#//he's just like 'why can't i come back?!' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafayelxsylusho · 1 day ago

Note

the jealous fic series is sooo good! can’t wait for the sylus one

I almost forgot about my man. Thanks for reminding me!

Hope you like it!!

How the LADS men fu€k jealousy out of you.

TW: SMUT

***There is a quote from a book that some of you have probably read before, I just really wanted to use it in one of sylus fics😊😊***

Sylus 🐦‍⬛

You had been looking forward to surprising Sylus at home, craving some much needed alone time with him after recent missions that kept you apart. However, once you got to his place you found the house quiet and empty. No sign of Sylus anywhere. A flicker of concern began to rise in your chest as you wandered the halls, calling out his name, but only the echo of your own voice greeted you.

You found Luke and Kieran in the study, engaged in their usual antics, lounging on the plush leather sofas, having a lively discussion that ended abruptly when they noticed you.

"Look Kieran, our favorite hunter came to visit," Luke drawled. "Here to see the boss man, y/n?"

Kieran sat up and offered you a genuine smile. "Boss isn't here at the moment," he explained "He's been called away to attend a rather important auction tonight."

"Auction?" you asked, frowning. "What auction?"

Luke leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The big one. The one everyone's talking about. The one boss has been prepping for all week."

You try to recall any mention of an important auction Sylus had spoken of, but as much as you rack your brain you come up empty. It's not like him to keep something like this a secret from you. A flicker of concern crosses your face as you wonder why he wouldn't have mentioned it to you directly.

"So, when will he be back?" you asked, trying to sound casual even as you felt a flutter of disappointment at his absence.

Kieran shrugged. "Hard to say. These things can go on for hours. Days even. Depends on how stubborn the other bidders are."

Luke snorted. "And how determined Sylus is to win."

You find yourself waiting for Sylus to return home from the mysterious auction. The hours tick by, and to pass the time, you decide to engage in some friendly competition with Luke and Kieran. The three of you spend the next couple of hours engrossed in a highspeed, adrenaline pumping videogame.

In between races, you raid the well stocked kitchen, returning with an array of tasty treats and Sylus' prized collection of gourmet chocolates.

As the night wears on you can't help but glance at the clock more frequently, wondering what's keeping Sylus. A regular auction should have ended by now, and while he is known for his meticulous attention to business dealings, this delay is starting to feel a bit longer than usual.

You decide to reach out to Sylus. You pull out your phone and dial his his private number, the one reserved for emergencies and urgent matters. After a few rings, his deep, smooth voice fills your ear.

"Y/n, what is it?" his tone unusually distracted. It's clear that he's in the midst of something important, his words clipped and hurried. The sound of muffled voices and distant commotion can be heard in the background, hinting at a crowded and chaotic environment.

"Hey, I'm at your place with Luke and Kieran," you explain, trying to keep your own voice casual despite the unease you feel. "I've been waiting for you to come home. Is everything alright?"

There's a pause, and you can almost hear the gears turning in Sylus' mind as he considers his response. "Yes, everything's fine," he says at last "This auction... it's taking longer than expected. Complications arose with a few of the other attendees." He sighs, and you can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, a telltale sign of his exasperation and stress. "I'm doing what I can to wrap things up, but it may be a while."

Your heart skips a beat as you hear a woman's voice, a stranger's melodic tone. The woman's words are muffled, but her term of endearment "Sylus darling" rings out crystal clear through the phone speaker.

You stiffen, gripping the phone tighter as a flurry of unwelcome thoughts and emotions wash over you. A cold, sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach, and you suddenly feel like an intruder in the intimate moment.

"I apologize, kitten, but I must go," Sylus says abruptly, his voice tight and strained. "I'll deal with this and be home as soon as I can. Wait for me" With that, he ends the call, leaving you staring at your phone in stunned disbelief.

"Shit, was that Ira?" Luke asks looking at Kieran.

Your head snaps up as Luke's question hangs in the air, a sense of confusion etched on your face. Kieran, noticing your expression, quickly elbows Luke to silence him, shooting him a warning glare.

"Shh, don't be an idiot," Kieran hisses under his breath, though not quiet enough that you don't hear him. "You shouldn't go around throwing around names like that without knowing for sure."

Kieran clears his throat, his expression turning somber as he sees the confusion and hurt in your eyes. "Ira is just an old business partner of Sylus," he explains carefully, choosing his words with deliberate precision. "They have a history together, but it's all about work. Nothing more.

Unable to shake the sense of unease in your gut, you eventually make your way upstairs to Sylus' bedroom, hoping to find some sense of comfort and familiarity in the space that has become so closely associated with the man you've come to love so deeply. You curl up on the plush, king-sized bed, inhaling the faint scent of Sylus' cologne that still lingers on the silken sheets. As exhaustion finally overtakes you, you drift off to a fitful sleep, your dreams fragmented images of Sylus and the unknown woman, their figures intertwined in ways that make your heart ache with a painful, jealous fervor.

When you awaken sometime later, the first light of dawn just beginning to peek through the curtains, you reach out instinctively for Sylus, only to find the space beside you cold and empty. You check your phone, hoping for a message or a call, but there is nothing.

You know you can't stay here, not like this, not with the way your mind is racing. The feelings inside you threaten to consume you, jealousy, anger, and a deep, abiding fear of losing the man you love.

As you zip up your backpack, the weight of your decision to leave Sylus' place feels both heavy and necessary. You take a deep breath and make your way back to your apartment.

Once inside the familiar confines of your own space the memory of Tara's camping invitation surfaces, and you realize that the solitude of the city may be more than you can bear in your current state of mind. Without hesitation, you pull out your phone and dial Tara's number, praying that she hasn't already made other plans or filled the available spots on her trip. She answers on the second ring, her voice bright and cheerful.

"Hey, Tara," you say, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "I know I already declined the camping trip, but... I've changed my mind. If the offer still stands, I'd love to join you and the team this weekend."

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear the surprise and delight in Tara's voice as she responds. "Of course, y/n! You're more than welcome to join us. I'm so glad you changed your mind," she says warmly, her words a balm to your battered soul. You thank Tara profusely, already feeling a weight lift from your shoulders at the prospect of escaping the city and the thoughts on your mind.

During the trip Tara and the rest of the team were wonderful hosts, ensuring that you were kept busy and distracted with hikes, campfire stories, and hearty meals. As the night of the trip wears on you lose yourself in the simple joys of the outdoors, the smell of pine needles and woodsmoke, the distant hooting of an owl, the warmth of your friends gathered around the flickering fire. Slowly but surely, the tightness in your chest begins to ease, and the painful thoughts of Sylus and the mysterious woman start to recede.

By the time the weekend draws to a close, you feel a sense of calm wash over you, the fresh air and company of your friends having done wonders to clear your head. The feelings of jealousy are still there, lingering in the back of your mind, but they no longer threaten to consume you as they once did.

As you step into your apartment in the late afternoon, the familiar scent of home envelops you, offering a sense of comfort and security that you desperately crave. The weight of the weekend's emotions and the long journey back to the city have left you exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Without hesitation, you make your way to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grime and weariness of the past couple of days. As the hot water cascades over your skin, you let out a sigh, allowing the steam to fill your lungs and cleanse your mind.

You linger in the shower for longer than necessary, the heat of the water soothing your aching muscles and helping to melt away the lingering tension that has taken up residence in your body. By the time you step out, your skin is pink and tingling, and a sense of renewed energy courses through your veins.

As you towel yourself dry, you remember the need to charge your phone, which had died during the camping trip due to the lack of a reliable power source. You pad out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of damp footprints on the hardwood floor as you make your way to your backpack. Fishing out your phone from the depths of the bag, you plug it in and watch as the screen flickers to life, the dim glow illuminating your face, the phone chimes and you take a deep breath before unlocking the screen. The anticipation of seeing Sylus' name among the list of notifications makes your heart race in your chest, a mix of hope and dread swirling within you.

As the messages load, you scan the list of senders, your eyes widening as you realize that there is not a single one from Sylus among them. You set your phone down on the kitchen counter, the glow of the screen illuminating the darkened room as you rummage through the cabinets for a glass. The house feels strangely quiet, a stark contrast to the lively chatter and laughter that filled the campsite just hours before. As you fill your glass with cool, refreshing water and take a long sip, you can't help but let your mind wander back to the memory of Sylus' curt goodbye and the sound of that woman's voice, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth that even the cold water can't wash away.

You set the glass down with a heavy sigh, your reflection staring back at you from the darkened window above the sink. In the dim light, you can see the weariness etched into the lines of your face, the shadows beneath your eyes a testament to the restless nights, and just as you're about to turn away from the window, a sudden movement outside catches your eye. You lean closer, peering out into the darkness, and your heart leaps into your throat as you see a tall, familiar figure standing beneath the dim glow of the streetlamp.

It's Sylus.

He stands motionless, his dark silhouette unmistakable even at this distance. He seems to be looking directly at your window, though you're not sure if he can actually see you through the darkness and the reflection on the glass. You take a tentative step back from the window, lots of questions race through your mind. What is Sylus doing here? How long has he been waiting? You freeze at the sound of a knock, your heart leaping into your throat as a wave of panic and adrenaline surges through your body. The knock comes again, more insistent this time, the sound of Sylus' fist against the wood unmistakable.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart as you make your way towards the door. You pause for a moment, your hand on the doorknob, and take one last steadying breath before turning the knob and pulling the door open.

"Sylus," you say, your voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. "What are you doing here?"

Even in the dim light of the hallway, you can see the intensity of his gaze, the crimson eyes that seem to pierce right through you, seeing straight into your very soul. He's dressed in a dark shirt and pants, his hair slightly disheveled, as if he's been running his hands through it in agitation.

"Hello kitten" Sylus murmurs, "how was your trip?"

"It was fine," you say shortly. "How did you know I went on a trip?"

Your mind races as you wonder how Sylus could possibly know about your last-minute decision to join Tara and the others for the weekend. You didn't mention it to anyone. So how did he find out?

Sylus leans against the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling the space. He looks tired, you notice, the lines around his eyes a little deeper than usual. But there's a intensity to his gaze, a fierce focus that makes your heart skip a beat.

"I have my ways," he says, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips "The real question is, why did you leave without telling me?" His voice is low and smooth, but there's an undercurrent of frustration beneath the calm exterior.

"Come in," you say softly, stepping back to allow him entry. As Sylus steps into your apartment, you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine, his broad shoulders brushing against the doorframe as he moves past you.

Sylus turns to face you, his crimson eyes searching yours in the dim light cast by the single lamp you left on before your trip. He looks different in the low light, softer somehow, the harsh angles of his face gentled by the shadows. But there's still a intensity to his gaze, a fierce determination that makes your heart race in your chest.

You stand there, clutching the towel tightly around your body. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of the emotions that have been building for days.

"Well? Are you going to invite me to sit down, or are we going to stand here all night?" There's a undercurrent of impatience in his voice, a frustration that belies the casual tone.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry, and gesture towards the couch. "Of course, please, make yourself comfortable," you say, the words sound too formal to your own ears.

You turn to head to your bedroom, suddenly feeling the chill of the air on your damp skin beneath the thin towel "I'm going to change," you say over your shoulder, not looking back at him as you make your way to your bedroom.

You gasp as you feel Sylus' strong hand grab the back of your neck, his fingers curling around the damp skin and pulling you gently but firmly towards him. The sudden contact sends a jolt of electricity through your body, your heart stuttering in your chest as you find your back pressed against the firm wall of his chest.

"Sylus," you breathe out "what are you doing?"

His other hand comes to rest on your hip, his long fingers splaying across the curve of your waist, holding you firmly in place. You can feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of the towel, the warmth seeping into your flesh and making your pulse race.

Sylus leans down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ear as he speaks, his voice a low murmur. "I couldn't let you walk away without getting an answer first," he says, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me, kitten, why did you leave without telling me? There's a undercurrent of emotion in his voice, a frustration that he can't quite hide. His grip on your neck tightens slightly, not enough to cause pain, but enough to make it clear that he has no intention of letting you go until he gets the answers he wants. You can feel the tension radiating off him, the coiled energy of a man on the brink of losing control. It both frightens and exhilarates you, the power he holds in his hands, the way he can make you feel with a single touch.

"Sylus, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you try to pull away from him. "Not like this. I can't think straight when you touch me like this."

Sylus chuckles darkly, a low, rumbling sound that you can feel vibrating through his chest pressed against your back. His fingers tighten briefly on your hip before releasing you, only to trail slowly up the curve of your side, his touch feather light and teasing. "Like what, kitten?" he murmurs in your ear. "I haven't even touched you yet, not the way I want to. Not the way you need me to."

