoying the taste of you was already too much and he’d only just started.

He held you by the back of your knees, pressing them into your chest as he licked, sucked and ate you like a man starving. You’d never cum from this before, never had someone so into it. You were squirming and bucking into his mouth earning more moans from him. When his tongue dipped into your pussy you did scream, his name leaving your lips over and over as you squealed and released onto his tongue.

“Leon, I’m cumming,” you whined in an almost broken voice, your toes curling and your eyes rolling back into your head. “Oh fuck, too much,” you begged, trying to wiggle out of his grasp to no avail as he kept licking you, refusing to waste a drop of your cum. “Leon, please.”

When Leon said he wouldn’t stop until you came, what he really meant was that he wouldn’t stop until you came twice. Despite the cramp in your legs you gripped his blond hair so hard you knew it was painful for him but he didn’t seem to mind, sucking and tonguing your pussy with more vigor than before.

He slid two fingers back into your pussy and you almost accidentally kicked him due to overstimulation. You were almost boohoo crying as Leon was just eating you out without a care in the world. You had no idea what you’d do when he finally fucked you, your nails clawing up his tattooed back leaving your own imprint on his skin even if it didn’t last forever.

Leon moaned and hummed against your cunt knowing how close you were again already. “Cum for me again, Y/N.” After a few more thrusts of his fingers against your g-spot you were seeing stars. “Now.”

This time you were sure the neighbors heard you. You’d be embarrassed at how pitiful you sounded later because right now you were in the throes of passion. Leon held you down with no effort as your body jerked and bucked against his eager mouth.

Nobody had ever made you cum this hard, reducing you into a blubbering mess, begging Leon to fuck you as your sweet cum covered his mouth and jaw.

“Holy shit,” you managed to breathe out when he finally freed you from his grasp. You didn’t know if you were floating or still laying on the bed at this point. If he told you it was Christmas day you’d believe him, your mind was so frazzled. “Fucking Christ, Leon.”

His Cheshire cat grin appeared above you, eying you with pure lust and pride. Leon had never been with someone so vocal before, it definitely stroked his ego.

“Believe me now?” Leon didn’t wait for you to respond before rubbing the tip of his cock against your almost sore clit.

“How about now,” he teasingly asked before slapping his shaft on your pussy.

He was so hard, almost painfully so. He’d wanted you since the first time you’d met but figured you weren’t into guys with tattoos. Go figure.

“Leon, please, just fuck me already,” you begged. You arched your back into his embrace, staring into his eyes as kept teasing you. “I’ll believe you when you fuck me.”

You knew Leon wasn’t going to be a missionary kind of guy, nothing wrong with that position but after having it so often with your lackluster ex, you wanted something a bit more. Being folded like a pretzel on the edge of your bed as Leon slid into you, his thick cock hitting that spot inside of you that had you whimpering- just what the doctor ordered.

With a pillow under your head you had the perfect view to watch Leon fuck you hard, deep and fast. Your slick was covering his cock, the sounds of your wetness and his balls slapping against your ass the soundtrack of your fuck session as the mattress creaked underneath you.

He was caressing your bouncing tits, squeezing and pinching your hard nipples just enough to keep you on edge but not enough to push you over just yet. You could barely decipher what you were even saying, just heavy breathing, squeaking and squealing Leon’s name over and over, praising and thanking him.

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart,” you heard him whisper above you. Leon was in awe at the sight of your tight, little pussy creaming on his cock. He made sure to get you nice and wet so you could take him all without pain. “Fuck, Y/N, I want to fill you up.”

You gripped his tattooed arms to stay grounded to reality as your orgasm crept up on you, trying to memorize every piece of ink on his flesh in case this was a one time thing- in case you were actually dreaming and he wasn’t really here with you.

“Yeah, cum in me, Leon,” you heard yourself saying. It was like an out of body experience. You honestly felt like you’d disintegrate when you finally came on his fat dick. “It’s your pussy, baby. Only yours.”

Leon thrust into you slowly as you both came hard, bodies shaking and aching as you messily kissed one another, hands roaming all over while Leon grunted and came inside of you. You made sure to rub and caress his back as he did so, enjoying how he gave into your embrace as he filled you up until his cum began dripping out.

You still weren’t sold on getting a tattoo any time soon but dating a tattoo artist who was a beast in bed wasn’t the worst thing ever, you figured as sleep took over you both.

[kykyonthemoon]

Where The Ocean Whispers

Happy Rafayel's Day!

𓇼— The Lemurians use special seashells to transmit messages from their heart to one another. Would you like to try?

𓇼— Soft fluff, birthday fluff, confession

𓇼— Masterlist

𓇼— Request a fic

The waves brought layers of white foam to the shore, erasing the intertwined footprints, sand arches and tiny seashells covering two pairs of bare feet almost touching each other. Then, as if to wash away every worry, the cold water faded, leaving behind nothing except a sense of calm and coolness, with a sense of longing for the next wave. The crimson sun glistened well below the horizon, akin to a priceless ruby gradually sinking to the ocean floor.

"Look over there. The sea is swallowing your sun!”

A long finger of his gestured forward. Your gaze followed as you smiled. He was still reminded of the narrative you told about your childhood when you thought that every night, the sun would sink into the sea and rest.

“Now the whole ocean will be warmed, in red and orange, right?” You replied. That was what he said after hearing your story. He seemed so happy and content that you could still remember it and recite every word.

“Maybe we can't paint the sea the color of the sun,” your voice continued, “But we can do this…”

All of a sudden, you hurled water high with your foot. The cool water reached him, splashing a bit on his white shirt. He rolled his eyes at you.

“So you do enjoy being playful like this?”

He bent down, gathered the entire ocean in his hands then flung it in your direction. Like a very gentle wave, seawater fell on your hair and light garment.

After the celebration was over, he and you raced outside to catch the sunset over the sea, leaving your coats and shoes behind. Both of you were drenched.

"That's not fair!" You gave a loud shout. “Did you do that on purpose?”

With a big chuckle, he answered, "That's what we refer to as the blessing of the sea." You have to accept it all.”

“You are the birthday boy. Here, take it all!”

You kept splashing him with saltwater. He persisted nonetheless. Before long, your entire bodies was soaked.

“That's enough, Rafayel. I give up!”

You surrendered by raising both hands. You felt a bit chilled by the breeze. Rafayel hauled you right up to the shore. You had no idea when he had a big towel ready there. He wrapped it around you.

“Hurry. Dry yourself.”

You obediently did as told. Then you gave him another glance. Water dripped from his dark purple curls, framing his small, flawless face. You couldn't take your eyes off the damp shirt that adhered to his body, exposing lines that made you flush. Rafayel took one look at you and immediately covered himself with both hands.

“I'm aware that my beauty can stun others. But if you keep staring at me like that, it would not be proper anymore."

You hid your embarrassed face behind the cotton towel. With a smile, Rafayel enquired:

"So? Do you want to go back inside?”

You gave him a firm shake of your head. “I want to stay here a little longer.”

Not that Rafayel objected. He accompanied you on your beach stroll. You remained quiet. You did not want to go back partly because you could not bear to see the day ended.

It was Rafayel's birthday. You had carefully prepared for an intimate party, with only a few people from his studio and family members attending. You personally made the cake for him and prepared everything yourself. But your heart was still restless as you kept carrying the feeling that this was not enough. You had yet to give him what he truly needed.

You continued to ponder. Rafayel needed what? He was wealthy and famous. He was exceptionally gifted, and he may have lived an extended lifespan. Giving something to someone who has had everything is impossible. If you could give him your heart, you would do so. In a symbolic sense.

Between you and Rafayel was a feeling without a name.

You started off as merely his reluctant bodyguard, someone to take care of his errands. You were not sure when exactly, but the image of him planted roots in your mind like the way he frequently appeared in front of you, provoking you. He was adorable and obnoxious all at once. Although he posed a threat, being around him gave you a sense of security. But you never, ever dared to speak it aloud. Perhaps you were afraid. You feared that the relationship would fizzle out like sea foam the moment you began seeking to give it a name. You made an effort to suppress that emotion, but it kept returning, much like waves finding their way back to the shore.

"What's off?" Rafayel enquired. He came to a stop. His expression was undoubtedly showing concern.

"I'm alright." You dismissed him with a shake of your head. Your heart raced whenever you were close to him. The feeling of being on cloud nine, at the same time realizing that a bottomless black hole was waiting at your feet made you about to lose your mind. You hated this feeling, yet also addicted to it. Like the way you were addicted to his very existence. Perfect like a dream.

His cool hand was placed on your forehead. He frowned and said:

“It seems your temperature is a bit high.”

You retreated a step, rejecting his touch. It was as if there was poison from his body that would seep into your heart, and you would drive yourself to a slow death if you could not touch him again.

“I'm fine.” With a resolute reply, you took a seat on the sand, a little wet from the waves. “I'm just a little tired… Let me sit here for a bit…”

Rafayel looked at you with a puzzled expression. He was curious to know what else you were planning to do. But you hid your face in the white towel. He sighed.

"I'll go fetch you some exquisite seashells then. Maybe it will make you feel better.”

You gave a little nod, glancing at Rafayel's back as it absorbed the last bit of sunlight on a peaceful day. This scene was a bit familiar, like the first time you had by chance met him on the street.

Rafayel knelt to get something that the waves had just carried. He held it tenderly in his palm, studied it for a moment, and then came over to you.

“Look what I've just found.” A fairly large shell weaved together in shades of orange-red and ivory-white was what he held out in front of you. You had never seen a shell with such a special hue like this before.