His hand reaches the side of your breast, his fingers grazing the swell of it through the damp towel. You can feel your nipple tightening in response, betraying your body's desire for his touch.

"Tell me why you left, y/n," Sylus demands, his voice hardening with impatience. "And don't lie to me."

You take a shaky breath, Sylus' proximity and touch making it hard to focus on anything else. "I...I needed some time to myself," you admit "To clear my head and think things through."

Sylus' hand stills on your breast, his fingers curling possessively around the soft mound. "Think things through about what?" he asks, a hint of something dark and dangerous lurking beneath the smooth surface of his voice.

You swallow hard, knowing you can't avoid the conversation any longer. "About us," you confess, the words falling from your lips "About what this...thing is between us. I didn't know how to handle it, so I left."

His lips brush against your shoulder, the ghost of a kiss that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. You can feel the heat of his breath, the dampness of his tongue as he traces the curve of your collarbone. "Tell me, kitten," he breathes against your skin, "is this what you needed to escape from? Me, touching you like this? Wanting you like this?"

His hand slides down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours. He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"Because if it is, I can make it so much worse. Or so much better," Sylus promises darkly "All you have to do is say the word, sweetie."

"Who is she, sy?" You whisper, words barely audible but you know he heard you. Sylus' teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck, his lips curling into a smirk against your flesh. He knows exactly what you're asking, but he's in no hurry to answer, not when he has you like this bare, breathless, and at his mercy.

His tongue flicks out, tasting the salt of your skin, the dampness of the water that clings to you. "You know, for someone who needed to clear their head, you seem awfully focused on her." Sylus' hand slides down to your waist, his fingers splaying possessively over your stomach. The evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your backside as he holds you close.

"Ira is someone I knew from my past. We were discussing a mutual investment opportunity. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about."

"Is that so?" you ask, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Sylus chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. He nips at your neck again, a little harder this time, sending a jolt of sensation straight down your spine.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, kitten," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. "But I must admit, it's...intriguing. Seeing this side of you, the side that wants to claw and scratch and mark what's hers."

Sylus spins you around to face him, his hands gripping your hips tightly. With a sharp tug, he yanks the towel down, baring your breasts to the cool air of the apartment. Your nipples pebble instantly, peaks tightening under the sudden exposure and the intensity of Sylus' gaze. His hands slide up your ribcage, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts, teasing the sensitive skin. You can feel the calluses on his fingers, the evidence of his power and strength, the way he could take you and claim you and make you his. His hands still on your breasts, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he holds you in place. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, his crimson eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath away. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, filled with raw emotion.

"What makes you think I could ever look at another woman the way I look at you?" Sylus asks "Do you have any idea what it's like, y/n, to be consumed by someone, to have them under your skin, in your blood, in every fucking beat of your heart?"

He leans in closer, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with your own. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the power and the hunger that he keeps leashed, barely contained. Sylus' eyes flash with a mix of anger and pain, his grip on your breasts tightening almost uncomfortably. His voice drops to a low, fervent whisper "I've waited lifetimes for you, kitten, dreaming of the day I could hold you again, touch you again, make you mine again."

His thumb brushes over your nipple roughly, sending a jolt of sensation through you. "And this is what I get in return? You, running from me, doubting me?" Sylus' voice rises, the anger and the hurt bleeding through every word. His eyes darken with a predatory gleam, a smirk spreading across his face as he sees the fear and excitement in your eyes. His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, his voice a low, sinful purr. "Go ahead, kitten. Run. See how far you get before I catch you." Sylus' hand slides down to your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly. "Run, If I catch you, I fuck you"

The dark promise in his voice sends a thrill of fear and anticipation down your spine. Acting on instinct, you wrench yourself out of his grasp and turn to run, your bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor as you race up the stairs to your bedroom. You can hear Sylus' footsteps behind you, his long strides eating up the distance between you. Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you reach the top of the stairs. You don't look back, you don't dare to see if he's close.

Just as you think you're about to reach the safety of your bedroom, you feel Sylus' Evol envelop you. An unseen force lifts you off your feet, strong and unyielding, pulling you back towards him. You let out a startled yelp, your hands grasping at the empty air as you're lifted higher, your bare breasts bouncing slightly with the movement.

"Sylus!" you cry out, a mix of fear and excitement lacing your voice. You're suspended in mid-air, towel no longer wrapped over the lower half of your body, your legs kicking futilely as you try to find purchase on the carpeted stairs.

"Did I say you could run that far, kitten?" Sylus' voice comes from behind you, dark and amused. You feel his presence looming over you, the heat of his body, the power radiating off him in waves. "I told you, I'd catch you. And now, I'm going to claim my prize."

Sylus' hands grip your bare thighs, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh as he hoists you over his shoulder. He carries you effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing at all, his steps never faltering as he walks towards your bedroom. You find yourself staring at his back, the broad expanse of his shoulders, the way his shirt stretches taut over the muscles beneath.

When he reaches your room, he kicks the door open, the wood slamming against the wall with a bang. He carries you inside and with a few more strides, he reaches the bed and tosses you onto it, your naked body bouncing on the mattress. You land on your back, your breasts heaving as you catch your breath. Sylus looms over you, his crimson eyes glinting in the low light, a smile playing on his lips. He takes in the sight of you, sprawled out and bare before him.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your heart pounding as you watch Sylus remove his clothing. He starts with his tie, yanking it off and tossing it carelessly to the side. His fingers move to his shirt buttons next, undoing them one by one with deliberate slowness, as if he's savoring the anticipation of revealing what lies beneath. As he shrugs off his shirt, your breath catches in your throat. The dim light from the hallway casts shadows across the planes of his chest, highlighting the defined muscles, the sculpted abs, the V that disappears into his pants. You remember how his skin feels beneath your fingertips, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and your core clenches with sudden, desperate need. His hands move to his belt next, undoing the buckle with a sharp tug. The leather slips from his pants, falling to the floor with a soft thud. He undoes his fly slowly, inch by inch, until finally, he's shoving his pants and boxers down his long legs. He kicks them off to the side.

Sylus stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "You've seen me like this before," he says softly, his voice rough with desire. "But I don't think you've ever really seen me. Not like I want you to see me." He crawls over you, his large frame covering your smaller one as he settles his hips between your thighs, the hard length of him pressing against your core. His hands come up to frame your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones, tilting your chin up to force you to meet his intense gaze.

"You should know very well that I adore you," Sylus murmurs, his voice low with emotion. "There is no love purer than mine" His crimson eyes search yours, the intensity of his feeling burning into your very soul. "But right now," he continues, his voice dropping an octave, turning dark and dangerous. "Right now, I'm going to fuck you like I hate you." His grip on your face tightens, his fingers digging into your skin.

Before you can process it he's thrusting forward, burying himself deep inside your tight, wet heat. A scream tears from his throat as he hilts himself fully, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. "FUCK!" Sylus roars, his voice echoing off the walls of your bedroom. At the same time, a scream of pleasure and surprise rips from your own throat, your back arching off the bed, "SYLUS!" you cry out, your voice breaking on a moan as he stretches you, fills you, completes you in a way that feels so right and so perfect.

For a moment, he stays still, buried deep inside you, his heart pounding against your chest, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. Then he starts to move, withdrawing until just the tip of his cock remains inside you, only to slam back in with a powerful thrust. "Oh god, Sylus!" you cry out, your voice hitching and breaking as he drives into you again and again. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red welts in their wake as you cling to him, your body rocking with the force of his thrusts.

Sylus feels your legs wrap tightly around his waist, your ankles locking at the small of his back. With an approving growl, he sits back on his knees, bringing you up with him. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he changes the angle of his thrusts, now driving up into you from below. "Fuck, just like that," Sylus grunts, his voice filled with lust. "Hold onto me, kitten. Wrap those pretty legs around me tighter." His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he pulls you down onto his cock, meeting his upward thrusts with a force that steals your breath away

You can feel every thick, hard inch of him as he fills and stretches you, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his length. The new position allows him to go even deeper, his cock kissing your cervix with every powerful thrust. You throw your head back, a silent scream of ecstasy on your lips as the pleasure builds and builds inside you. Sylus knows your body intimately, understands what buttons to push, what touches will send you flying. And right now, he's determined to draw this out, to make this last as long as possible. He wants to feel you come undone around him again and again, wants to hear you scream his name until your voice is hoarse and raw. So he restrains himself, ignoring the desperate pleas of your body as your hips buck and writhe against his, seeking more friction, more stimulation.

He keeps his hands on your hips, holding you, preventing you from chasing your pleasure. His hands avoid your throbbing clit, his lips and teeth avoid your aching nipples, even as they map your neck, your collarbone, the sensitive skin behind your ears.

"Please, Sylus," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, your nails scraping his scalp. "Please, I need..." You can't even finish the sentence, too lost in sensation, too desperate for release.

"I know," Sylus murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "I know exactly what you need, kitten. But I'm not going to give it to you. Not yet." He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, a twist of his hips that has you seeing stars. "You're going to come on my cock when I say you can come on my cock," Sylus commands, his voice low and dangerous. "And not a moment before."

Sylus uses all his strength to drag your hips down his length with brutal force. Your body is no longer your own as he manhandles you, using you for his pleasure. Each powerful thrust drives the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping, your tits bouncing wildly with every slam of his hips against yours.

"Fuck, your cunt feels incredible," Sylus growls, his eyes wild and fevered as he watches your body jolt and quake with his relentless pounding. "So fucking tight and wet and perfect. Made to take my cock". Your mind starts to go hazy, your thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm as he fucks you.

"Sylus!" you scream, your voice raw and broken as he rails into you. "Sylus, please, I can't...I can't..." But your protests only seem to spur him on, his thrusts growing harder, faster, more demanding.

Sylus leans in, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh at the top of your breast, marking you. He bites down hard enough to make you cry out, the mix of pain and pleasure short circuiting your brain for a moment. As he releases your skin, he laves the reddened mark with his tongue, soothing the sting.

"Do you want some help, kitten?" Sylus murmurs, his voice a low against your skin. He rolls his hips, grinding his pelvis against your aching clit, giving you a momentary respite from the relentless pounding. He waits for your response, his eyes glinting with a dark, knowing amusement. "Yes? No? Maybe so?" His tone is playful, taunting, as if he knows exactly what your answer will be. He reaches in between your bodies, his fingers find and circle your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, pushing you to the very edge of ecstasy. Your hips buck wildly against his hand, seeking more, craving more.

"Yes, Sylus," you manage to gasp out, your voice ragged and breathless." Please..please..please.." Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin.

"That's my good girl," he purrs, rewarding your submission with a hard thrust. "Now, come for me, kitten. Come all over my cock. Let go, y/n . Give yourself to me completely."

With that command, Sylus leans down and drags the flat of his tongue over your nipple, the wet heat sending a shock of pleasure through your body. At the same time, his fingers find your clit, pinching the sensitive nub between them, rolling it, tugging on it, giving you the direct stimulation you've been aching for. The dual sensation is too much for you to withstand. Your body seizes up, back arching in a semicircle, as a intense orgasm crashes over you. "SYLUS!" you scream, your voice echoing off the walls, as wave after wave of ecstasy radiates out from your core, consuming you entirely. Sylus buries himself deep inside you once again, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he also finds his release. "Fuck, y/n , fuuuuuck!" his hot seed erupting from his cock and painting your insides. You can feel every twitch, every spurt of his thick come as he fills you up. Sylus' hips jerk and stutter, grinding against yours as he rides out the waves of his intense climax, pushing his seed deeper with every movement.

He collapses on top of you, his muscular frame blanketing your smaller one, pinning you to the mattress. He's still buried deep inside your fluttering, over sensitive heat, his softening cock plugging you up, trapping his seed inside you. His breath comes in harsh, ragged gasps as he rests his forehead against yours, his crimson eyes glazed and unfocused as he comes down from his intense high. Sylus takes a moment to marvel at the utterly debauched picture you make, hair mussed, skin flushed and slick with sweat, your bodies still joined intimately.

"I can adapt to any location and call it home, as long as I'm willing" Sylus murmurs, his voice low and intimate "but now I have a condition" His eyes bore into yours, the crimson depths swirling with unreadable emotions. "If you are not there then I'm not interested. "This," he gestures vaguely at the bedroom, but you know he means more than just the physical space, "means nothing without you in it."

Sylus' hand slides down to rest over your racing heart, feeling it beat against his palm. "You are my home, kitten. My haven. The one constant I crave." His voice drops to a fervent whisper, heavy with unspoken emotion. "So that condition is you must be there. Always. Or I will not settle for anything less."

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jeanjauthor · 2 days ago

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One of my friends in the SCA (medieval society) told me of a time when they were coming back from a day-trip event where they had served as "bodyguards to the king & queen" of our local kingdom. They were hungry, so they pulled into a Denny's. Since it was a day-trip, they were all wearing their medieval clothing, etc. This, of course, wouldn't be the weirdest thing to walk into a Denny's, but it was still important to be polite about it.

Unfortunately, the driver's car had a busted side window that was just plastic baggied over until the owner could get it replaced, so they couldn't fully secure the vehicle. This was a problem. They had been in garb (medieval outfits) serving as bodyguards (aka wearing visible weapons, aka lots & lots of cutlery way sharper than a table knife). So they didn't feel it was right to leave, y'know, weapons in an unsecurable car. Thgey could hide the axes under the front passenter seat, but pretty much nothing else.

So they just wore it into the Denny's.

My friend said, "God bless Denny's Restaurant waitstaff, they don't blink at anything." The woman just asked them if they wanted a booth or a table. Not wanting anything at their backs (they were wearing cutlery in back sheaths), they asked for a corner both, three big burly guys in leather and chain armor, and a petite waif of a lady-in-waiting in a lovely Renaissance gown (my friend).

Well, they sit down and get their menus handed to them, and just as the waitress walks off (way too soon for anyone to have called), a pair of cops walk in. They greet the waitress, who seats them at a booth across the way. They, too, receive their menus, and start to look...when the cop facing the corner booth looks over and does a double-take at the three medieval warriors and medieval milady perusing menus while wearing...cutlery. Sheathed, but the very sharp kind.

Naturally, he catches his partner's attention, they both stare, then get up and cross to the table. My SCAdian friends all smile and nod greetings, and ask, "Anything we can help you with, officers?"

"Why are you wearing the swords and knives in this restaurant?"

The driver immediately pipes up, "Oh, that's kind of my fault. We were at a medieval event, serving as bodyguards to the king and Queen. Unfortunately, my window was cracked, and then someone finished busting it out last night, and I can't get it replaced until Tuesday--this is a weekend, and all. So it's only taped over with plastic. None of us wanted to leave these things in an unsecured car, and we're all hungry, so we kind of have to keep an eye on everything. Technically, there are also two hatchets in the car, but they're hidden under the seats. Anyway, that's why we're keeping a close eye on them in here, instead of leaving them out there. It just wouldn't be responsible. You can't exactly hide a longsword under the front passenger seat."

The cops eye them over, and my friend said it looked like they respected that reply, but then the other cop says, "Could you put them all on the table, please?"

She and her three friends kind of eye each other, eye the table--it, at least, is a big corner table--eye each other and the cops again. And my friend asks, "All of them? Are you sure? We have a lot on us, and this'll take a bit of time."

He taps the tabletop and says, "All of them. On the table."

"We're going to have to get out of the booth to get at some of it, sir," one of the men says. "Is that alright?" The cops nod and back up, so they start sliding out one at a time and divesting themselves of weapons. Not drawn out of their sheaths (if they can avoid it, some were booth-sheath types), and not dropping them loudly on the table either, just neatly laying them down one after another. The men were each carrying over a dozen weapons.

My friend...was still going. She gets to twenty, including having to hike up her skirts and petticoats to get at thigh-sheaths as discreetly as she could. She then grimaces, and says, "Do I really have to take out all of them and put them on the table? Because I've got six more weapons serving as boning in my corset, but I'll have to go into the bathroom to get undressed, and then I can't put my dress back on without having problems getting it laced back up, and I don't want to have to come out with my clothes gaping open or my dress fully off. I'll do it if you insist, but I'd have to walk out here either half undressed or entirely in my underthings. We may be the only ones in here right now, but there are cameras, and anyone else could come right in. I really don't feel comfortable about having to do that."

The cop who had demanded all of the weapons be put on the table turned beet red, and the other cop quickly said, "Uh, no, ma'am. If you say you have six more weapons, we'll believe you--how many weapons do you have?"

"Eleven." "Thirteen." "Twelve on me and two hand axes in the car." "Twenty-six."

The beet-red cop rubs his eyes and said, "Jesus Christ! This lady is like watching a clown car of cutlery!"

His comment busted up the group, and he waves his hand.

"Okay, okay. You don't have to bring it all out, ma'am. I'll take your word for it you got six more that you can't get to quicklyk. I, uh, wouldn't ask a lady to do that. Go ahead and put it all back on, keep good track of it, and you folks have a good night. Enjoy your meal, and drive safe."

"You, too, officers!" They started putting everything back on as the cops go back to their table, and of course it takes longer to do that than it does to get it off. Then one of the cops comes back over. They all kinda freeze mid-re-cutlery-ing, and the driver asks, "Can we help you with anything else, officer?"

"Just out of curiosity, what do you all do for a living, when you're not being bodyguards in a medieval play? And do you know how to fight with this stuff?"

My explained it's not a medieval play, but a medieval society, where people do arts & crafts--such as making all the stuff they're wearing--plus non-choreographed fighting, albeit with completely different materials and a whole bunch of safety regulations.

Then my friend says, "I'm an EMT, and I do fencing and archery. He runs a construction company, and does fencing and heavy fighting--rapier versus sword-and-shield. Our driver's a computer tech, and also a heavy fighter. And he's a chef and an archer. Also my husband. He doesn't fight in the SCA, but he does spar with me, so he can, but he doesn't enter any tournaments.

"I don't get to enter as many tournaments as I'd like, because I'm usually stuck doing the Chiurgeon work--that's basically first aid folks, since it's a fancy medieval word for 'surgeon.' And everyone wants someone competent on hand for that, for which I qualify, obviously. But with thaat said, these boys will all behave with this stuff, because they all know what my bedside manner is like with fools. Especially when I'm off the clock, so they don't dare hurt themselves or others."

I talked later with her husband about it, and at this point in the story, he said "Yeah, it was the funniest shit! The three of us all just nodded quickly in confirmation with expressions of, She is the scariest one of us all, officer. And he looked at us like, Are you kidding me, she is the scariest? But then he looks at the pile of weapons on the table, forty percent of which is hers, and raises his eyebrows in that kind of Well, I guess she is, isn't she?"

My chef friend continued, saying the cop then added, "Do you always carry a weapon on you, ma'am?"

Her husband told me she gave him one her flat Are you being a fucking idiot? stares (tiny petite woman, scary death glare), and said, "I am an EMT. I carry all manner of things that could be used as a weapon. Mostly I wield them on clothes to get them out of my way in an emergency, but even a pair of scissors can be used as a weapon." With, her husband said, a look of, As you should very well know as a cop, you dumbass. Her husband was laughing by this point in his explanation, and said that the cop walked away looking like he'd been swatted on the butt and sent to a corner like a toddler who knew he'd done wrong.

Anyway, the rest of the story had one more twist: They finished putting on their cutlery, slid into the booth, and a few minutes later, the waitress came by to take their orders, along with offers of coffee. She then added, "Y'all get a free slice of pie on the house for dessert, too, for here or to go. Compliments of the night manager, because y'all just gave the whole crew a helluva laugh with your 'clown car of cutlery' trick! Just don't use any of your cutlery on our food. Health regulations, you know."

My chef friend said he knew that technically wasn't true, but they weren't about to get their weapons dirty without proper cleaning materials on hand (you never put a dirty knife in its sheath, because that's a recipe for disaster later on), so they just went on with ordering their meals.

At this point, other people did come in to have midnight meals, mostly long-haul truckers, and they were doing double-takes. One of them even kind of sidled over to the cops, and they couldn't hear the conversation, but my friend said she overheard, "No no," and "Twenty-Six," followed by the funniest wide-eyed double-take from the trucker fellow looking her way, then he quickly sidled off to go eat a quiet, peaceful meal at a far table.

Admittedly most of what they were wearing were knives in length, but each of them had on at least one sword, and my friend even had a second one (more of a short gladius in size, though not in shape) in a spine sheath, similar to what Wonder Woman wore in the movie, but this was literally over two decades before that movie came out.

She had to have help getting it back into the sheath, because she couldn't see where the mouth of the sheath was to put it back, and also didn't want her snood (that woven net thing at the back of the hair) to get caught on the quillions, so her husband had to do that. Drawing it wasn't as much of a problem, just putting it back. Also, unlike the movie version, her sword hilt was completely hidden by the back neckline of her chemise and gown, and she said it startled the cops when she pulled it out.

When the movie did come out (again, decades later), she complained heartily about how badly that sword was placed, not very well hidden at all, and very much about to get tangled up in all of those lacings. I had to agree. It was the only place she could hide the sword, but it definitely would have tangled in the lacings.

How many weapons is it practical for a fantasy character to carry?

Assuming no magic is involved, the answer might be more than you’d expect!

Patreon - everything else

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starmocha · 3 days ago

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*crying screaming squealing kicking my feet* BRAT TAMER ZAYNE!!!! dude i need to calm down fr. mc caught red-handed, his little smirk---13 slaps later he's back to soothing her, he's impossibly hard and when he sees how wet she got from the whole ordeal he knows he's not coming back to the hospital that day. his wife will be the end of him but she's so pretty and asking for a baby, he can't deny her anything ❤️ but seriously, your fic was amazing 😍😍

🫵 Y’all need to stop scratching that part of my brain, I have wips I have not looked at for many moons now 😭 /lh …continuation of the previous ask because IDK. WHY AM I DOING THIS. WHY IS THIS OVER 1K. I miss Zaynie. 😔

Lesson Learned (?)

“Thir…thirteen!” she gasps, nearly sobbing, after the final slap landed on her reddened bottom. She whines into the couch cushion, feeling a mixture of emotions from pain to pure arousal, the ache between her legs had worsened with every slap as Zayne reprimanded her, that soft but firm voice of his was able to lure her into a state of lust with just a few choice words.

Zayne hums softly as he leans over, his mouth close to her ear again as he apologizes while his hand rubs soothing circles on her bottom. “Was I too rough just now?”

Before she could even register his words to answer him, Zayne chuckles softly and kisses her neck. “You’re not supposed to enjoy your punishment,” he scolds her, his fingers slipping into her slick folds experimentally to see just how aroused he had gotten her with his punishment, but this action alone is enough to have her bucking against him crying out for more. He immediately pulls out, his fingers coated in her essence, and she whines in frustration at the loss of him. He tsks at her, chiding her again as he pulls her panties back up.

“N-no, Zaynie, please…”

He peers down at her flushed face with a raised brow. The same haughty smile remains on his handsome face as he teases his frustrated wife. “Please what? Use your words, my love.”

She couldn’t even bring herself to glare at him for his taunt, needing him so badly now, she is willing to do whatever he asks of her. “Please…fuck me,” she says quietly with tears in her eyes. “Please…I need your…your cock…inside…inside me.”

He laughs softly, amazed by her brazen plea. He settles down on the couch, laying on his side behind her. He pulls her flushed to him, her back pressing to his toned chest. She squirms in his embrace, but Zayne’s arm around her middle keeps her trapped to him.

“Such lewd words,” he murmurs, his tone more amused than disappointed, “Now when did my lovely wife learn to say such obscene things?”

She grinds back against him, feeling his bulge against her ass and hearing his instant hiss before his hand grabs her hip, holding her in place again. Before she could even whine at him to satisfy her needs, she hears the sound of his pants zipper and then his fingers were dragging her panties to the side and she moans long and slow as he fills her instantly, his cock stretching her just deliciously so as she clenches around him.

“F-fuck,” he gasps, those rare curses he would say somehow the most erotic thing she has ever heard. He grips her leg, raising enough so he could have an easier access before he starts rocking into her with a steady pace, his pants and her moans intermingling in tandem to the lewd sounds of his thrusts. “So fucking wet…it’s like you’re swallowing me…”

Every stroke she feels has her moaning and whining, her nails dragging into the fabric of the couch. Zayne slips his arm under her head to rest and she instantly grabs at his hand, his thumb in her mouth. The young doctor is groaning as he watches his pretty wife sucks on his thumb as he fucks into her at an increasingly brutal pacing.

Her moans and whines were the sweetest noises he has ever heard, each sound spilled from her lips is making him want to drive into her harder just so he could lure out more of her heavenly voice. He roughly pulls his thumb out of her mouth, smirking when she protests but her words die just as quickly when that same hand reaches around for her breast, grabbing and squeezing tightly while he leaves rough love bites along her shoulder, his hips still moving, still not relenting until he makes sure she cums around him.