"So beautiful!" You exclaimed as Rafayel plopped down next to you on the sand. Your heart raced again as he sat so near.

“You know, the Lemurians often use shells like this to transmit messages to each other.”

He twisted it in his hand to examine it more closely before placing it in your palm.

“Do you want to give it a shot?”

You raised the shell quite a bit. Its hue was nearly identical to that of the horizon's sunset. You said:

“Show me how to do it.”

“Just tell the seashell what you want to say the most right now.”

“Is that all?”

“Yup. That's all. But what you say to it must come from the heart. It will find the person whom you want to send this to, no matter where they are.”

You looked at Rafayel. He appeared so honest, but this story was too much of a fairy tale and not very realistic. You did not know if he was just making this up to tease you. Then again, you once thought the Lemurians never existed. But here he was, sitting next to you.

You put the seashell to your lips, gave him another glance, and then murmured something to it.

Once you were done, you gave it to Rafayel.

“It's yours.”

His lips curled into a dazzling smile, as though he knew you would give it back to him.

“Hmmm.” Rafayel took the shell and leaned it close to his ear. He gestured as if he was concentrating hard to listen. Then he said with disappointment evident on his face: “I don't hear any message.”

"What? How is that possible?" You were impatient.

“Do you want to try again?”

He returned the shell to your hand. This time, you took a deep breath and looked at him while whispering your thoughts.

“Still nothing.” After listening to it for a second time, Rafayel said. “Are you sure you sent the message with all your heart?”

You replied sullenly: "Of course... Maybe since I'm not a Lemurian, I can't make it work."

Rafayel held your hand and put the shell in it. “Try it once more?”

"I doubt that anything will be different this time around." You gazed at the shell in your hand with boredom. “I was just going to… give you one more gift to make your birthday special…”

“My day is already quite special.” Rafayel's bright smile made the distant sunset dim, and suddenly you caught his warmth. “Thank you so much, for organizing a party for me. To be honest, though, I don't like partying as much as going to the sea with you like this."

Listening to his words, you found yourself smiling. You took off the towel that was wrapped around you, letting it fall freely onto the sand. You held the brilliant seashell in your hands, this time determined to let him hear your heart out.

Rafayel nodded and smiled at you as encouragement. You closed your eyes tightly, and lips slightly parted. You had a feeling that it could read my thoughts whether you said them out loud or not.

I really like, really like, really like Rafayel.

I like the way you concentrate when holding a paintbrush, as if the whole world is spread out before your eyes.

I like your terrified look when surrounded by cats.

I like it when you overdo things or act like a drama queen just to get my attention.

I like the bright colors you paint in my sky when it's gray.

I like the way you tease and then comfort me.

I like how your gentle touches are enough to keep me up at night.

I like everything about you.

Maybe, I love you, Rafayel. So much.

The shell was brought towards Rafayel, but halted midway. You wavered. Once he knew your feelings, would he still be by your side? Or would he throw this shell into the ocean along with your heart, letting it dissolve into bubbly white foam?

Rafayel looked at you and smiled. Even though he had laughed many times, you'd never seen him as happy as he was at that moment. There was an increased shine in his eyes, as if pearls were rising to the surface and ready to burst out the corners of his eyes. Happiness. You had never captured such a genuine moment of pure happiness like this.

He took the shell from your hand, but there was no need to listen to it anymore. He leaned closer to you and whispered:

“The words from your heart have been received by the person you wanted to send them to… You have no idea how long he waited just to hear those words… I love you too. So much."

When you felt soft lips touching yours, little did you know; that Lemurian man had heard what you said the first time he put his ear to the shell. He merely wanted to hear it one more time, and another. He wanted to hear you confess being able to confess to you; this day, the day after, and the day after that...

Until the ocean runs dry.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Birthday Buddies - Max Verstappen

<word count - 3009>

"OK Maxie, here you go," you said, handing him the envelope with his name scrawled on the front. "Thank you, my love," he smiled, running his fingers under the flap to open it. He eyed you suspiciously as he didn't see a card in the envelope, instead seeing a folded piece of paper. 

Unfolding it, he saw the words written on the page. 'Max, as you know, today is your birthday! You're 26, and have already achieved so much, and I am so proud of you! To find your gift, you have to use your brain a bit... So, your first clue is the place we went on our first date,'

"Making me use my brain... Honestly, my love?" he sighed.

"Yes, now, take me to where we had our first date," you smugly smirked. Max figured he may as well play along. You had planned it all out, and he already knew you had put a lot of effort into it. Plus, it was your birthday too, so he had to listen to you just as much as you listened to him. 

"OK, OK, follow me," Max smiled, taking your hand and leading you out of your apartment. He took you through the winding streets of Monaco, the sun slowly setting over the city. You arrived outside of a small cafe that he took you to, because it was out of the way of the world and you could get to know each other, without the prying eyes of the world on you. 

"Good job Max, you have unlocked the next clue!" You smiled, handing him another, identical envelope as he opened it. "So you could just let me skip straight to the end, but you're choosing not to?" 

"Where's the fun in that? I thought it would be fun to take a trip down memory lane," you said, the both of you remembering the magic that was your first night out. Max thought it was a nice idea, since you had done a lot together since you had started going out, and these were definitely some of his favourites. 

He thought he had blown it after your first date, since he was a stuttering, babbling mess due to how much he liked you. He could barely hold a conversation without being gobsmacked that you were there with him. 

He just couldn't get over how much he liked you, but he thought he had ruined any chances with you. Little did he know, you found it endearing how nervous he was. "Yeah, I guess it is fun," he nodded, unfolding the next piece of paper. 

'Well done, but you're not quite near the finish line yet. Next spot: Where did we have our first kiss?' he read outloud. "You really have to make this a bit harder, these are too easy," he shook his head, taking your hand again. 

It wasn't too far away from the cafe, and it was out on the marina. Some of the boats had their lights on, and the buildings behind you were also lighting up. "You're not in the right spot, hang on," he said, placing his hands on the sides of your arms and shifting you so you were stood by the exact palm tree on the marina yacht club walk. 

"There, we are in the perfect spot," he said, standing in front of you. He remembered gazing at you as you looked out on all of the boats, your eyes glittering under the marina lights. You were entranced by the way the sea sparkled, and how the boats gently bobbed on the surface of the water. 

There was no resisting the urge to kiss you when you noticed him staring, and it was the best decision he had ever made. He drowned in the feeling of holding you close, getting to have his lips against yours. It was like sparks flew whenever he touched you. 

"Yes we are, meaning you get the next clue," you smiled, the memories making you feel drunk with happiness. "OK, this is kind of a two in one," you told him, fishing the next envelope out of your bag. 

'You can't have possibly forgotten this one, because I know I can't, and I don't think you'll ever let me! Take me to the first place that you told me you love me...' he read, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Oh I will never forget this one," he smiled, grabbing your arm.

You were almost reluctant to put this as a clue, since it was a bittersweet memory. Max had taken you to the most beautiful restaurant you had ever seen, and it was still one you frequented now. 

Then, he had taken you on a short walk around the streets of Monaco, before stopping you at a bench by the sea. He was so nervous, since he was about to tell you his feelings. You, on the other hand, were nervous because you were sure you were going to throw up. 

You had felt off all day, but you weren't going to cancel on Max, so you just grinned and bore it. But now, your actions were proving to have consequences. As Max stopped you by the bench, you remembered every little detail of the events that unfolded.

He sat you down, just like he did two years ago, and took your hands. As the both of you thought back to that night, it was as if it were yesterday. Max looked beyond nervous as he looked at you, terrified you weren't going to feel the same way.

Current Max started to stutter, reenacting the moment. "So, Y/N, I... Uhm-" he fumbled, jittering around just like he did. "I love you," he blurted out, and you could have sworn you were back there. "I-" you started, before turning around and pretending to wretch into the bin behind you. 

In the memory, Max didn't care that he could have just ruined everything and simultaneously embarrassed himself, he just cared that you were OK. He rushed to your side, before sitting you back down. 

Now, he said the exact same line he had said, "Me saying I love you wasn't that bad, was it?" he said, and it caused a smile to form on your face both times. "I do love you Max, I just feel awful," you said, leaning into him like you always did.

"That was a weird night," he smiled.

"It was. I was surprised you still loved me after that one, it was the worst timing possible," you laughed, looking at his dazzling smile. "I couldn't fall out of love with you for something so small, I was just relieved you felt the same, my love," he said, waiting for the next clue.

"Next up, the penultimate clue," you said, handing him the final of the normal envelopes for the night. 'Since it's your birthday, it wouldn't be a birthday treasure hunt without sending you to the place where we found out we have the same birthday!' 

"This has been the easiest treasure hunt I have ever been on," he smirked, walking off and expecting you to follow him. You had picked all the spots quite close together, so that you wouldn't have to walk too far. 

"OK, here we are," he said, just stopping in the middle of the street. It had simply come up in conversation when you were walking and talking, and the two of you were both shocked, but also excited. 

Ever since, you both went all out to have the best day the both of you could ask for. "Any reason you sent us here or?" he asked, rocking back and forth on the spot. 

"No, I just thought it was relevant," you shrugged, producing the final envelope of the excursion. "This one might be harder for you, but I don't know," you told him, handing him the golden object. 'Finally, take me to the place where I first fell in love with you,' it said.

Max looked confused, and you could see the cogs turning in his mind. "I would have remembered if you had told me where this was," he said, not moving from the spot as he thought. 

"Would you like a lifeline? You can phone a friend, take the bonus clue, or have me point you in the right direction," you told him. 

"I'll take the bonus clue," he decided, waiting for whatever it was going to be. 