The overstimulation is too much, her mind unable to focus, her entire body has submitted to be used by him, trusting him to bring her over the edge.

“…Za-Zayne! …Gonna…gonna cum…oh god…I’m gonna cum…!”

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing her neck soundly as he groans softly, “I’m close, too…”

“In-inside me! Please, Zayne, please…!”

“Bu—”

“I want you to knock me up, Zayne!”

His breath hitches. His hand lets go of her breast, reaching lower to rest on her flat belly. They have been fucking recklessly so much lately, he wouldn’t be surprised if she is already pregnant right now, already carrying his baby in her body. Still, he is already imagining a small swell forming, his baby resting in her womb, growing day by day bigger.

She would show off her cute belly in all of the pretty dresses he would buy for her. People would congratulate the doctor and his wife for their growing family, not knowing that he has been actively breeding her every chance he could, but most importantly, when he knows for certain she is ovulating, her body just begging for him to impregnate her with his child.

“Zay-Zayne, you’re so rough! I’m cumming, I’m cumming!”

The perverted thoughts in his head coupled with watching his wife climaxing has Zayne spilling obscenely into her, his thought focused entirely on making sure every last drop fill her, needing his seed to take, wanting her to get bred like the good little wife he knows she is for him.

“You’re going to be even more pretty,” he groans into her ear before he nips her earlobe as he continues to empty into her. He husks, his breath hot against her skin, “So fucking pretty knocked up with my baby…”

She is moaning helplessly, her hand reaching down to grasp at his arm around her middle. He is saying all of the right things with that sweet voice of his, she wants nothing more than to get drunk on his words. “Zayne…Zayne…”

When the euphoric haze passes, Zayne finally pulls out, laying flat on the couch on his back, his wife resting on top of him, her head resting on his chest as his hand rubs her up and down soothingly. They both enjoy each other’s company, basking in the sweet afterglow of this afternoon delight while their breathing evens out.

“Are you still sore?” he asks after a moment, the haughtiness he has displayed earlier gone, replaced by genuine concern for her.

She lifts her head, smiling mischievously again. “What would happen if I say ‘no’?”

He blinks in confusion before he gasps, feeling her grinding against him. His hands rest on her ass to still her and he lightly glares at her, unsurprised by her audaciousness.

“I left the hospital earlier because you needed a lesson for your teasing.”

“I’m sorry, Zaynie,” she says with not a trace of remorse in her voice. She leans up to kiss his lips, pulling away to brush her nose against his playfully. “I’m a bit of a slow learner…can we have another lesson?”

Zayne chokes back his moans when she rubs against him again. He watches with flushed cheeks as she slips off her soaked panties and unbuttons his shirt she is wearing completely, her breasts on full display for him to see. He is panting heavily as she teases his cock, her impish smile brightening as he hardens again.

His eyes roll to the back of his head as this time she seems to want to be the one to overstimulate him. “Nngh—I’m going to lose my mind because of you…”

#x — 💌#anonymous #love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #zayne smut #lads scenarios #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnds fanfics #🥺👉👈#it.....wasn't supposed to be this long orz orz orz orz orz

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wendichester · 3 days ago

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I would like to request a story/one-shot of Dean. Please, my idea is to have the reader come back from trying to have a normal life after 2 years but being saved by Dean from the reader's abusive ex-boyfriend, who was possessed by a demon. The reader calls him from a motel after being attacked and almost killed. The reader would be the same age as Dean. I love angst, fluff, smut, action. I can't wait to read it.

ִֶָ་༘࿐ back to you,

summary. you left hunting behind for a normal life, but normal almost killed you. and when you call dean for help, he comes without hesitation.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 739

warnings. abuse, violence, blood, angsty and slightly smutty ; mdni!

notes. hope i managed to do your idea justice! thank you for the request hun 🩷

You don’t know why you dial his number.

Maybe it’s instinct—something buried deep, something you thought you let go of years ago.

Or maybe it’s because you know, without a doubt, that if you call, he’ll come.

The motel room is dimly lit, the air thick with copper and fear. Your hands shake as you press the ice pack to your ribs, wincing at the deep bruising beneath your shirt. The bedspread is stained with your blood—your ex’s blood, too, but it’s black, inky, curling in places it shouldn’t.

You knew something was wrong when he changed. When the apologies stopped coming, when the anger started twisting into something unnatural, something cruel. But you kept telling yourself this was what you wanted—a normal life. Stability. Something different than hunting.

Now, you’re paying the price.

The phone rings once. Twice.

Then—"Y/N?"

You almost sob at the sound of his voice. "Dean."

His tone sharpens immediately. "Where are you?"

You swallow hard. "Pinewood Motel, off Highway 6. Room 14."

"Are you hurt?"

"Yeah," you whisper, voice shaking. "I—he—" Your throat closes, bile rising at the memory of hands wrapped around your neck, snarled threats spilling from a mouth that wasn’t his.

Dean doesn’t need you to say it. "Stay put. I’m coming."

Then the line goes dead.

You barely register the roar of the Impala pulling in. By the time the knock comes—loud, insistent—you’re already up, crossing the room.

When you open the door, Dean is standing there, eyes wild, breath heavy like he broke every speed limit to get to you. He takes one look at you—swollen lip, bruised cheek, the dark stains on your shirt—and his jaw clenches, something lethal flashing in his eyes.

"Son of a bitch," he breathes, stepping inside.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until he reaches for you, fingers brushing over your arms, your shoulders, his touch careful, reverent. "Did he—?"

"He’s dead," you say quietly. "It wasn’t just him, Dean. He was possessed."

Dean’s grip tightens. His eyes flicker over you again, checking, cataloging. "You sure it’s over?"

You nod, but your voice wavers. "I think so."

Dean exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before pulling you into his chest. It’s automatic—the way you fit against him, the way his arms wrap around you like he can hold you together.

"Jesus, sweetheart," he mutters. "What the hell were you thinking?"

You let out a choked laugh. "That I could have a normal life."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, fingers tilting your chin up. "And how’d that work out?"

"Really fucking bad."

His lips press together, something softer, sadder settling in his gaze. "You should’ve never left."

The weight of those words settle deep in your chest, guilt threading through your ribs. "I thought I wanted to."

Dean’s thumb brushes over your cheek, barely ghosting over the bruise there. His voice lowers, rough, but there’s something unbearably tender beneath it. "And now?"

You look up at him, at the concern carved into his face, the way his hands still tremble slightly where they hold you.

"I don’t want normal," you whisper. "I want you."

Something breaks in him at that. He breathes out your name like a prayer before his mouth crashes into yours.

It’s desperate, consuming. His fingers tangle in your hair, his other hand slipping under your shirt, tracing over bruises like he can erase them. Your hands pull at his jacket, needing him closer, needing him to ground you.

When he backs you against the bed, you go easily, gasping as he lowers you down. His lips never leave yours, not as his hands work your clothes off, not as he presses kisses down your neck, over your shoulder, mapping every place that hurts with his mouth.

"Mine," he murmurs against your skin, voice hoarse, possessive. "No one gets to touch you like this. No one but me."

And you don’t want anyone else.

The night is slow, filled with whispered apologies, soft moans, the warmth of him sinking deep into your bones. He doesn’t let go of you—not once. Even after, when the adrenaline fades and exhaustion crashes over you, he holds you tight, fingers laced with yours, his lips pressed to your temple.

"You’re coming back with me," he murmurs. "Not gonna let you go again. Nothing bad's ever gonna happen to you again."

You sigh, sinking into him, into home.

"Not going anywhere."

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @img14 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fic #supernatural #.docx #.req

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 days ago

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An AEIWAM Bit:

Kensei Muguruma has a weird phobia of Things That Flap.

He tries very hard to pretend he doesn't, but things flapping in his proximity are extremely startling and make him jittery at best, or hyperventilate and collapse. Something about the fluttering triggers a fear response, and his total inability to ask for help or admit weakness has caused this to balloon into a terrible reactivity to almost anything with flapping wings.

Kensei was was very excited to move back into his digs in the Ninth. So excited that to no longer be living in crummy living world apartments that he has all his stuff moved in an unpacked before Shuuhei and Mashiro had actually gotten out of the hospital after the battle of Fake Karakura. It was the middle of winter, so all the division windows were closed and he didn't really look around outside.

… but the first warm-ish day in February he opened up the windows for some fresh air and screamed when he was suddenly barraged by several dozen songbirds into swooping his office looking for snacks, then becomes howlingly enraged when he realized there's easily a hundred different types of birdfeeder on the wall outside his office that Shuuhei has been dutifully filling in Tousen's Absence.

---

Kaname, over in the 12th: "Why do I feel like I've forgotten something important?"

---

Eight minutes later in the public groupchat:

KMuguruma: @KTousen WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY DUCKING BIRD FEEDERS???? KMuguruma:*FUCKING NOT DUCKING GOD HELP ME IF A DUCK FLIES IN HERE KTousen: ah. KTousen: @JUkitake got me into birdwatching in your absence. KMuguruma: BIRDWATCHING??? KTousen: Well, more like bird listening in my case. KMuguruma: WHO NEEDS A HUNDRED BIRDFEEDERS FOR BIRDWATCHING I THOUGHT YOU DID THAT SHIT IN THE WOODS?? KTousen: @JUkitake then got me a new type of bird feeder, bath or house for every subsequent holiday gift exchange. KTousen: It was very generous of him! KMuguruma: IF HE WANTS TO BE GENEROUS HE CAN COME GET THIS GODDAMN EAGLE OR WHATEVER OUT OF MY OFFICE. SHisagi: It's a pigeon sir. KMuguruma: IT'S HUGE AND TRYING TO KILL ME. IMadarame: @KZaraki Boss you gotta see this shit. KMuguruma: IS HE GONNA COME STAB IT?? IMadarame: lol. lmao. KMuguruma: IT'S NOT FUNNY!!! SHisagi: It's also not going to kill you. It's a pigeon. SHisagi: The only reason I haven't caught it yet is you keep screaming and swinging the broom at it every time it lands so I can't grab it. KTousen: It's a surprisingly grounding pass time. It really helped build a connection with the natural world around me that was of great solace during The Fuckery. KTousen: Actually learning something about birds might help with your phobia. KMuguruma: I DO NOT HAVE A PHOBIA!! KMuguruma: BIRDS ARE FUCKED UP AND EVIL AND TRYING TO KILL ME. KZaraki: That's totally true actually. KMuguruma: THANK YOU. KZaraki: I'm coming to kill you specifically in my Capacity as Prince Of All Birds. KMuguruma: what KZaraki: Be there in 10. KMuguruma: no wait what do you mean "prince of all birds"? IMadarame: The Boss is the son of She Who Rules The Sky By The Mandate Of Heaven, AKA The Firebird. IMadarame: 🔥🐦‍🔥🔥 IMadarame: So he's Prince of All Birds. IMadarame: Also, technically an Eagle. KMuguruma: wtf SHisagi: Yeah actually you should get moving he's not kidding about kicking your ass. KMuguruma: WTF?? SHisagi: He takes slurs against his people very seriously. SHisagi: also, if you leave I actually have a shot of catching this pigeon. KTousen: I'll send @MKuna over tomorrow to collect everything. @SHisagi if you can help get them off the wall? SHisagi: Roger that, Captain. KMuguruma: HEY! DON'T CALL HIM CAPTAIN! I'M YOUR CAPTAIN. SHisagi: He's still *a* captain, sir. KTousen: also the bat houses on the water tower. KMuguruma: THE FUCKING WHAT HOUSES??? SHisagi:🫡 KMuguruma: WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU?? SHisagi: With all due respect Sir, I can see @KZaraki's dust cloud approaching you really should leave before he puts a hole in the building and we have to delay publication while we fix it. KTousen: Bat houses! There's approximately 2,600 rabbit-eared bats living in the old water tower on the roof. RUnohana: They do an excellent job eating mosquitoes over the entire city! Not one case of malaria or dengue fever in decades! RUnohana:💖🦇💖 🚫🦟🚫 KMuguruma: WTF WTF WTF???? SHisagi: @NinthDivision: CODE ORANGE, EVACUATE THE BUILDING AND PREPARE FOR A ZARAKI EVENT. KMuguruma: WTF WHY DOES HE HAVE HIS OWN DISASTER CLASSIFICATION??? SHisagi: You are about to find out! Godspeed Captain, I am evacuating the building. GSYamamoto: 😎👍 RUnohana: Just like the Good Old Days, Sir? GSYamamoto: Just so! SHisagi: I have caught and safely evacuated the pigeon! IMadarame:🥳🙌🙌🙌🥳 KMuguruma: WHY DID I COME BACK HERE???

#aeiwam #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #kensei muguruma #hisagi shuuhei #kaname tosen #kaname tousen #kenpachi zaraki #for those of you just tuning in: I made a joke about Zaraki being raised by Eagles and now it's a key part of the fic lore #but he was raised by an Eagle Kami #which is like 30% of why he's so fucking weird

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lockandkeyblade · 2 days ago

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dead on main first meeting but it's really awkward

"Danny, where have you been?!" Is the first thing Jazz snaps once she answers her phone. She has a right to snap. This isn't Amity, this is Gotham. A place where the villans weren't just ghosts, where her little brother wasn't just a vigilante. He was trafficking bait. He was an accidental drug mule. He was supposed to be back at the hotel three hours ago. She was allowed to be stressed. Although, she can't help but add to that question. "Do you...have a cat?"

"Hey Jazz," Danny's voice is sheepish, almost entirely eclipsed by the rumbling vibrations that seem to be coming from right next to him, if she was to hazard a guess. "Sorry, I uh- got caught up in something?" "In something." Something still sounds like trouble, but it's not coming with the edge of villain, or worse, police, so she exhales. Allows her shoulders to relax.

Crosses her free arm across her chest, because Danny might not be In Trouble, but he is in so much trouble.

"What kind of something?"

"Well... see, here's the thing." She can hear shifting through the receiver, before the purring stops. Almost immediately, Danny lets out a sharp yelp-- and the purring continues, just as sharp and vibrant as before. "I got a little lost, and next thing I know, uh- I think Red Hood thinks I'm some kind of ecto-plushi?"

They both fall into silence, for several moments. The purring does not stop.

"Red Hood."

"Yeah."

"The crime lord vigilante?"

"Yeup."

"Is using you as a teddy? A ghost teddy?"

"Mhm. It's been like... four hours, I think? He calmed down for a while, but calming down doesn't mean letting me go, apparently." Danny huffs, loudly. Ignoring her absent reprimand for making the phone peak. "Nightwing tried to help for maybe five minutes, but I told him to get lost."

"Why?" "I think he was crying?" Danny mumbles something about photos, but right now, that really isn't important.

Her little brother had been kidnapped off the street. By Red Hood. For cuddles.

"...Huh." Okay, sure.

She can't say this is the weirdest thing to happen to them. Sighing, Jazz strides over to her suitcase, digging through her clothes to pull out the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick. "Just send me your location, I'll come get you."

"Thanks Jazz, you're the best."

#cackles #dpxdc #dead on main #Jason the second he sees Danny: I'll take that #thanks.#Meanwhile Danny is heavily unimpressed because that armor is making his leg fall asleep and he needs the bathroom?#Even with the Anti-Creep Stick it still takes Jazz ten minutes to pry them apart #Jason will be horribly embarrassed later #Dick loves it though

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serialkilluh1996 · 3 days ago

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𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖋𝖊; könig x female reader [sfw]

a/n: finally posting one of the MANY könig drafts that I've been letting collect dust in my notes

The worse part of having a house wife, in König's opinion, was that he was never at the house where you, the wife in question, resided.. Sure, he was in the army, and he would leave you alone for days and occasionally weeks at a time, but that didn't mean it wasn't torture for the poor man.

While he was at work, you'd spend your time having solo living room concerts and dressing in his oversized clothes, walking around and pretending to be him. Your favorite part was mimicking his accent. The result was always sounding like a goblin, given the struggle to match his high pitched, yet rough voice.

Meanwhile, he would be pretending to be invested in conversations with coworkers (he hates small talk) as he day dreamed about being at home with you. König just about fucking had it with hearing how his work "buddies" (if you could call them that) had such amazing stories about their wives.

They always had some romantic or comedic adventures that they could share with the group. Not that you weren't a great wife, but he just... wasn't there to experience it. You knew König's schedule like the back of your hand. It was simple; leave around four in the morning, come back two to four days later around the same time, and spend his days off resting and indulging in whatever activities you wanted, as long as they didn't exhaust him too much.

Which is why you were so confused about your current predicament: cold, tired, and just barely conscious as you stood at your front door, staring blankly at the silhouette of a tall man in your doorway. "Good morning, love bug." He says affectionately, sliding past you and closing the door. "wha.....what?" You shook your head in confusion, rubbing your eyes.

Two things: It was eleven at night, meaning he was five hours early, and König never called you "love bug". "Come. Have a seat." He plops down onto the couch, patting his lap. You yawn, approaching him with subtle irritation. "What do you want?" you ask flatly. You were too tired to be understanding.

"Just sit." He pulls you onto his lap. A few seconds pass. "....Okay? Now what?" "Now, we cuddle." You held back a laugh. It was almost humorous. Hearing him say the word "cuddle". It was almost foreign. "Can't we do this in the bedroom?"

"Sweetheart, we spend my days off in that bedroom. I wanna sit right here in the living room." He lifts his hood, kissing your forehead. "...I've got the next two weeks off and I plan to spend them spoiling you." He pinches your cheeks. You had the most confused, sleepy face, and he thought it was absolutely beautiful.

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trashytracktales · 17 hours ago

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For VDay requests: Lando takes her to a nice dinner and she gets mad at him idk maybe he does something without realizing. And then they come back home and shes still pissed but he looks so good after he changes in his comfy clothes so they end up fucking on the couch or something but that's when she tells him why was she mad at him ❤🥀

Happy Valentine's Day guys xx

Torn on Valentine | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you for this request, I actually had so much fun with it. Enjoy your reading and happy Valentine’s, my lovelies!!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

🩷summary ──── Lando notices immediately that his girlfriend is angry with him. However, he has no idea why. But whatever the reason might be, he is determined to remind her exactly why she can't stay mad for long. It's Valentine’s Day, after all.

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

🩷rating ──── explicit

🩷category ──── F/M

🩷warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, established relationship, descriptive language, swearing, unresolved tension, teasing, jealous!reader, mild dominance, begging, unprotected sex, slight angst-to-smut.

🩷word count ──── 4.4k (4.444 to be exact hehe)

🩷date ──── Feb. 14, 2025

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

VALENTINE’S DAY IS ruined.

Lando had gone all out to make sure that won’t happen, starting the morning by waking her up with muffins in bed, the scent of vanilla still lingering in the sheets as he pressed lazy little kisses to her neck.

They spent the day walking around the city, and shopping, wandering through little boutiques where he insisted on buying her anything and everything she had laid her eyes on.

And then, la pièce de résistance: a fancy dinner at an exclusive restaurant, the kind of place with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A soft melody played from a piano in the corner, setting the perfect atmosphere. The food was great, the wine was good, and every detail screamed romance, from the flickering candle between them to the way Lando’s thumb traced tiny heart shapes on her hand as they talked, his eyes never leaving hers.

All in all, it had been perfect. Until he ruined it.

The moment was burned into her mind, replaying it over and over again, like a broken record. The waiter, a girl who had been a little too friendly with him all night, had leaned in when she refilled his wine at some point, brushing his shoulder with a touch that lingered for too long. And Lando, oblivious as ever, had winked at her.

Winked.

She knew her boyfriend. Knew he was clueless about these things, that his flirty nature wasn’t always intentional. But that didn’t make it sting any less. Because the waiter had noticed. She smirked at him, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and acted like his girlfriend wasn’t literally sitting on the other side of the table.

After that, she had gone silent.

The entire ride home, she stared out the window, with her arms crossed and lips pursed, and her knees facing the opposite way from him. Lando figured something was wrong ever since; he glanced at her between shifts, brows furrowing, but he didn’t say anything, probably thinking she was just tired.

Then they got home, and she had barely looked at him as she changed into something more comfortable, still replaying the scene in her head.

Had he done it on purpose? Probably not. But did it matter?

That’s… debatable. It mattered to her.

Deprived by every emotion except irritation, she followed Lando setting up his last surprise of the day — a cozy movie marathon on the couch, complete with fuzzy blankets, sweets and drinks, and a bunch of her favorite Valentine’s-themed movies ready to run.

Now, their apartment is quiet except for the hum of the TV that neither of them is really watching. The tension between them is thick, lingering in the air like a storm that hasn’t broken. Yet.

She breathes heavily, sitting curled up on the opposite side of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, and arms crossed over her chest. Lando, on the other side, is content to let her be.

Until he isn’t.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we playing the guessing game again?” he finally asks, voice edged with concern. He knows that she needs time to process whatever’s bothering her at the moment, but his patience has limits, too.

She doesn’t look at him, just shrugs as she lies, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Lando puffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Right. That’s why you’ve been side-eyeing me like I insulted your entire family ever since we got back. It’s annoying, you know? If you have something to say…” his voice trails off, but he feels a wave of anger building inside, so he decides to let go before making it worse.

Her jaw tightens.

She doesn’t want to give in, mostly because she knows that the reason why she’s mad is, well, kind of absurd. But at the same time, she’s frustrated in a way that isn’t just about her boyfriend winking at other girls. The weight of the week has been pressing down on her shoulders, and she needs something — him — but she’s too stubborn to say it. Especially now. Still, her eyes keep flickering down, lingering on the way his sweatpants hang low on his hips, the lazy way he’s sprawled out, legs spread wide.

He catches her looking, fighting a smile as he stretches his arms over the back of the couch. “You wanna sit on it?”

Her head snaps toward him, face heating instantly at his question. “What?”

Lando shrugs, “You keep looking,” he tilts his head, feigning innocence. “Figured I’d save you the trouble of pretending you don’t want to.”

She scoffs, but can’t deny it. She does want to. Desperately. But she’s mad at him. So, she says nothing. Just presses her lips together, turning her attention back to the screen like she isn’t thinking about climbing onto his lap and letting him pull her apart, little by little.

On the TV, the main characters are making out, sending her mind spinning relentlessly, fueling her sudden desire. Apparently, that’s enough for her to decide that she has to put an end to it, finally taking Lando’s advice and speak her mind. But he’s faster. His hands are reaching out for her, almost like they appeared out of nowhere, gripping her waist, effortlessly pulling her onto his lap.

A surprised gasp leaves her lips, but she doesn’t fight him, and doesn’t push him away. If anything, she melts just a little, legs instinctively settling on either side of his hips.

He looks up at her, fingers squeezing at her waist. “That’s better, hm?”

She glares, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

Lando raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You didn’t say I couldn’t either,” he counters, sliding his hands down to grip her thighs, thumbs brushing tiny, teasing circles on her skin. “And you’re not exactly running away.”

She hates how smug he is. Hates how easily he sees through her act. Hates how good he looks right now.

But then his hands slide further up, fingertips ghosting over the curve of her ass, pressing her down against him just enough for her to feel him through the fabric of his sweats. And the feeling is… intense to say the least, since she’s only wearing an oversized t-shirt and her pajama shorts.

Lando watches her closely, aware of the effect he has on her. “Gonna tell me why you’re mad, or do I have to make you forget?”

She shouldn’t give him the satisfaction. But when he shifts beneath her, dragging her forward so deliciously slow, her resolve crumbles.

Her hands grip his shoulders, nails pressing in. “Shut up.”

“And?”

She closes her eyes, exasperated by his attitude, “Shut up and do something.”

Lando grins at her bluntness, fingers tightening on her hips as he rolls her against him again. “Ask nicely.”

She huffs annoyed, but so needy it aches. “Lando,” she warns in a low voice.

Lando shakes his head. “No, baby. You know how this works,” he reminds her, lips brushing against her neck as his hands keep guide her movements. “Use your words.”

She breathes lightly, head tipping back as the friction sends heat pooling low in her belly. “Please?”

“See, that’s a good start,” he chuckles, nipping at her jaw and dragging his tongue over the sting, “But I know you can do better.”

Her pride wars with her desperation, but it’s a losing battle. She needs more than that, and she knows he won’t give it to her until she breaks.

Next time she speaks, her voice is a whisper, breathy yet sweet, “I need you, please.”

He smirks as he watches her through his eyelashes, happy with the state he managed to put her in so easily. “There goes my girl.”

Lando can see the shift in her the second he finishes his sentence. It’s in the way frustration morphs into impatience, and how her breath hitches every time he grinds her against him but doesn’t give her what she really wants.

“I know you’re enjoying this, but there’s no reason for you to take your sweet ass time, you know that,” she mutters, her voice edged with irritation.

Lando shrugs. “And you know I like watching you squirm.”