"You have selected: 'Y/N's Bonus Clue!'" you enthusiastically said, revealing a blue envelope with a big, orange question mark adorning the front.  "Thank you, my love," he smiled, opening the envelope and looking more confused. 

'We've already been here today...' he read to you, taking a moment to think. It could have been any of them, really, but he went for the one he thought would be most likely. "OK, follow me," he skeptically said, taking you back to the marina yacht club walk, next to the palm tree where you had shared your first kiss. 

"Unfortunately, that is the first one you have gotten wrong today. You can still use one of your life lines, those being phone a friend or have me point you in the right direction," you told him, glad you hadn't made it too easy on him. "I'll phone a friend," he said.

"Alright then, phone a friend it is," you said, pulling your phone out of your bag and dialing a mystery number. Well, it was a known number, but you had changed the contact name to mystery number. "I thought it was phone a friend?" he said, taking the phone from you. 

"It is," you nodded as if it were obvious, the mystery person picking up on the other end of the line. "Hi, this is Max, I'm doing Y/N's treasure hunt, and I'm stuck on the last clue. I've been told you might be able to help me?" he asked, feeling positively ridiculous. 

"Hi, yes I can," the person tried not to burst out laughing, "You need to take her to the place where you first figured out she was the person you wanted to spend your life with," he laughed, remembering when Max had told him that. He had found it unbelievably cheesy, yet sweet at the same time. 

"OK, thank you Lan- I mean mystery person, I appreciate it," Max giggled, now knowing where to take you. "Right, off we go," he said, leading you to the final destination. He was hoping the mystery person wasn't wrong, because that would be embarrassing. 

"Here we are," he hummed, stopping you back outside the cafe that was your first place. "I think the mystery caller sent me to the wrong place," he sheepishly said, rubbing the back of his neck. Surely you hadn't loved him since your first date, right?

"No, you're at the right spot," you reassured, letting him figure it all out in his head. "What was the clue, Max?" you prompted. 

"The place you first fell in love with me," he recited, the pieces still not fitting together in his mind. "And where are we?"

"The place we had our first date?" he said, and it sounded more like a question due to his unsurity. "Exactly, because I've always loved you. Even if I couldn't put a name to how I felt back then, now I know it was just because I had never loved anyone as much as I love you," you smiled.

"Thank you, my love, that was beautiful," he smiled, trying to contain tears at how much your words had touched him. "As for your gift, it's back at home," you said, and nothing happened. "I said, as for your gift, it's back at home!" you shouted, craning your neck so your voice would carry further around the corner. 

A man appeared from around the corner, a hood pulled up over his eyes. He dropped something by your feet, and you picked it up. "Sorry, excuse me, you dropped this," you said, but the man kept on walking. "Well isn't that strange," you said, handing him the black, leather book that the man had dropped. 

"It is, isn't it?" Max joined in, catching onto the act. He ran opened the cover, immediately realising what this was. It was a photo album, with all the pictures you had taken at those spots you had sent him to today, as well as others from other good times.

He ran his fingers over your features, noting how you hadn't changed at all in the two years you had been together. "There's not much you can do for a man who has it all," you smiled, hoping he liked it. "You're right, I do have it all, I have you," he said, cringing at himself internally.

However, you couldn't hide the goofy smile and blush that tinted your cheeks. "But this is the best gift you could have gotten me besides yourself," he said, flicking through the pages upon pages of memories, forever recorded through colour. 

"I'm glad you like it," you grinned. 

"Now come on, birthday girl, let's get you home," he smiled, tucking the album underneath his arm, looping the other around your waist as he lead you home. When you got to the door of your apartment, you noticed it was open. 

"I swore I locked this when we left..." You said, worried. You didn't want your birthdays to be ruined by someone breaking into your home. "Yeah, you did," he reassured, but he was awful at hiding the smirk on his face. 

Pushing the door open, you saw that the room was lit up in nothing but candles, and relaxing spa music was playing. "I didn't take you to a single spa while we've been globe trotting, so I thought the least you deserved was the at home Spa de Max," he explained, pushing you through the door. 

"Well I already think Spa de Max is better than any spa you could take me anywhere else," you told him, walking into the apartment. "I hope to live up to your expectations, so, go put this on, and your masseuse will be with you when you are ready," he said, handing you a fluffy white robe - just like in a spa. 

"OK," you zealously nodded, excited for what Max had in store. You did just as he had said, changing out of your clothes and into the robe. When you got back out to the living room, you saw the dining room table in the middle of the room, with what looked to be a mattress topper on top.

"Trust me on this, it is actually very comfy," Max said, standing beside the table. "On you get," he told you, and you clambered onto the table. "May I?" he said, slipping his hands into the robe by your shoulders. "Yeah, course," you agreed, letting him slip the soft fabric off your shoulders, and leaving the rest handing on you hips. 

"Lie on your front for me, my love," he said, as you maneuvered onto your front, resting your head on your arms. "Now just close your eyes, and relax," he instructed. Max dabbed some essential oils on his hands, before running them over the span of your back.

As he worked his hands into your muscles, you were trying not to fall asleep. "How did you know we'd be going out?" you asked, wondering how he had managed to sneak someone in to set the house up.

"Because your little helper is also my little helper. He told me we'd be leaving, so I sent him to set all of this up. But, don't worry, he didn't tell me a single detail about what we'd be doing," he reassured you, knowing you wouldn't want the surprise to be ruined.

"Our helper has been a busy boy," you slurred, trying to keep yourself awake by talking. 

"Aww my love, are you tired?" he teased, moving his hands up your neck and across your shoulders. "This is just so nice," you mumbled against your arms.

"Don't fall asleep just yet, you still have a few more experiences in Spa de Max," he said, his hands ceasing their movements. "That'll be hard to beat," you said, sitting up on the table. "Fine, I'll take that as a challenge," he smiled, 

When you stood off the table, Max pulled your robe back up and over your shoulders, tying the belt back up to keep you warm. "Tonight is finally the night I will allow you to put a face mask on me," he said, pushing you onto the couch and sitting next to you. 

"Really?!" You asked, gobsmacked. For some reason, Max had plainly refused to put on a face mask whenever you did, but now was your opportunity. "Yes, anything for the birthday girl," he smiled, even if it was his birthday too. The best gift for him was seeing you happy, after all. 

You tugged your headband out of your hair, slotting it onto his head as his blonde strands were pushed back out of his face. On the coffee table, Max had differents pots of face masks with pre-sliced cucumbers to choose from. "Which one?" he asked.

"I'll go for blue," you nodded as he picked up the blue pot, unscrewing the lid. Max just dipped his fingers in, practically slapping the thick substance onto your face. He slathered it around until he thought he had covered enough of the area. 

"Max, you have put it on so thickly, it'll never dry," you whined, seeing half the container was gone, meaning half was on your face. "Just means you'll be extra refreshed," he smiled, picking up the green pot and handing it to you.

You did the exact same to him, slathering more than two thirds of it onto his face, before trying to put the cucumber slices on his eyes. Before you could, he pulled you in for an affectionate kiss. "Happy birthday, my love," he smiled, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

"Happy birthday to you too, Max, I love you," 

A/N - Happy birthday to Maxie! And to me so I guess that's fun... Have a great day!

|masterlist|

[waitingonher]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ korra and her love languages

i. korra whose love language is physical touch. korra whose love language is physical touch because she finds solace in the warmth of your touch. 

if she could, korra would spend the rest of her life like this, with you nestled in her arms as the sun rises to paint republic city in hues of oranges and pinks. there’s nothing like waking up to a beautiful girl next to a beautiful sunrise. korra lays there silently, playing with a strand of your hair. 

in about an hour, she has to carry the weight of the avatar, but right now in this quiet corner of the world, korra wants nothing more than to just be ‘(y/n)’s girlfriend.’ and so she does. 

her eyes roam over your figure, drinking it all in. how did i get so lucky? from your cascading hair, to your plump lips, to your soft hands that just seem to flawlessy fit in her own, korra never knew it was possible to be this perfect. all her life people have only seen her as just the avatar, but you were the first to see her as just korra. you were the first to treat her as if she wasn’t some expendable end all be all to the world's problems. 

“(y/n),” korra starts, the back of her hand grazing your cheek. her voice is barely above a whisper, “i know i don’t say it as much as i should, but you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. i love you so much and i-”

beep. beep. beep.

“stupid alarm.” she mutters, reaching to shut it off.  

with a soft groan, your eyes flutter open slowly, the warmth of korra's touch lingering on your skin. as consciousness filters in, you feel the strong arms of your girlfriend pulling you close. 

“good morning, baby,” she whispers, placing gentle kisses on your forehead. 

with a contented sigh, you gaze up at korra, smoothing out her tousled hair, “mm, good morning.” 

she chuckles at your groggy voice before placing a final kiss on your crown. making efforts to rise from her position, she untangles herself from the bedsheets, “i’ll get the tea going. we’ve got a busy day ahead of us,” she sighs. 

“korra,” you draw out her name. reaching for her arm, you gently tug on the sleeve of her pajamas, a silent plea for her to stay, “please my love, stay. ten more minutes?” 

you flash her your signature puppydog eyes, your lips pulled downwards, eyes widened. and as easily as that, korra’s resolve falters. how can she say no to you? especially when you look so beautiful, your tired eyes looking up at her so sweetly and your open arms inviting her back to the comfort of your touch. 