She rolls her eyes, but her body betrays her — again and again. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie, while her thighs tense around his waist. With a sharp exhale, she moves on her own now, hands sliding down between them, tugging at the waistband of his sweats. Lando follows her movements, amused, but doesn’t stop her as she pulls them down just enough to free him.

Her breath catches at the sight: he’s already hard, the head flushed deep red, leaking just slightly.

She glances back at him, brows raised, but Lando shrugs again, as if the reason is obvious. “You on my lap, begging? Kinda hard not to get… you know, hard.”

Her stomach clenches at his nonchalance, the way he acts like it’s inevitable. Like, of course he’d be this ready for her. Duh.

Lando exhales excited as she wraps her fingers around him, stroking just enough to make his hips twitch beneath her. His breath gets slightly unsteady after that, but his control remains.

“Getting bold now?” he asks, eyes locked on her as he pushes her shirt up just a little, tracing his fingers along the warm skin of her waist.

The girl doesn’t answer, just bites her lip as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down and letting them catch on the curve of her thighs before she kicks them away. That’s when the teasing glint in Lando’s eyes fades, replaced with something darker. He swallows hard, hands settling firm on her hips as he drinks her in.

“So soft,” he mumbles under his breath, mostly to himself.

She feels exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being half-naked. It’s like he’s seeing everything, because he knows her so deeply. Like he’s about to ruin her in the best way possible.

And she’s going to let him.

Lando wraps his hand around hers and, together, they pump his cock slowly, his gaze always on her, watching the way her body responds to the sight of it. Then he runs his thumb over the tip, spreading the bead of wetness there while he moves purposely, dragging the length of himself through her folds, groaning at how slick and warm she is.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to hers for a second, while she needs to hold on to him with both hands now. “You’re dripping.”

She whimpers as he does it again, sliding against her, teasing her clit with the thick head before pulling back, drawing out her frustration.

“Lando, don’t…” she whines, shifting against his chest, trying to get more of him.

Lando laughs, low and raspy, but his grip on her isn’t loosening one bit. “Patience, baby.”

“I need—”

“Yeah?” he cuts her off, pressing the head of his cock against her entrance this time, barely pushing in before pulling back out. “What? This what you need?”

Her stomach flips at the feeling, so raw, unable to spit out any words. Instead, she only manages to nod.

To show her that he appreciates her honesty, Lando guides her hips, dragging her along his length, pressing his swollen tip against her clit once more and holding her there. Without moving. She gasps, her whole body shuddering as the pressure sends sparks through her nerves.

Lando groans, feeling how she pulses against him, how her body aches for more. “Well, shit. That’s pretty,” he admits, watching her fall apart in his hands.

She lets a little cry out in protest, trying to push down, but he keeps her there, right on the edge of everything, everything.

“You gonna beg for it again?” he asks in a teasing voice.

She wants to fight him on it, but she can’t. Not when she’s this close to him, when every second of waiting feels like pure, unfiltered torture.

She shakes her head, her little cry turning into a throaty moan.

Lando gets ecstatic at the sound and the way her body shivers — so desperate, so utterly wrecked for him before he’s even inside her. For a split second, he considers giving in completely. But then he remembers she’s mad at him. Or at least, she was. And if she thinks she can get away with that attitude without consequence, she needs to understand that she’s sorely mistaken.

Instead of giving her what she wants, Lando kisses her. Hard. His lips crash into hers, swallowing the whimper of frustration that slips from her throat. He starts guiding her against him, harder now, making her ride the thick length of his cock without ever letting her sink onto it, the friction sweet but never enough. She tries to pull back, gasping against his mouth, but he doesn’t let her. One hand tangles in her hair, holding her close, keeping her exactly where he wants her.

Until her patience snaps and, with a sharp gasp, she bites his lip, just hard enough to make him hiss, her nails digging into his scalp as she pulls at his curls. Lando moans, a low, needy sound that strikes her like lightning. The sting, the fight, the way she’s clawing for a type of control she won’t get — not yet — motivates him to keep teasing her.

Annoyed, she lets her hand slip between them, fingers wrapping around his cock, slick and throbbing, before she finally sinks down onto him. Because, sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself is to take matters into your own hands.

At that, both of them go silent.

Her body tightens around him instantly, the fullness of him stealing her breath, making her walls flutter as she adjusts to his length.

Lando’s forehead presses against hers, his lips parting with a violent inhale, his hands squeezing her hips.

“Jesus, baby,” he breathes, voice wrecked, “What buttons did I push?”

She doesn’t reply. Doesn’t move. Neither does he.

They just sit like that, their bodies locked together so perfectly it almost feels cruel to even blink. The fight, the frustration, the teasing… it all fades away in one moment, replaced by something more intense. Something profund.

When she shifts just slightly, Lando whines, feeling the way she clenches around him, and how perfectly they fit together. The thought makes him throb inside her, the heat of her making his pulse race.

She presses her forehead harder against his, her breath shaky. “Baby,” she whispers, “Shit, you feel so good.”

Lando opens his eyes, finding hers already on him.

For a second, he’s happy to simply look at her. Her flushed cheeks, the way her lips are swollen from his kisses, the way she’s barely holding herself together — everything about her is perfection. Then, he lifts her up, and the sudden rush of cool air against his cock makes him moan.

She shrieks at the emptiness, at the way her body aches to take him back. “Please, not now,” she pleads.

Before she can continue, he shoves himself back in, agonizingly slow, making her feel every inch of him as he stretches her again. As a result, her head falls forward, a desperate whimper breaking from her throat.

Lando keeps his eyes on her, his lips brushing against hers as he speaks, “Already falling apart, love? I’ve barely even started.”

She whines, arms wrapping around his neck, hips twitching like she wants more. Much more.

“This what you needed, yes?” Lando taunts, rolling his hips just enough to make her lose her mind. “You gonna stop being a brat now?”

She tries to answer, but all that comes out is a shaky breath. Lando smiles, dragging himself out just to push back in, watching her eyes flutter shut.

“No, no. Keep those pretty eyes open,” he instructs, nipping at her jaw, “Come on. I wanna watch you break for me.”

Because he is absolutely evil, Lando keeps it slow. Too slow.

Every roll of his hips is calculated, dragging himself out so she feel his cock slipping away, then pushing back in deep, filling her up so completely it makes her walls pulsate. She can’t do anything but take it, her senses overwhelmed by him — by the rough drag of his hands on her skin, the warmth of his breath against her lips, the filthy sound of their bodies meeting.

Then his hands move, sliding up from her waist, fingers tracing over her ribs before finally cupping her breasts. It makes her gasp, her back arching into his touch as his thumbs sweep over her nipples, teasing a little, then rolling them between his fingers.

“So sensitive, look at that,” says Lando, his voice thick with lust. “Are you shaking, baby?”

She is. Her thighs tremble where they straddle him, her whole body squeezing him with every slow thrust, every lazy swipe of his thumbs against her skin.

His gaze drops between them, and his breath stutters at the image. “Beautiful.”

She doesn’t understand at first, too lost in how slowly he fucks her, but then he guides her chin down, forcing her to look.

And oh, fuck.

She can see everything: the way her body stretches to take him in, the way she’s dripping down his entire length, making a mess on his lap, and the way her thighs are trembling on each side of him.

Lando’s heart starts beating faster, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her neck. “See how you’re fucking ruining me?”

She lets out a soft, broken moan, fingers playing absentmindedly with the curls at the back of his head, mostly to anchor herself in the moment.

“Lan…”

“I know, love,” his tongue flicks against her pulse point before he kisses her jaw. “Not so mad at me now, are you?”

Right now? No. She realizes she’s not. She can’t be. Not when he’s touching her like this, fucking into her with such lazy, devastating precision. Not when he’s whispering filth into her ear while looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters.

Her hands move, framing his face, tilting it up so she can kiss him again. But this time, their kiss is different. It’s not angry, not desperate, but tender and loving. A kiss that makes Lando’s grip falter, that steals the breath from his lungs and sends him to a new world that’s only inhabited by them.

She whimpers hungrily against his lips, and that’s what breaks him, because he knows he broke her first.

A guttural moan rumbles from his chest as his fingers dig into her thighs. And then he snaps. “Let me take care of you, baby,” he whispers next to her ear, thrusting into her harder. It takes her by surprise, the way he is holding her so tight like he’s trying to fuse them together. “Need you,” he adds.

The sudden change in pace fractures something in her brain to the point she can’t remember anything else except his name.

“It’s okay you’re mad,” Lando assures her. “You can be as mad as you want, yeah? All day, everyday,” he groans, voice wrecked. “I’m still gonna fuck you like this. Gonna give you exactly what you need. Whenever you need me, love.”

Her head falls back, a loud moan spilling from her lips as he loses himself in her, in the heat, the mess, and the way she clings to him.

“Always gonna take care of my girl,” he promises, sealing the words against her skin. “No matter what.”

She can feel his control slipping in the way his thrusts deepen, the rhythm faltering slightly as his breath becomes gradually uneven. He’s still trying to hold back, but she can tell he’s far from behaving. She feels his cock twitching so deliciously inside her, and the way his hands melt with her skin almost painfully on her hips. Every new sensation makes her dizzy, until it’s too much. The pressure building in her chest, the overwhelming feeling of him inside her, the way his hands start roaming over her skin, and his mouth leaving hot trails across her neck — all too much.

With a shaky breath, she collapses forward, her body unable to keep steady, falling against his chest as her hands slide weakly to his sides.

“I can’t,” she gasps, “Can’t hold myself up.”

Lando’s hands move immediately, his hold firm on her back, and voice filled with a deep urgency, “I got you, baby. You know I do.”

And then he flips them, his strength not-so-surprising as he rolls them onto the couch, her body now on her back with him above her. The new angle makes them both moan in unison, the sudden shift in depth making every movement feel sharper, more intense.

Lando’s hands find her thighs, pulling them apart so he can press deeper, pushing into her with a delicious force that makes her stomach tighten and her toes curl. The sound of their bodies slapping together fills the room — wet, sticky, perfect. Her hands reach up, gripping the back of the couch, her nails scratching at the fabric, trying to keep herself grounded as he fucks her harder.

“Fuck, baby,” Lando groans, his face flushed with sweat, his lips parted as he stares down at her, eyes wild with need. “You’re so fucking perfect, can’t get enough of you.”

She can feel him getting closer, the way his movements grow sloppier, more desperate, but there’s no slowing him down. He’s all in — in her, in the moment, and she can barely breathe under the weight of it all.

The sounds of their passion are unrestrained, loud, their breath ragged and frantic. It’s all they hear now: her moans, his grunts, the soft squeak of the couch beneath them. But as the tension starts to crack, she feels herself spiraling as closer to the edge as he is, and she finally feels the last remnants of her jealousy fade away.

She looks up at him, her vision blurry from the pleasure. “You… winked at the waiter.”

Lando freezes for just a moment, his thrusts shallow, and he looks down at her, confusion flickering in his eyes as he forces himself to regain control. “I did?” he breathes out wildly, his lips twitching with a laugh that’s barely contained.

She moans, biting her lip as she writhes under him, “Yes, when she came back with the wine,” she admits, her voice soft, barely a whisper. “It was so stupid, I wanted to throw it in your face.”

Lando finally laughs, a genuine chuckle, his face still flushed with pleasure. “Always so dramatic, aren’t you?” he asks, leaning down to kiss her lips before pulling back. “Wanted to be mad, but you’re too busy getting fucked to even care now, hm?”

She wants to argue, wants to tell him he’s being a cocky bastard, but the words get lost in the sound of her own moans as his rhythm picks up again, faster this time, his cock hitting places inside her that have her seeing stars.

“Oh,” she gasps, her voice full of the tension and the blinding pressure building in her chest, “I’m so... Fuck. I’m close.”

Lando doesn’t ease off. “I know, baby. I feel it.” He pushes her closer, his hands gripping her legs just right, his thrusts brutal and relentless. “Wanna come for me?”

She doesn’t have enough time to process his words. The wave hits her hard, crashing over her like an unstoppable force, and her body goes taut, every nerve lighting up as she cries out, her back arching off the couch as she cums around him.

And Lando isn’t far behind.

He slams into her once more, and then his head falls on her chest with a groan as he releases, the hot pulse of his cum filling her up just as her own orgasm shakes through her. Breathless, they stay like that, bodies joined, both of them tangled in the aftershocks of their release.

“Next time, don’t wink at other girls if you want to keep your eyes,” she finally says, feeling him softening inside her.