“well…” she gives you that saccharine smile you’ve always been fond of, and that’s when you know you’ve got her, “i guess the world can wait another hour for their avatar.” 

and she climbs back into bed.

ii. korra whose love language is quality time. korra whose love language is quality time because amongst all of her avatar duties, she'll always want to come home to you.

the arctic hen sizzles beautifully on the pan as you take in the fragrant aroma of the kitchen. it’s savory from the arctic hen, yet delicately sweet from the cookies in the oven. you dance around, tending to the sea prune stew and seaweed stir fry. checking the clock, it reads 6:46pm, serving as a gentle reminder of korra’s anticipated return by 7:00pm. 

everything is perfect. 

after all, it is korra’s birthday. it has to be perfect. 

you begin plating everything, attempting to replicate the elegant plating from a mover that you had watched over the weekend. a little smear of sauce. some accent dots. and finally…seaweed flakes for garnish. clapping your hands together, you take a step back from the dining room table, admiring your hard work. as if on cue, you hear the front door slide open. 

“babe, i’m home! wow it smells really go-”

“happy birthday, my love!" you exclaim, catching korra off guard as you dash over and envelop her in a tight embrace. stepping back slightly, you tenderly sweep a stray lock of hair behind her ear, your eyes overflowing with affection. leaning in once more, you share a deep, heartfelt kiss, your whispered words carrying the weight of your emotions. "i love you so much, korra.”

she swears she’ll never get used to you doing that, her rapid heartbeat a testament to that. korra chuckles, her hands finding purchase on your waist, “i love you too. now, what smells so good?” 

her gaze wanders the kitchen, taking in the familiar sights, as you gently grasp her hands, guiding her toward the dining room. as korra enters, a gasp escapes her lips, and she feels a rush of emotion at the sight before her. the table is adorned with an array of dishes, each one a cherished memory from her childhood, meticulously prepared with love.

with a sheepish smile, you guide her to the two wooden chairs at the table, “now i know it’s not a lot. but i asked your mom for the recipes so i hope you like-”

korra shuts you up with a kiss. her hands again find their way to your hips, holding you. and by the look in her eyes, you know that she's been needing this. korra knows she’s never exactly been the best with words, so she hopes you understand what she’s trying to say, “(y/n), it’s perfect.” 

you lean into her side, a sigh of relief escaping you, “oh good, i was so worried you’d hate it.” 

your girlfriend turns to you, an expression of disbelief painted on her face, “what? babe, i’d love it even if you were a bad cook.” 

“what about the time i burned the seal jerky?”

“okay maybe that’s the exception. how do you even burn jerky?” 

“hey! you were distracting me!”

iii. korra whose love language is acts of service. korra whose love language is acts of service because when she’s not out there saving the world, she’s making sure her baby is taken care of. 

if there were a competition for the worst worst day ever, today’s events would take the cake. first, you and korra totally overslept, thus causing you to be late to your crucial work meeting. after a solid ten minutes of your boss’s scolding, of course, your coworker just had to call out sick, and just like that, you had to complete his portion of the work project. oh and for the cherry on top, your favorite lunch spot was inexplicably closed. 

today was not your day, you conclude. 

with a heavy heart, you trudge homeward, with nothing but your bothersome chores in mind. fold the laundry, dust the shelves, reorganize the desk…each task more dismaying than the last.

unlocking the front door, your ears are met with the quiet melody of an upbeat jazz tune. that’s strange. there’s never really music playing unless you’re home. then you’re greeted by naga, her gargantuan head nuzzling your side. and it’s even stranger, usually korra’s the first to welcome you home, “naga,” you stroke the top of her head, white fur as fluffy as always, “where’s korra?” 

the polar bear dog offers you a hushed bark as her nose points you to your shared bedroom, “thanks girl.” 

you find the door closed, the music resonating softly from the room. as the door swings open, you’re met with korra precariously balancing on her tippytoes, diligently dusting the shelves. the rest of the room seems to be spotless, the laundry basket empty and your desk absolutely pristine. 

“korra?”

at the sound of your voice, your girlfriend whirls around, almost surprised, “(y/n)! hi! you’re home early.” 

you chuckle, her crooked smile on display, “yeah, i spilled stew on my pants so i got to go home,” you gesture to the brown stain on your thigh, “but wait, wasn’t i supposed to do all of this? you only had to do the dishes and clean the bathrooms.”

“yeah, i know,” she lilts. korra’s grin widens as she hops down from the wooden stool, meeting you where you stand. her hands come up to rest on your waist and she plants a sweet kiss on your lips, “but i did them all anyways.” 

your astonishment quickly melts into gratitude. maybe today isn’t as bad as you had thought, “but…but when did you even have the time? didn’t you have to meet with the city council?” 

korra nods, savoring your reaction, “mhm, but they cancelled, so i came home and got a head start on everything. and plus, i wanted you to come home and not have to do anything for once. i know how much stress your work has been putting on you recently.” 

as you stand there, taking in the scene before you, another wave of gratitude washes over you. tears begin to well in your eyes, a floodgate opened by the weight of the day's trials and tribulations, mingling with a profound sense of appreciation for your girlfriend. korra knows all too well what you’re feeling—what it's like when the dam breaks. once more, she pulls you into her tight embrace, sturdy arms enclosing your waist.

“i’m sorry,” you begin, attempting to hold your tears back. korra gives you a sympathetic smile, “i’m happy, i promise. it’s just…everything today was such a big mess. so, thank you.” 

“it’s no biggie, babe,” korra states, her hands gingerly wiping away your tears. she places a soft kiss on each tear stained cheek before taking hold of your hand, leading you out to the living room, “bolin’s new mover is out. wanna give it a watch?” 

[sunnitheapollokid]

more leo x daughter of poseidon pls!!!

🐚┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。WHAT A GREEK TRAGEDY!

leo valdez x daughter of poseidon headcanons & bonus blurb for y’all <3

📬 sunni’s notes : you got it artist!!! i’m having so much fun writing these two NSBAHAB like cmon. but can we talk about HOW MUCH I LOVE AND MISS THE BEACH i haven’t seen the beach in like two years it makes me wanna curl up and cry </3 and this fireboy and watergirl thing RAAAHHH also which do you guys prefer as a leo face claim?? because i use benoftheweek alot (also bc hes one of my comfort ytbers) im totally not biased. THIS IS A LITTLE SHORT SO MAYBE ANOTHER PART??? guys i actually need to shut up why is this so long okay have fun with this teehee!! lub u!!

⊹ HERE WE GO LEO BF HCS!!

⊹ since most poseidon kids are from the beach, leo’s from texas, you would kind of see it as a teasing opportunity.

⊹ “how’s my lil cowboy?”

⊹ “i’m going to tape your mouth.”

⊹ even though this, leo wants to show you texas so bad.

⊹ he tells you all the good bbq places, the best rodeos in town, fucking buc-ee’s.

⊹ out of topic but yall i literally have the buc-ee’s easter shirt the hype is real i love that shirt <3

⊹ ACTUALLY,

⊹ leo gets you that exact shirt. for your birthday.

⊹ since it’s the color of seafoam and it matched your eyes, he flew across manhattan and the absolute sea to get that for you for your birthday.

⊹ you chuckled at the beaver at the front of the shirt but you loved the effort regardless.

⊹ if you could, you would wear that shirt to sleep every night.

⊹ it’s canon that leo cooks right?

⊹ good. because he loves cooking for you, not just any food, BLUE FOOD.

⊹ i’m slamming my credit card on the table.

⊹ blue pancakes, blue soup, blue tacos.

⊹ he does it just to see the smile on your face.

⊹ also, whenever he goes on quests, he manages to sneak in goldfish or whale crackers for you when he gets back because they don’t have it back at camp and they remind him of you.

⊹ leo’s on a quest with piper and jason right? they’re fighting monsters yada-yada, and they have to flee. they left their stuff behind but leo goes to grab his backpack and piper just goes,

⊹ “for zues’ sake leo, LEAVE THE BACKPACK!!”

⊹ “HELL NO MY GIRLFRIEND’S SNACKS ARE IN HERE!”

⊹ this goes for seashells too. if the quest happens to come across like a beach, he’ll collect shells for your hair or just to have you decorate in your room.

⊹ this man is so stupid in love with you.

⊹ i like to think that leo makes cute lil sea animals for you out of scrap metal.

⊹ you have a metal whale, an otter, and a jellyfish sitting by your lamp.

⊹ leo calls them your guys’ children.

⊹ you’ll accidentally slip out and cuss, and he’ll have his ears over the animals.

⊹ “don’t say that infront of bubbles baby!”

⊹ the giggle you’d let out.

⊹ gods, he’d be melting.

⊹ anyway, leo would ask percy to teach him surfing.

⊹ he can skate?

⊹ watch him surf too.

bonus blurb — longer showers? ✧˖*°࿐

leo knocked on the girls’ locker room, “she done yet?!” he yelled. piper opened the door, with a scream in leo’s face, “no buttface! go away!” leo groaned, burying his face in his hands as piper slammed the door.

when you’re a daughter of poseidon, who happened to be leo’s girlfriend, you usually take longer showers. like, long showers. showers that can maybe even last the whole day.

and poor leo was suffering by the other side of the door, his girlfriend already spending an hour and a half in the shower.

“i am going to die out here.” leo mumbled to himself. and after waiting another half an hour by the steps and getting weird stares from other campers, (name) stepped out with her hair dry, perfect, and covered in pretty white shells. “oh hey baby.”

leo lifted his head up and, “FINAAALLYY.”

[cheolhub]

YOUR MINE AND I TAKE CARE OF WHAT BELONGS TO ME + CHEOL

Also happy cheolhubversary <333 IM NOT YET DONE READING UR POST i just ran as fast as i could here when yew said ure only taking the first 5-10 reqs hajdjdjsk

12:37 a.m. — choi seungcheol

prompt. “you’re mine and i take care of what belongs to me.”

wc. ~1.4k

warnings. established relationship, frat boy!cheol, cheeky!reader, slight possessiveness, choking, pet names [baby, angel], doggy style? (idk, it’s against the door 😅) dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie – MINORS DNI 18+

note. ok so ik i said my limit was 1k for these drabbles, but plz understand i can’t hold back when it comes to cheol. ANYWAY!! kai <3 thank u for sending an ask !! ^^ i know this is kinda… meh,, but i hope u enjoy it a little bit anyway  >< (def not proofread… sorry)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ join the birthday bash!  ࿐ྂ

seungcheol dragging you through a sea of sweaty bodies was the last thing you wanted. 

well, no actually… it’s exactly what you wanted. your plan worked out just the way you knew it would. 

your attempts to get cheol’s attention at the start of the night proved to be futile as he had to make sure tonight’s party was in order. “the frat might get suspended if another one of our parties gets out of control,” he’d said. you could care less about the frat. not with the way your panties were glued to your needy, needy core. “i just gotta make sure everything is okay. just mingle for a bit, ‘kay?”

and you definitely weren’t the happiest when he told you to wait till the night was over, so you did what you do best. 

piss him the fuck off.

by the time the party was in full swing, you’d asked at least 3 of seungcheol’s frat brothers the same question. “this party is so lame,” you’d said through a sad sigh. “can you do something for me?” the question always came out so…suggestively. it was obvious you were plotting something and looking for someone to do the dirty work.

but soonyoung was too drunk to comprehend your words and wonwoo knew the second you’d walked up to him with a frown on your face. he said he’s not getting in between you and seungcheol after the last time he fell for your antics. 

but vernon… vernon was the perfect prospect. he would get the job done perfectly. 

“nonnie,” you pouted, much too pretty for his liking. “will you do me a favor?”

and vernon, ever the sweet angel, replied with, “anything. what’s up?”

you leaned in and ghosted your lips over the shell of his ear, “will you tell cheol that this party fucking sucks?” you felt his body vibrate against yours as he let out a soft laugh. “and tell him that if he doesn’t come fuck me, i’ll find someone that will.”

vernon pulled back and wearily raised an eyebrow at you.

“i’m not actually going to,” you explained through a laugh. “but if i tell him, he’ll know i'm bluffing. but if you tell him while also mentioning you heard this from wonwoo and soonyoung, then… you know. i get what i want and everyone’s happy.” you corrected yourself, “well, i’ll be happy.” 

the thing you love the most about vernon is he doesn’t ask very many questions. you could ask him to help you bury a body and he probably wouldn’t even bat an eye, just do as you ask with a nod and a careless shrug.

he went off and did exactly that. and you didn’t regret making him do it at all.

how could you when seungcheol was seething, practically shoving everyone out of his way to find you after hearing that you needed someone at this shitty party to fuck you? you’ll have to find the loose-lipped vernon later and thank him for relaying the rumor to your busy boyfriend.

honestly, you weren’t expecting him to drop everything– to stop running the party which was the whole reason he left you hanging in the first place– just to pull you into his room, wrap his hand around your throat, and slam you against the door. 

“you’re a little slut,” he chuckles, obviously amused. you smile back at him cheekily, eyes glazing over. “you think i don’t know what you’re up to?”

“what ever do you mean, cheollie?” you ask innocently, still smiling like a devil in disguise.

he leans in, lips ghosting over yours as he asks, “i mean, you really think anyone at this party can fuck you like i do? make you cum like i can?” 

his voice is low and hushed and it’s making your head spin. even over the booming music from outside his door, all you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears and his slight pants.

“you’re mine.” he says without a shadow of a doubt. “and i take care of what belongs to me. got that?”

you don’t have a chance to reply when he’s tightening his grip around your throat and smashing his lips against yours. he laughs against your mouth when you let out a choked moan into his, easing his hold on you. 

his free hand finds its way under your skirt, rubbing your cunt through your embarrassingly wet panties. seungcheol moans when he feels it. the lace growing wetter with every movement.

he pulls back, observing your glassy eyes and the way your wet, swollen lips part to emit a whine. his cock can’t help but twitch under the confinement of his jeans. “don’t even need me to prep you, do you, baby?” he breathily asks. “you’re soaking my hand through your panties, poor thing.”

you shake your head fervently, “just need you inside of me. please.”

“i know you do, such a needy baby. going around and telling everyone how you need someone to fuck you.” he coos, fingers catching your clit and rubbing into the sensitive clothed bud. your hands grasp at the hem of his shirt, trying to gyrate your hips for more, but you fail miserably. “impatient, too.” he hums. 

“fuck, cheol, please!” you whine desperately. 

he groans, ripping his hands away from you entirely before spinning you around and pressing your front against the door. you softly gasp as your cheek smooshes against the wooden door.

you hear the clanking of his belt and the zip of his zipper and you can barely contain your excitement. you flatten your palms on the door, arching your back and wiggling your ass in front of him.

he grunts at the sight, flipping your dress up and pulling your panties to the side. he slots his heavy tip between your lips and runs it through your drenched folds.

a mewl erupts in your chest when you finally feel the fat head of his cock slip into you, stretching you open as he pushes himself deeper and deeper till he’s fully sheathed inside of you. he grazes right against your spongy spot and it has your hands clawing at the door. 

seungcheol lets you adjust to the sheer size of him for all but a minute before he’s pulling out and thrusting back into you. 

and when his arm wraps around your middle, fingers diligently rubbing into your clit, you can’t hold the cry back. his name leaves your mouth rather loudly and you’re starting to feel grateful for the rambunctious party. 

his laughs airly, “this what you wanted, baby? wanted to get fucked, yeah?”

pained pleasure shoots through your body with every thrust, every bump to your cervix, every dirty word he grunts into the hot room, and it feels fucking fantastic. you clench around him, velvet walls squeezing him tight as if they’re trying to mold to the shape of him. 

“cheol!” is the only coherent thing that you can get out as his balls lewdly and rapidly slap against your cunt. 

“getting close? you ‘bout ready to cum for me?” he groans, mercilessly driving into you. you probably can’t hear him over the sounds of your moans, so he just rubs circles deeper into your clit, feeling you clamp around his cock for the nth time. 

you sob, a coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter before you jerk. your walls flutter and pulse around him as you let go, creaming his dick just like you’ve wanted to all night long. you practically go limp in his arms, orgasm turning your entire body to jelly. 

he groans, both of his arms now around your middle as he uses you till he reaches his own high. he’s moaning out your name as he shoots his load into your battered cunt, his warmth overflowing inside of you. 

and when he draws out of you, still panting and on a high, he pulls your panties back over your cunt and stands you up straight.

you look breathless and dazed and he can’t help but grin at you.  

“now why don’t we go back downstairs and enjoy the lame party?”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[itneverendshere]

you're burning - rafe cameron (one shot!series)

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader (fem!reader; criminal!reader);

word count: 1637

WARNINGS: sexual tension; asshole!rafe; enemies to coworkers??; mentions of sex; sort of canon!rafe; guns!; eventual smut in future parts.

this is part of the you're no good one shot series :)

chapter ii

Being born into a criminal life came with its perks.

It wasn’t a walk in the park, and most definitely not all sunshine and rainbows, but it wasn’t as horrible as it sounded once you got the hang of it. It’s not like you had a choice but to get used to it; people like you didn’t get options handed to them on a silver platter.

You made the best of what you had.

The one thing you never fully grasped was how the men surrounding you were all complete imbeciles. How they had the brains to pull off skimming rings, you’d never know. It added a layer of absurdity to your already unconventional life.

Safe to say you’d spent most of your life putting up with narcissistic, foolish assholes. Your father was included in the category. Years and years of pent-up frustration, being constantly overlooked by them, being told you were nothing but a pretty face in a sea of sharks.

Their colossal error was underestimating you, and the consequences were evident: most of them lay dead, your father confined to a hospital bed for life, and you assumed control of the family business just before your nineteenth birthday.

Karma, it seemed, always worked in your favor.

Confident in your ability to navigate the treacherous waters, you prepared to deal with Rafe Cameron. Having faced the worst kinds of men, he was just another obstacle on your path—a handsome one, perhaps, but nothing more.

That’s how you know the silent treatment is the most annoying thing you can do to the likes of him, running on a short fuse. You’ve seen him in arguments and physical fights before; he gets off on pissing off other people, their yelling, screaming, hitting just spurring him on.

He’s a crazy bastard, but you handle crazy better than anyone. When you’re dead silent, blankly staring at him, you know he’s going to snap sooner or later.

“Do I need to teach you how to use a fucking phone, uh?” He’s leaning over your shoulder, hand gripping your shoulder, “I texted you earlier.”

His tone is downright condescending, and you must remind yourself you can’t shoot him in the face, especially not in his house. But alas, there are other ways to set the record straight. You’re not about to let him order you around like he does to everyone else.

The muscles in his jaw clench like a vice, grinding against the pent-up frustration coursing through him, “Stop acting like a bitch, will you—look at me.”

The rhythmic tapping of a foot on the floor becomes a thunderous drumbeat, echoing the impatience and irritation that consumes him.

You’ve got him right where you want him.

“Or what?”

The corners of his lips curl upward with a sinister satisfaction. The subtle twist of his mouth exposes just enough teeth to convey a predatory amusement, casting an eerie shadow on his visage.

“Or I’ll put that pretty mouth of yours to good use. Can't bitch to me with a mouth full of dick, can you, sweetheart?"