“Next time,” he whispers, still trying to catch his breath, “Don’t go non-verbal on me. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

She smiles weakly, pressing her lips to his. “You never mean it like that, do you?”

The air between them thickens, leaving behind an almost palpable silence. Affected by her last affirmation, Lando’s hands find home on her skin, the touch light, slightly hesitant, like he’s afraid to disrupt the fragile calm that’s settled between them.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

She traces her fingers through his curls, her body feeling like a flame now, flickering gently after being ignited. There’s a warmth spreading from her chest, outwards, a comfort that soothes the storm inside her. But still, her heart races, and the lingering heat from their connection seems to hum through her veins.

Lando shifts, moving to pull her closer, his arms wrapping around her. She nestles into him, feeling the heat of his skin and the sweat against hers, the warmth of him grounding her.

“You okay?” she hears him again.

“Yeah... just needed a moment to catch my breath,” her voice is a soft murmur in his ears.

Lando smiles weakly, his lips curling with that familiar grin. He brushes a lock of hair from her face, fingers skimming her cheek like a whisper, and the gesture is enough to make her chest tighten.

“You’re everything I need, silly. Always.”

She knows that. And luckily, the storm inside her has subsided. “I’m sorry, too. For being stubborn,” she whispers, her voice full of a quiet vulnerability.

Lando chuckles, “Stubborn is an understatement.”

She lets out a breathless laugh. “Don’t push it.”

His hands, once firm and assertive, now trace delicate patterns over her skin, mapping every curve, every inch of her as though trying to imprint her into his soul. There is no need for words now, not anymore.

As Lando presses another soft kiss to her lips, she remembers why they will always be able to overcome any childish misunderstanding.

“I love you,” she says, her voice steady.

He smiles, feeling a familiar warmth spreading in his chest. And, instead of saying it back, Lando tilts his head slightly, meeting her gaze with a teasing smirk.

Then, he winks at her.

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

Thank you for reading!

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

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meerkatp · 1 day ago

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I made this a couple years ago. Been feeling relevant again.

Honestly I'd argue that currently BIDEN is more responsible for the current death long covid and sickness count. And that's not to downplay what likely will happen in the future, but it was FUCKING INFURIATING how they dropped all covid restrictions way too soon because it wasn't Trump insisting on it, it therefore wouldn't look bad to go "back to normal", the lives of vulnerable civilians be damned. And while I'm sure things will get worse again in the future, especially considering we've now got fucking bird flu to be worried about, Biden's part in the spread of covid in this country should not be downplayed.

But hey, now that it's Trump doing it, the genocidal maniac that most people are willing to admit is a genocidal maniac is in control again, and now that he's got other obviously cartoonishy evil people in charge of departments like the CDC, people will start to care again and admit this shit is bad and fucked again, right? Right?

Anyways at least do your part in protecting you, your loved ones, and anyone else you come into contact with as well as anyone that person comes in contact with and wear your fucking mask. Surgical masks are good and effective but N95/KN95 masks offer so much more protection. General cloth masks don't give much protection at all so if you want a non-disposable one seek out one that offers actual protection.

Get vaccinated. The CDC said that generally you should be vaxxed about every 8 weeks. With RFK Jr. now heading the CDC you should do this sooner rather than later.

Don't eat out at restaurants, get takeout/ delivery or if you're able to, make something at home. I shouldn't have to explain how eating out is a fucking stupid idea but I can't even get my parents to get it through their thick skulls so if you don't get it, when you eat in public, you need to take off your mask. And around other unmasked people covid can spread. Even if you are vaccinated it you can still spread covid, even if you don't have any symptoms. And eventually it could get to someone who's either not vaccinated or immunocompromised and give them the permanent disability of long covid, or kill them.

As for bird flu, while there currently haven't been any cases of it being transmitted from human to human, humans have still gotten it from birds (wild and domestic). Cows have also been documented getting it. Also cats are extremely susceptible to bird flu and there have been several cases of them dying from it. So keep your cats indoors. There already are a bunch more reasons to keep them indoors but this is currently the most dire. Bird flu is already a big reason why eggs are so damn expensive right now. It's because captive birds keep getting it, leading to the farmers having no choice but to kill their entire flock. And let's not forget the whole bird flu thing got it's start under Biden who proceeded to just ignore it. And yes Trump will make it worse, there's no doubt about that, but we cannot forget Biden's part in all of this either.

#i fucking hate it here #coronavirus #covid #bird flu #avian flu #donald trump #joe biden

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ddejavvu · 2 days ago

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hiii, oml I saw that you wanted requests for marauders and this one has been itching my brain. so I’d love to know their reactions if their s/o did something disgusting, maybe just eating a weird food combo, my friends always look at me weird because I like eating chicken nuggets and fries with chocolate ice cream, or could just be smth like eating food that fell on the floor, not sure what comes to your mind but whatever you want! thank youuu and have a good day!

"She's doing it again." Sirius's nose scrunches, and he looks firmly away from where you're layering thick, melting layers of peanut butter over a warm cheese sandwich.

"Oh, darling-" James glances up at the ceiling like it'll distract him, but he can still hear the squelching of the peanut butter trying and failing to mingle with the greasy cheese. "We've talked about this."

"It's my favorite!" You plead, sucking a smear of peanut butter off of the pad of your thumb, "You guys eat gross stuff all the time, I don't understand why you always have to get on me about mine!"

"Because it's disgusting." James declares with a tone of finality you'd hear from a professor, "Peanut butter and cheese do not mix. Literally, darling, look at that. The cheese is rejecting the peanut butter. It's trying to save itself from its unholy fate."

The cheese has melted but is starting to harden again, a greasy seal around the gooey melted parts that's preventing the peanut butter from blending fully. But it's no matter, it'll mix in your mouth. You're well aware that your culinary preferences are not for everyone, but you'd like to eat one meal without probing from your dining partners.

"It's pretty gross." Remus admits with a grimace, like he's reluctant to tease you but just can't hold himself back, "It sort of makes my stomach hurt just watching."

"You eat live rabbits," You round on Remus with a piercing glare, "I watched you skin a rat down to the bone. I don't ever want to hear you talk about my eating habits. And you," You direct your attention to Sirius, "Frequently chew on sticks. From the woods. From the dirty, filthy, nasty woods. And you!" James looks like he's prepared for this, to take a turn facing your wrath, "You scoop food up off of the floor! Any floor! The five-second rule should not apply in a dusty dungeon corridor."

You raise the sandwich, dripping with peanut butter and oil, like it's your trophy. You take a triumphant bite while your horrified onlookers find themselves unable to look away, and you speak proudly through a full mouth, "Mine's not raw, bloody, dirty, or dusty, so you can all shut your mouths if you've not got sticks or rabbits in them."

#poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders oneshot #poly!marauders headcanon #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders blurb #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders dialogue #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders x reader fanfiction #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfiction #james potter fanfiction #remus lupin fanfiction

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cursedcola · 2 days ago

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Pov. : Valentines! Who doesn’t like a lil’ gift huhu Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Epel Felmeir, Idia Shroud, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al Asim, Ruggie Bucchi, Deuce Spade, Leona KingScholar, Sebek Zigvolt, Liia Vanrouge, Ace Trappola, Grimmiepoo, and Malleus Draconia. Masterlist: LinkedUP A/N: I’ve always wanted to draw something with an imagine set ^^. Some are longer than others, my bad. Happy Smoocharoo day, everyone. Writings for each square are below the cut.

Pov. A Valentines Surprise :0

Mans was not expecting a present. At all. This is his first year beyond Harveston, where the most romance going on is between the squirelles in the trees. Since Valentines day is a ‘our-earth’ holiday…well, Epel definitely is a bit dense. You might mention it in passing but he won’t think much. Especially since the topic isn't re-occurring. It's definetly there in the back of his mind, but he forgets until the day of.

On the opposite spectrum - Rook clung to the idea like bees to a fresh bloom. He gave out flowers to anyone who crossed his path - all in the pursuit of spreading joy. Vil gets a giant bouquet of roses, but Epel’s happy with his little bushel of lavender sprigs.

It's kinda nice to get a gift just because - y'know? He isn't going to prepare anything since he doesn't want to lose his 'macho bravado'. Yet Pomefiore gets in the spirit hardcore, so he can't escape it.

Whether it’s obligatory, or romantic - Epel’s grateful to get a gift from you. Flattered. Dare I say puffing up just a lil’ bit, because you ain’t giving this to anyone else, right? He’s getting a bit cocky on the inside, look out.

To get a gift on a day like this one, you have to think he's cool. At least better than the others. His competitive streak comes out a wee bit.

He’d have accepted your last cup noodle as a gift (taking great effort to smuggle it in to Pomefiore without being policed. All he wants is one. Just one. ) - but the fact you went out of your way to get macarons makes him feel all sweet inside. Like honey-crisp jam and clotted cream over warm biscuits. He tries to push that feeling down but it just takes over.

Especially when Ace tries to snag one for a taste. Epel should've known better than bringing it to lunch. He let it slide since Ace couldn't come to Fleur city with them, but you bet he was guarding that box like a bloodhound.

Out of all the trouble that came from Fleur city - you remembered his preference and that’s enough to make him accept the gift without a peep. Expect a freshly baked apple pie on White Day. He’s not much for words, but Epel will pull out the best apples for it. No bruises or soft spots.

Idia.exe has crashed. Please reboot and try again.

Seriously. He opened the door expecting Ortho with his monthly snack restock - just to get ambushed! You can’t just pop into a guys safe space without warning!

Aka. Ortho indeed came back with his delivery + 1.

Knowing Idia and his tendency to self-sabotage….yeah, it’s best not to breathe a word about the holiday in advance. He’s not exactly prying for information on ‘our-earth’…well, aside from our tech and a bit on your personal lore. Everything else is on a need-to-know basis.

Considering Ortho brought back a signed card and a few extra bags of gummy worms than he ordered? Now is definitely part of the ‘need-to-know’. Sparing his crap attack by not dropping in personally just causes more anxiety - because is it obligatory? Is it romantic? Does he want it to be romantic?

Ofcoursehedoesbutthatsopeningapandorasboxthatheisntemotionallyreadytoconfront

Holy shit you got his favorite brand and - did he ever tell you that? Have you been watching him like he’s been -

Oh man. Oh man. This is way too much for something he can’t even research - and now he’s gotta get you something back, right? He knows exactly what you’d want but ew why would you want a Valentines gift from someone like him. He can get Ortho to grill you, right? Right. But it can’t be too obvious and he needs to say thank you but can he just send a text or is that lame?

Expect Ortho to drop off a gift-card for one of the systems Idia gave you back in CH.6…and a bag of candied pomegranates. Some sugar coated, some covered in dark chocolate. Definitely higher quality than anything you could afford.

You mention the holiday when discussing the opportune market back in ‘our-world’. Azul does have a nasty habit of making everything about work - even if you’re just stopping by for a spot of tea. Unheard of by any other student.

Alas. Holidays are a great chance for promotions. You’ve seen festivals and the like in Twisted Wonderland - but there are some tips and tricks to contribute. Like how western culture has totally whipped consumerism in gear with a holiday tacking a price tag on love and affection

Whether you buy into Valentines Day or not - Azul does not forget, and tries to establish a bit of a promotion at the Lounge. Hard to do in a school with nearly 100% male population…but he does manage, there are many forms of love other than romantic. It’s also easy to prey on lonely shmucks feeling down on their luck -

*sigh*

Despite remembering the day and campaigning for it - Azul isn’t prepared to receive a present. Not one without strings attached. It’s nothing much. A singular piece of rich, creamy cheesecake, wrapped in a neat little box with his name scrawled on a gift tag. Just enough to indulge but not tempt him to gorge. The perfect sweetness for someone like him to kick back at his desk and enjoy a brief respite.

Has consistently inviting you over for tea finally worked? All those nights of meticulously planning, trying to gather notions and novels while not overbearing you…like fishing. Carefully reeling in and letting loose until you willingly came to him

…no. He mustn’t assume. He will not. This could be obligatory, friendship….familial? No. Certainly not yet.

For all his predatory behavior on those lovesick ‘shmucks’ - Azul enjoys that piece of cheesecake with a bit more gusto than he’d let on. On White Day, do accept a ‘traditional’ assortment of cookies and chocolates, alongside a private dinner reservation.

Oh sweetheart, he’s already way ahead of you. This sunshine never forgets a single holiday. Any chance to celebrate is always taken. He was the first to ever inquire about what parties and events people in ‘our-world’ follow, or at least the ones you do.