Your lips curve upward in a sweetly saccharine smile, a facade of warmth that didn't quite reach your eyes. The corners of your mouth lifted with calculated precision, crafting an illusion of congeniality that seems almost too perfect. It’s a performance of sweetness, a mask you’ve spent years perfecting.

Your posture plays along, leaning slightly forward to give an appearance of openness, yet the controlled tension in your frame hints at a deliberate manipulation. Then, with a subtle shift, the atmosphere changes. The smile persists, but the warmth evaporates, leaving behind a cold, unyielding resolve.

It was as if a switch had been flipped, and the truth emerges from the shadows. Your eyes, once sparkling with false sweetness, now pierce through the pretense with a steely gaze, revealing the icy truth beneath the sugary exterior.

“Watch your fucking tone, Cameron.” Your hand moves with practiced precision, aligning the barrel of your gun with a level of subtlety that defies detection. The weight of the firearm, concealed beneath the fabric of your clothing, remains a secret threat, “Next thing you know, you’ll have a bullet shoved up your ass.”

A shift in the atmosphere signifies the dawning awareness on his face. His pretty eyes widen, pupils dilating with the sudden recognition of the perilous situation. It’s as if the cold touch of the barrel has grazed the contours of his consciousness.

Rafe’s quick to hide his surprise, titling his head as he examines your face, “You brought a gun to my house?”

With an air of subtle exasperation, you cast your eyes skyward, their movement a fluid and practiced roll. The graceful arc of your eyebrows framed eyes that, despite their momentary defiance, retain an undeniable allure to him.

How the hell did he not notice you were pointing a gun at him the entire time?

“Like you’re not carrying yours in your back pocket?”

“You’ve been staring at my ass, sweetheart?”

Your smirk returns, a blend of amusement and defiance, "Well, Cameron, considering the crap that comes out of it, I figured I should keep an eye on it."

His attempt at a comeback falters, and for a moment, you revel in the satisfaction of having the upper hand. The room simmers with tension, and the realization of his vulnerability lingers in the air. The power dynamic has shifted, and you're not just a pretty face in his sea of sharks. 

The corners of his mouth twitch, a subtle acknowledgment of the unspoken truth.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that."

You maintain your poised demeanor, the gun still subtly trained on him. "Guts, brains, and a bullet with your name on it. Choose your next words carefully, Rafe."

His bravado wavers, and for a fleeting moment, you see a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. The rhythm of his foot tapping on the floor stumbles, the drumbeat disrupted by the unforeseen twist in the confrontation. You've successfully disrupted his usual rhythm, and it's clear that he's grappling with the realization that you're not just another obstacle on his path.

Your sweet smile has transformed into a calculated expression of authority, a reminder that in this dangerous game, you're a player to be reckoned with. The silence that follows hangs heavy, punctuated only by the unspoken understanding that you've turned the tables, and for now, Rafe Cameron is at your mercy.

“The text I sent you earlier,” He starts, “It’s about the gold.”

“What about it?”

“Sarah— my sister, for whatever fucking reason, is with John B now and they’re on it.”

Your eyes narrow as the revelation settles in. The mention of the gold adds an unexpected layer of complexity to the situation. Sarah Cameron, entangled with John B in the pursuit of the treasure, introduces a variable you hadn't anticipated. It's a precarious alliance that could tip the balance of power in unforeseen directions.

"Your sister is with John B?" Your tone is laced with skepticism, not entirely convinced that Rafe Cameron isn't spinning another web of deceit.

He nods, a mix of frustration and concern etched across his face.

"They're on the trail, and they're not the only ones. Kooks and Pogues alike are gunning for it. It's a mess."

The gravity of the situation dawns on you. The gold, a coveted prize with the potential to reshape the dynamics of your life, is now in the hands of a volatile mix of individuals, underage individuals at that.

Your mind races, calculating the risks and opportunities that come with this unexpected turn of events.

"Sarah's involved in this mess?" Your words carry a hint of incredulity, but deep down, you're not entirely surprised. The Camerons seem to be drawn to trouble like moths to a flame.

Rafe's eyes meet yours, a trace of vulnerability in his gaze. "Yeah, and I need your help to sort this out.”

A cynical chuckle escapes your lips. "Help you? You must be out of your mind, Cameron. I don't do family reunions, especially not when it involves gold and a bunch of meddling kids."

His jaw tightens, but he knows better than to push you too far. The unspoken threat of the concealed gun serves as a constant reminder of your unpredictable nature.

"I'm not asking for a family reunion," He retorts, "I'm asking you to keep your word. You said you’d do it, yeah? We have a deal, that’s why you’re here.”

Your lips curl into a sardonic smile, and you tilt your head slightly, assessing him. "I'll play along—for now."

The room is heavy with unspoken tension as you glance around, taking stock of your surroundings. The prospect of diving into the chaos surrounding the gold doesn't sit entirely comfortably with you, but opportunity often wears a deceptive mask.

"Here's the deal, then," you declare, your tone firm. "I'll help you clean up this mess, but once the gold is in our hands, our paths diverge. No strings attached, and no more family dramas. Are we clear?"

Rafe's gaze holds yours, a mixture of relief and acknowledgment in his eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes.

 "Crystal clear," He replies, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly, "Once we have the gold, you're free to go your way, and I'll go mine."

With a nod of agreement, you holster the gun, a silent acknowledgment that, for now, the alliance holds. 

“Although my bed is always open for you, sweetheart.”

You huff, turning around as you make your way towards Ward’s office, Rafe trailing behind, you cast a final glance over your shoulder.

“Go eat a dick, Cameron.”

He raises an eyebrow, a sardonic smile playing on his lips, "You really know how to kill the mood.”

“Would rather have me kill you instead?”

“Is this some kind of foreplay?” 

Ugh.

[thatsdemko]

the art of attraction (it’s always been you) - p.gasly

masterlist

pairings: Pierre gasly x leclerc!fem!reader

warnings: fluff + some inaccuracies of Pierre and Charles careers + some angst

note: when I do “—“ to break the scene the next scene in this instance is rather not the next day or later that evening(unless specified).

summary: the story of how Pierre and y/n leclerc fall in love.

a/n: just something to lighten the mood❤️

AGE 5 & 7

maybe that’s when you knew.

when he covered your ears while your parents swore at each other, their voices rising with anger and he slipped into your bedroom to distract you and Arthur from the argument downstairs.

you could smell is freshly shampooed hair from behind you, you could hear his heart beating against his chest as he shushed any worries down your throat.

the concerns wash away as you sink against his chest, the words finally died down and his hands come off from over your ears, “Qu'est-ce que tu as entendu?” he asks in concern that you didn’t pick up any new vocabulary that you shouldn’t of heard. pierre was used to it by now with karting, but you were three years younger than him, and you definitely shouldn’t of heard what you did. what did you hear

“nothing.” you lie knowing that’ll satisfy him. he moves from behind you so you can look him in his eyes. his beautiful ocean blue eyes that you could drown yourself in.

“you pinky promise you didn’t hear?”

“I pinky promise.”

when your pinky’s interlace you could feel the electric waves, you could feel your heart pace increase, eyes growing with hopefulness that maybe he feels it too.

“come on, cherie let’s go find Charles.”

and just like that, your hope was gone. but it started a fire inside your chest and butterflies to form. nothing about Pierre gasly would ever be the same to you.

AGE 7 & 9

the most important day of the year for you was always overlooked; your birthday. it end up typically being on a Sunday or a race weekend, which meant the whole family’s focus was on Charles or Arthur and never on you.

you’d pout and fuss about no presents, birthday cakes, or well wishes from family members. but there was one person who was determined to make your birthday matter. Pierre.

“there she is!” his mother, also named pascale, beams with excitement seeing you in the stands to cheer on your big brother, Charles, and of course her son, Pierre.

“just a little gift for the birthday girl, it’s from all of us.” she presses a soft kiss to your cheek handing you the tiny pink bag with tissue paper falling out of the top. you thank her for her generosity and wait to open the gift until after the race. it was common curtesy, but you knew your own mother wouldn’t be pleased for you to spoil the joy for Charles.

it was yet another birthday spent in an hour of boredom and wishing for something better.

this was the time your mind would race of imagination. the world of delusion was limitless, and most of the time you wished of Pierre. you wished for Pierre to be the one to hand you the birthday gift instead of his mother, or wishing for Pierre to kiss you after his race. your mind never seemed to leave the Frenchman out of your fantasies.

—

“p1! congratulations.” you’re lost in the sea of family members and friends, but he finds you first. you cant help but wonder if you stuck out like a sore thumb or just someone he so desperately wanted to see after his win.

“happy birthday.” he engulfs you in a tight hug, you can smell the sweat and lingering scent of his shampoo that takes you back to two years ago when he held you against him.

you close your eyes and enjoy the moment before it’s taken from you. he’s ripped off of your body by Charles, who’s now congratulating him. a frown forms to your lips as you look down at the pink paper bag that was crumpled against his body. somehow it hurts that the only thing you wanted was something you couldn’t have. it couldn’t be wrapped a tiny bag.

but his hug was better than the silver pendant necklace that you knew he and his mother picked out.

it was the one you eyed summers ago at the antique store in southern France. he watched your big eyes shine under the jewelry’s beauty, and you knew it was Pierre who forced his mother to go back.

maybe it wasn’t such a bad birthday after all.

AGE 10 & 12

“you don’t want to swim?”

his brown wet hair drips over his eyes, he takes his hand and pushes the locks back so he can see you straight. you’re in your tankini(a horrible fashion choice as you look back on it) sitting in the lounge chair pretending to be interested in the gossip magazine in front of you.

“not up for it.” you shrug your shoulders and look back at the gossip of brad Pitt and Angelina, two people you could care less about. because right now, you’re chewing the inside of your cheek watching a new girl swim laps with your brothers and Pierre.

she was a girl from school. of course she was, and she had long blonde hair and was wearing bikinis because her chest has developed. you hoped she couldn’t see you glaring at her from underneath your sunglasses as she plays basketball with the boys in the pool. you were trying very hard to be different in hopes that maybe Pierre would notice you and forget about the blonde girl. of course your attempts failed when it was Arthur who swam up to you.

“what? you always want to swim.” Pierre’s shocked, it took your parents hours to get you out of the pool you loved it so much. he was wondering what had changed since last summer.

“she’s in some weird phase leave her alone.” Lorenzo grumbles at your attitude. the boys go back to playing the pool while you attempt to wrinkle under the sun, except every time she laughed you had to make sure it wasn’t at something he said.

this was the part that hurt while being in love, is trying to be okay with them finding someone else.

AGE 13 & 15

it’d been months since he’d last seen you. karting was taking him to new places that he hadn’t been home in forever. he was beginning to forget the smell of the salty oceans, the sound of the seagulls in the morning, and you. all this time away from home, he found himself itching for you.

when he heard the sound of the car door slamming and the mixed chatter coming from the front door, he could feel the sense of belonging again. all that time away, it changed him, and he wondered if it had changed you.

the front door clicks open and Pierre looks away from the television. he watches your family members pile in one by one, he sits in an anticipation that’ll you show, and when you do it doesn’t disappoint him.

your hairs a bit shorter from the last time, your legs are tanner, and you’re wearing mascara, but nothing about you changed. the smile when he made a joke, the shyness you got around him, it all was the same.

it’s his turn to feel the butterflies when he looks at you. and this time when he looks at you, and when your eyes connect you actually feel it radiating off of him.

he was in love.

—

“mind if I join you?” he steps up into the attic. it was a place you five used to play in when you were kids. it wasn’t safe, as there were many holes in the flooring, but it became your quiet place when you needed time alone.

you look over your shoulder to see he has a peace offering, a tiny glass of limoncello that he stole from downstairs.

a smile is brought to your lips as you motion for him to come closer, “you didn’t have to steal to come here.” you chuckle taking the plastic cup from him while he situates himself beside you.

“well you could’ve turned me down. I needed a plan to make you want me to stay.” he nudges his shoulder into yours and watches you swallow the liquor with a bitter face.

he laughs and it’s like music to your ears. you can feel the little hairs in your ears stand up, the chill run down your spine, and the familiar swarm of butterflies in your stomach. it was too easy for him to make you feel this way.

“awful?”

“horrible actually.” you choke out setting the cup on the ledge. you swore you could’ve thrown up then, but everything in you stops when you feel his knuckles against your chest.

“you still wear this?” he holds the the necklace charm against his palm, a soft smile forming against his lips. all you can do is nod. he took the words right out of you as his blue eyes flicker upwards towards you.

“I think I have a birthday gift that might top this one.” he lets go of the charm and finally you can breathe again. you feel your muscles relax as you touch the charm that was once in his hand.

“what do you have in mind?”

“close your eyes and I’ll show you.”

you’d never obeyed faster. your eye’s immediately shut. you could feel the world around you spinning with anticipation as you wait for his whatever it is.

you can feel the warmth radiating off of his body, he must’ve moved closer. his palm rests against your cheek and before you know it his lips are pressed against yours. the kiss is soft and gentle, but his lips fit like a glove. you can feel the sparks, they warm your bodies up as you move closer to him with the exact same energy kissing him back.

“hold on,” Pierre whispers, pulling away. he watches your eyes flutter open in utter confusion, “that was really good.” he whispers, chest visibly rising and falling as you just took the air right out of him.

“but?”

“we’re just kids, y/n. maybe some other time, I just don’t think we should date yet.”

AGE 15 & 17

your first everything was Pierre. at fifteen there wasn’t much you needed to experience besides a crush and kiss, but lately you had noticed high school moved at a much different pace.

half the girls you were friends with had already had sex, boyfriends, or multiple kisses, but you still clung onto that one evening when Pierre not only kissed you but then ripped a bandaid right off your wound. that night still hurt.

and while you were encouraged to move on and find other boys, nobody compared to the beautiful Frenchman.

you’d experimented with other boys, which meant fooling around making out and an occasional nude photos, but your mind never stopped going back to Pierre. no matter how much he had hurt you that night, you still wanted to experience something more than a kiss with him.

it was one sided though, as Pierre had began dating a girl a year older than you and she’d shown up to many of his races. you’d thought you’d have moved on, but that was until it was the first birthday where Pierre had no gift for you. that was when you realized you still really cared about him.

“just move on from him.” your dear friend whispered into your ear as you watch the two walk hand in hand to the track. you could’ve sworn you were about to be sick to your stomach.

“I can’t.” you whisper back pulling your knees into your chest, you watch her pepper his face with kisses, “I need to leave.” you stand up from your spot in the stands and climb down the steps, you brush past the two and for the first time you don’t even look over your shoulder to see if he’s watching, but he is.

—

“you don’t wear my necklace anymore?”

your neck looks bare under the dim lighting of the attic. he wonders when the last time you wore it was, because he hadn’t noticed the last time that it was gone.

“why do you care?” you snap taking a sip of beer from your red solo cup, the contents make the sour look against your face contort, and it makes him laugh. that damn laugh. you could curse him for finding this moment funny, because all thoughts you had cleared of him come running back.

“because you loved that necklace.”

“have you thought about that maybe the guy who gave it to me was an asshole?” you raise your eyebrow and watch the little smile across his lips vanish. he knows exactly what you’re referring to. the night when you were thirteen, he shot you down. he could never forget the look on your face and how you cried into Lorenzo’s arms. the look on the elder leclerc’s face was enough to scare him off.

“I was an asshole, but I’m your asshole.”

the words started that fire you sure was burnt. you could feel the flames ignite in your stomach as you push yourself closer to his body, you can thank the alcohol for that.

“in order for you to be mine, you have to ask me.” you rest your hand against his chest, you can feel the beat of his heart quicken under your palm.

his hand finds your hip, he licks his lips, “I don’t think I need to ask when I know the answer.”

“just ask me, asshole.” you grit through your teeth, he throws his head back laughing and says something in French that you can’t make out.

“y/n leclerc, will you be my girlfriend?”

“yes.”

AGE 17 & 19

the pendant necklace, a beautiful silver promise ring, and silver dangly earrings are the gifts you couldn’t take off even if you wanted to.

he’d made up for the lost time of traveling in Monaco for karting and his transitions into f3. Charles had tagged along, the two still conjoined at the hip despite the new relationship that had unfolded between families.

“you like them?” he asks watching you fiddle with the silver hoops he’d picked out with his first sponsor paycheck. he promises once he can afford it, Tiffany diamonds is all you’ll ever know.

“like them?” you turn to face him from your vanity, “my Pierre,” you get up from the chair and press a kiss to his lips, “I love them.”

he chuckles against your lips, you can feel the vibration run down your body, “good.”

your friends had told you his gift giving was excessive, but you couldn’t have been happier. he made time for you, now with an income he could fly from France to Monaco to visit you for holidays and birthdays, but it did mean he spent a lot more time in the cars than he did with you.

“will you be at the track tonight? I can’t race without you.” his fingers brush your hair back behind your ear, he pulls you into his lap, “I need my good luck charm.” he presses a kiss against your lips.

it’s your turn to giggle against his lips, “you’re awfully needy today.” you say wrapping your arms around his neck, “but I wouldn’t miss a race, p. I’ll be there for you.”

“what about me?! I exist too you know!”

“shut up, Charles!”

AGE 18 & 20

he missed it.

you couldn’t believe it. he missed your birthday for the first time since dating.

you waited by your phone for hours that day. it was one of your very first birthdays where it wasn’t surrounded by karting and formula 1, it was a birthday that everyone was free as a bird and he missed it.

“I’m sorry, Cherie.” Charles peers into your bedroom, a visible frown against his lips, “I really thought he’d call.”

“it’s fine, cha.” you brush him off, but he knows better. he sees the sadness in your eyes that he didn’t call.

“it’s not fine, y/n. he’s your boyfriend now, he’s supposed to remember stuff like this.” Charles comes into your bedroom, he takes a seat at the end of your bed, “next race, I’m going to push him off the track.”

“don’t jeopardize your race for his mistakes, Charles. just play fair.”

“well he’s going to get something don’t you worry.”

AGE 19 & 21

he barely called anymore. life was shaping him into becoming a formula 1 driver and he just never gave you the time anymore.

you’d moved out of your parents house and into a small studio apartment in Monaco that overlooked the hairpin of the infamous Monaco circuit. you’d be able to see his car one day drive that turn and maybe bring home a victory. but right now, Red Bull was taking your love away from you.

the phone on your nightstand finally rings. it’s a miracle that after all that praying he calls. it’d been over two weeks since you’d heard his beautiful voice.

“bonjour,” you say almost instantly when you pick up the call. you can hear the chatter in the background, it must’ve been a mistake, a butt dial perhaps. but you stay on the call in case.

“y/n, you there?”

“yeah I’m here.” you say turning away from your homework that desperately needed your attention, but the man on the phone sounded unfamiliar to you. you knew it was him, but something had changed.

“hey, I’m sorry I have to cancel dinner plans.” he says, the chatter is still on going. was he really doing this now? in front of his team?

“that’s fine.” you exhale a deep long sigh that might’ve been over dramatic, but you were annoyed. it was another dinner you had planned that you would be eating alone.

“what’s wrong?” he shush’s whoever was talking so he can hear you better.

“nothing, Pierre, it’s just I haven’t seen you in two weeks.”

“I’m sorry, you know that right? it’s just training and simulators, I need to focus.”

you sigh. this really is it, huh? becoming best friends with his voicemail box and eating shitty dinners alone. you couldn’t do it any longer. you couldn’t believe this would be the thing that would tear you apart. you could’ve sworn once you were together, there would be no stopping your love. but it turns out formula 1 had its own plan in the making of your relationship.

“well let me help you focus even more, because we’re done.”

AGE 21 & 23

he was driving the cars he’s always dreamed of doing so. he finally was in formula 1. this day couldn’t be better, but maybe it could. after seeing you arrive with Charles for his start at Alfa Romeo, the pang of regret and guilt stings his chest.

he’s reminded of the days and nights he didn’t call, the anniversaries he missed, the celebrations he should’ve been at, but the days he missed were the reason he got the seat in the first place. it came with a hefty emotional price.

but seeing you in the paddock surrounded by his family, and your family, he couldn’t believe what a fuck up he was. it shouldn’t be like this, and he knows it.

“good luck out there, sweetheart.” your mother wraps him in a tight hug, it looks like he’s held hostage, but you believe he deserves it. he put you through an emotional rollercoaster that you’re happy to be off of, but a girl never stops loving her first crush.

because while you should be angry at him, your heart still goes putty over him. your heart still beats to his rhythm despite the torture he put you through. you couldn’t calm yourself down when you looked over at him, his cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, his jawline covered in stubby hairs. he looked much better than you did.

he gets podium. his first formula 1 podium and the radio conversation is still buzzing in your ears. he took the time to thank not only his family, but you. it had to have been you, he called you his good luck charm, and you knew it was you by the way his mothers eyes beamed under the sunlight.

you attempt to look anywhere that’s not him. your eyes try to concentrate on Lewis Hamilton and his beautiful tattooed hands as they grasp the lip of the bottle, and just as your eyes were finally settled on him, you felt the spritz of champagne against your skin.

your eyes find the man who’s leaning over the edge with a bottle of champagne pointed towards the crowd. his blue eyes search the sea of fans and team members until he finds you, your body is squished against the barricade front and center.

even if you wanted to hide from him and become just another fan lost in the crowd, you couldn’t. your heart always pulled you towards him even if it broke every vessel in your body.

he moves down the podium steps, you could feel your heart against your chest. he had the capability of doing this, after not speaking for nearly years he had the ability to start a fire in you with just a blink of an eye.

you watch it happen in slow motion. he moves across the barricade allowing fans and other team members pat his shoulder and chest with encouraging words to boost his ego. the smile on his face is irreplaceable, his cheeks are red from the sweat, tears, and discomfort of his own grin, but he can’t pull it off. he’s inches away from you, allowing his mother to hug him and kiss his champagne flavored cheek, he allows Charles to pat him on the back, and finally it was your turn.

you can feel the bodies against your back pushing you into the metal trying to get as close as they could to him. their hands touch his chest, shoulder, or anything they could grab onto as he leans in and smashes his lips against yours.

your fingers pull his face closer to you, as you kiss him with all of your might like the world was going to end if you didn’t. the cheering and whistling becomes background noise as he pulls away from your lips, resting his forehead against yours, “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you so much more, Pierre.”

—

“for you, I’m going to try and make this right.” he whispers, the words stuck against your sweaty skin, kisses peppered against your shoulders, “you’re my endgame. I believe it.”

heat spreads across your face as you attempt to burry your head into his chest, “I want to be your endgame.” you say curling into his body, your ear is pressed against his chest, you can hear his heart pounding against its cavity.

closing your eyes and then opening them, you try to make sure that this is real. the boy you once dreamed of having was fast asleep underneath you, small snores escape his lips, you can’t believe he’s yours again. lost, found, lost again, and then found once more.

this was a love only ever written in novels.

AGE 25 & 27 (NOW)

“I thought I’d find you up here.” he says reaching the final step into the attic. he’s tall enough now that his head nearly hits the roof, he has to crouch to make his way over to where you sit looking out the window of the house.

“where else would I be?” you turn to him, a chuckle escaping your lips as his head bumps right into the roof before he sits down across from you.

“everyone’s waiting for us.” he takes your hand in his, thumb caressing your knuckles. you look up into his eyes, he looks handsome today. in fact, he looks handsome every day but he looks even better in his tuxedo with a crooked flower pinned to the jacket.

“they can wait a little longer.” you carefully move onto his thigh leaning your back into his chest, “I just want to be with you. alone.”

he hums in response, and just wraps his arms around yours. you rest your head back against his shoulder and suddenly it’s like your five again. the smell of his shampoo is a little faint from the cologne, but when you inhale once again there it is.

“you ready, mrs.gasly?”

“I’m ready, mr.gasly. take me home.”

I'll follow you into the park

Through the jungle, through the dark

Girl, I never loved one like you

That's true, laugh until we think we'll die

Barefoot on a summer night

Never could be sweeter than with you

And in the streets you run a-free

Like it's only you and me

Geez, you're something to see

Oh, home, let me come home

Home is wherever I'm with you

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog

[artist-issues]

And another thing.

The original The Little Mermaid is about understanding. One of the main plot devices is that the witch takes what from Ariel, ladies and gentlemen?

Her voice.

Ariel did not leave the sea “for a boy.”

Ariel left the sea to be understood. Because for the whole first part of the movie, we’re shown hints of what her life is already like, and how she’s tried to be understood but nobody’s listening or communicating.

She’s introduced by describing a ship as amazing and wonderful, while her fish friend clearly does not understand and wants to get out of there.

Even her best friend doesn’t share her love for another world.

Her first interaction with her father, count how many times he’s speaking over her.

He has this prejudice against humans, and because she’s disobeyed him, he won’t listen to any of her evidence that they may not all be bad.

Even when she has a voice and a cavern full of proof that humans aren’t all barbarians, her father won’t listen to her, so he can’t understand.

And the truth is, she doesn’t have that much proof. She knows that humans are clever and make “wonderful things,” and that’s what she bases her belief in them on. But those beautiful objects, and her pretty ideals, are not enough to make her abandon her family and culture and world.

When she sings and talks about why she wants to be Part of That World, it’s because she wants to understand it. And, subconsciously, Ariel also hopes to be understood up there. Where they make cool devices, and maybe daughters can stand instead of being reprimanded. There’s this hope for freedom and being known associated with the surface.

But it’s not until she meets Eric that those ideals are really, actually, proven true.

Ariel sees Eric out on the sea exploring instead of staying in a palace on his birthday. He gets a gift from the closest person to him, and it’s clear that even the closest person to him doesn’t understand his tastes—he doesn’t want an over-dramatic statue of himself. He sticks to his ideals in an argument that somewhere out there, is the right girl for him. But he doesn’t have to leave the argument in frustrated tears. In the end, he risks his life to not only watch out for his friend, but nearly dies going back to a burning ship to save his dog.

Eric personifies everything Ariel has always idealized about the Human World—AND he might understand her.

In her one observation of him, she finds out that he, a human, is:

A Prince, but nobody can tell him what to do.

More interested in activity and exploration than palace ceremony.

Unable to relate to his closest companions.

Handsome—beautiful, not a savage.

Criticized for “silly, romantic notions” but sticks to the idea of something wonderful out there in the great beyond.

Brave, self-sacrificial, and compassionate to animals.

Eric is, all at once, everything Ariel always hoped a human could be, and yet still so like herself. They have twin souls.

She’d rather be exploring human ships, he’d rather be out exploring the sea. She believes the surface world is good and beautiful, he believes in the girl of his dreams, no matter what anyone says. She has nobody who gets excited about new adventures, and he has nobody who gets excited about new adventures.

When she sees him, she falls in love not just with his upstanding character, or even the human world he represents—she falls in love with the hope that he might understand her in away nobody under the sea does.

Then the ironic thing is, she’s got to make him understand who she is and what she should mean to him without a voice. And unfortunately, that’s really hard because he is suddenly associating his dream girl with a voice and a magical rescue.

As close as they may get when she finally does meet him face to face and gets herself human legs, Ariel and Eric can’t be together until he knows who she is, for real. After all, how can love be true without understanding?

And we’re not DONE with understanding. Because even after he learns what and who she is and still commits to her and saves her and loves her, Ariel’s back to having a tail. She’s back to being in a world where he can’t be.

Except now, Triton is the one who understands. He finally sees what they’ll do for each other—and that Eric, ”savage, spineless, harpooning fish eater with no regard” saved his daughter. He sees that they love each other and are each worthy of the other’s love.

It’s not until Triton understands what Ariel has known and felt all along that he gives her human legs the right way.

That’s the point of Disney’s The Little Mermaid. “True love is found in understanding and sacrificing for one another.”

Triton had the sacrificing idea down, but he didn’t have understanding. Eric had understanding, but he didn’t have the chance to sacrifice for it.

Ariel has both. She understands that Eric’s world is not only barbaric, but beautiful, and she’s willing to sacrifice her tail to be understood in that world.

That is what this movie is all about. And because they’re probably willing to sacrifice critical scenes, like the Prince saving the day (which is important because it provides Triton with a new understanding of humans) or the girl leaving the ocean to be with the boy (which is important because what she really wants is to be understood) the creators of the Live Action Little Mermaid are going to miss the point and ruin the movie.