Kalim likely picked out gifts in advance - some for his friends, his dorm-mates, a special thank you for Jamil…

And you, of course. The main focus of Valentines is romance, eh? You think he’s going to let that chance slip through his fingers? Especially if you’ve never gotten anything for Valentines before. You’ll be setting off to go track him down, just to find him carrying a teetering stack of boxes up to Ramshackle. Grim’s already drooling.

Part of him wanted to make something with his own two hands. Yet with limited experience in the kitchen, his options were small. He also didn’t want to frustrate Jamil by making a mess…but isn’t the point of this holiday to make one’s feelings clear?

Enlisting help also wouldn’t do. He had to do something on his own. Kalim can buy you the world, but some things need to be done with a man’s own two hands.

Inside the smallest box on the very top is a paper elephant that Kalim folded himself. It’s nothing extravagant, but he’s done crafts with his siblings before. Rather than toll away in the kitchen to come up with something near inedible, Kalim wanted to do something with his skills. Something fun and unique. You can fold it down too, so it can be stored away somewhere safe.

The sight’s a bit intimidating, especially with your small bouquet of yellow and roses, partnered with a few sprigs of baby’s breath. Yet Kalim looks so pleased to bring you his gifts, it’s hard to feel anything but happiness. Especially when he takes one look at the flowers and near bounces to the clouds.

Sure, you might’ve given little gifts to your friends but no one else has flowers. You thought of him first!

Does that mean he’s special? He sure hopes so. Part of him wishes he got you more gifts, but he had to stop somewhere. Otherwise you’d feel overwhelmed…

Guess you’ll both have to do something for each other on White Day though, huh? A banquet for two sounds perfect to his ears.

Ruggie's easy to please. If it's free, he'll take it. You could have offered up the last soda in your fridge, and he would have took it without a second thought.

Problem is - nothing's 'free'. He knows you're not like that - the cunning type (like him) - at least when it comes to abusing others for personal gain. Socially, to be clear. Aka. You know the struggle of scraping coins together to get by, so he's 99.98% sure you're not one to toss a gift his way just 'cause you don't want it anymore. You're also not abundant in resources - so you wouldn't use money to butter him up like Leona does. Maybe a bit of pulling the heart-strings (which regrettably works, not that he'll ever admit it).

Which is why he's doing a lil' mental rodeo when presented with heart-shaped cream donuts. Not the cheap kind either. The good ones. Glazed with cholate, stuffed with vanilla custard, and a dollop of whipped cream on top with a cherry. He won't look a gift horse in the mouth, and takes the basket like you're handing over gold.

For something this good, you've gotta have a good reason. It's not his birthday. Not a holiday he knows about. He hasn't helped you out at all either - at least, nothing out of the ordinary. He'd be super suspicious if this was literally anyone else.

Let's just completely bypass the heart-shape and nervousness bleeding out as you hand the goods over. Ruggie knows better than to hope for a good thing.

He just chalks it up to you spending too much time picking up baking tricks with Trey - ya do hang around Heartslabyul a lot. Ruggie's admit to enjoying a good donut - maybe you were using him as a test dummy for a recipe? Yeah. That's it. He won't get ahead of himself. He'll totally be chowing down on these later, and stuffs the box away for safe keeps (Savanaclaw bros will eat anything).

When he's in the clear? Happily downing his spoils in the sanctity of his dorm, chilling by the waterfall in the lounge? Jack pops in,, spots the donuts, recognizes the wrapping, and comments that they're different from what everyone else got.

and thus - Ruggie learns about Valentines day...and recounts the encounter with a new perspective.

Ruggie acts nonchalant about it. He was already savoring the donuts, but now he's eating slower. Reallllly thinking it over....he's not dumb, y'know.

You might have slipped by him this time, and as a bit of payback he'll reign himself in. It'll be fun watching ya stumble here and there for a bit - knowing he's got the 'good thing' guaranteed.

For White Day? Expect the tables to turn with a pack of sugar cookies - what? They're quick, simple, and sweet. Oh, and they're shaped like hearts too. Familiar? Take that as ya will, shishishi~

Well-informed about Valentines Day. Grim would not shut up about it for an entire week with all his whining and bemoaning about being surrounded by candy that he couldn't eat. Not if he wanted to keep living in Ramshackle.

Deuce thinks it's admirable that you prepare gifts for everyone. Group mentality, y'know? Making sure no one gets left out...even the people who don't deserve that kindness. It's no wonder you're a prefect, even if it was by default.

Yup. Somehow the holiday inspires him. Deuce is invested and supportive. He offers to keep Grim on lockdown at Heartslabyul if you really want to protect all the goodies. Just in case of sticky paws.

Also? Deuce will do anything to make you feel a bit more at home. Seeing you so excited to celebrate something from your world, especially after adhering to Wonderland's festivals (starsending, harveston sledathon, cloudcalling etc) - well, it would be shitty of him not to be supportive. Do you want help passing out gifts? You helped him collect wishes when he was a stargazer, it's only fair.

Imagine when the day comes and everyone's received their little baggie of treats - Deuce is left with one short. He made sure that everyone got their share first, and was happy to have helped despite being disappointed that he was one-short. He thinks you've miscounted and it was on accident. Not for a moment does Deuce think you would intentionally forget him.

Which is exactly why he doesn't say a word. Seeing you happy an being a part of your holiday is more than enough for Deuce. It's corny, but your smile is his present. He'd rather swipe some of Ace's and fib than make you feel bad for miscounting.

Except you didn't miscount. When Deuce heads back to his dorm for the night, he opens his bag to see a surprise slipped inside the outer pocket.

There's a small card, explaining that it felt unfair for everyone to get a surprise but him. Expressing gratitude for his support - both for helping celebrate Valentines and as a friend. Also that his gift was 'special,' and you wanted to spare him the awkwardness of receiving it in front of everyone.

He wonders what kind of 'special' you mean. Deuce pulls out a box of creme filled chocolate eggs. While the bags he passed out earlier were all exactly the same in quality and size - this gift was different.

Different. Special. Cute. Thoughtful. Romantic? If his gift was 'special' compared to everyone else's....

His roommates find Deuce passed out in an emotional sugar coma on the ground. No one moves him. Ace gives you crap for 'running juice-y ragged' the next day and gets pummeled for it.

Deuce tries time and time again to see if your gift meant more...but ultimately fails. His seniors can't watch him flounder anymore, and on White Day he steels his courage. Ready for battle, Deuce offers a bouquet of wild flowers and heartfelt sentiment.

Impressing Leona is both the simplest and most daunting task. What can you give a man who can purchase anything he wants on his own?

Wholesome Sincerity.

Leona acts uninterested when discussing your world - and for the most part? It's not feigned. He grows curious when politics, sports, world progression (research, etc), and how function without magic works. Good examples could be American Football and Rugby - which play similar to Spelldrive and pique his tactical mind. Also diplomatic relations between our countries, the use of differing energy sources other than magic, etc. The stuff a prince who wants to improve his homeland would want information on.

He does not care about celebrity fads or a famous gorilla named Harmbe.

Using this logic, you'd assume he wouldn't want to hear about a commercialized holiday like Valentines Day...right?

Partially correct.

No, he does not care about capitalism preying on sweethearts and monetizing love. Waste of his brain space. What Leona does care about is your investment in the holiday. Just like how he'll have one ear tuned in during those rare moments you let information about your life before Night Raven slip out.

You don't breathe a word about celebrating the holiday to him, but Leona expects a gift. Cocky, sure. He just knows ya too well, sue him. Even though you don't mention giving presents out, you bring up the holiday one too many times when chatting with others in his vicinity. Unlike the fresh meat, he doesn't need to be told straight out when cogs are turning in your head.

So he's plays the quiet game all day. He won't seek you out, but he'll hang around spots you know to find him at. Ruggie pops in during lunch with a wrapped baggie of sweets in one hand and lo-behold, Leona was right. You were giving gifts out like the good herbivore he knew you were. A few look arounds while walking on campus show the same goody bag in roughly every 10th student walking around. All in freshman year, all you likely see in class. With the exception of more obvious relations such as the...eugh...Leech Twins. It's hard not to know Floyd got something with his loud mouth and taunts.

All the same. Obligatory, he notes.

Leona spends longer than usual lazing in his dorm's lounge that night, resting with his eyes closed and lazing on one of the open rocks. A singular perked ear gives him away though, and it twitches when familiar footsteps approach.

Just as planned, you're leaning over him with that sickeningly earnest grin. All to eager to hand over one of those little bags of chocolate he's seen -

Except you set a large, heavy box on his stomach, and he can't maintain his indifference when faced with something....well, definitely not obligatory. An idiot would think this is obligatory.

Ceramic Sunflowers. Exactly six of them in a small white vase. The paint job is shoddy and honestly Savanaclaw is not a place to keep fragile items. He kind of wants to, since the only place you could get a kiln for this is the Gargoyle Studies Club...the thought of that lizard showing you how to carve clay taints the gift just a tad.

Except it's entirely novel all the same, and the hidden meaning is blatantly obvious too. Sickeningly sweet, he might lose a fang. Giving a gift like this to someone like him...with that poorly hidden affection.

He prepared a return gift in expectation for your chocolates. He's a jerk but wouldn't put down your holiday...but before that, he'll ask straight out of this is romantic or platonic. No mercy.

If romantic? Well, he'll waste no time meeting your sweetness with a kiss, clasping a colorfully beaded necklace around your neck in the moment.

Tradition is meant to be honored! Just because you are no longer in your world, does not mean you can shirk your civic responsibilities!

It takes some effort to explain that Valentines is an optional holiday. That it is not celebrated in every country in your world, and that most people do not partake at all. No holiday is mandatory, although some are more widely advertised than others. The meaning behind those days changes by the person.

You can try using Malleus' birthday as an example - it's a big day in Briar Valley after all. It won't work, since Sebek thinks it should be celebrated worldwide and anyone from Briar Valley not doing so should be considered treasonous.

Regardless if you enjoy Valentines or not - Sebek will remember the day (as well as others you mention, and any traditions that you may consider important). He wants you to celebrate, and already told his liege. Malleus was all too eager to hear a bit of your past and is going to send a card. Are you going to not return his good grace?! That's unthinkable - you will celebrate and that is that.

It's important to note that Sebek honed in on the familial and friendship aspects of Valentines. Aka he heard about a chance to revere the people he cares about and went with it. He did not ignore the romance part. In fact, it wavered him enough for his thoughts to roam a brief moment. Then he forcibly snapped himself out of it, and returned to lecturing you about upholding tradition....

He doesn't intrude upon your home - isn't it expected for the giver to prepare their gifts alone? That is what gives the present meaning.

On Valentines day, he presents Malleus and Lilia with presents. Silver too...begrudgingly. Also small candies for his 'friends' since Lilia said it would be against the day's law to forgo them for his ego. Malleus gets the most though, since he is whom Sebek admires above all. Fair warning.

He is pleased to see that you've given out presents to the others as well. Proud, even. It is important to remember your roots and he is pleased to have played a part.

Which is exactly why Sebek proudly boasts a gift for you. It's not the small candies the others received, nor the lavish sweets given to Malleus. As per tradition, Sebek presents you with a heart-shaped box of mixed truffles. He does it in front of everyone else too...very loudly...and despite his insistence that your gift is different since you're a close friend to Malleus? That bright red blush creeping out of Sebek's collar says otherwise.

Emotions and admiration are not something to be hidden. Repressed? Perhaps, but not hidden.

So you give him his gift in turn. Somehow his heart pounds just as hard for your box of chocolates as it did for Malleus' card. He takes it with the stiffest movements you've ever seen, jerking like a toy doll. As if anything beyond a curt 'thank you, human' will cause him to combust

That's because it will. Just saying.

....oho?

Ah. What a precious holiday. Truly.

Lilia is always looking for ways to spice up life. Compliance and predictability are good - but do you know what's better? Fun. Sometimes it’s best to just ‘go with the flow’ as people say.

Your flow always has something exciting in it's path - but so rare does it involve lighthearted joys such as as sweets and love. What a nice change of pace, and novel too! Lilia can't help but grow curious when you tell his about Valentines. A baby that flies through the air and shoots people with arrows? Clad in a diaper? Don’t give him ideas. Maybe TWST could use a bat Cupid…

He’s eager when you invite him and his boys to a party. Malleus is overjoyed to have an invitation to Ramshackle, Sebek goes whereever Malleus does, and Silver wouldn't make light of an invite from a friend. You must be excited to host as well, no? Can he help at all?

He almost refrains from pulling mischief. Almost. In Lilia's defense, his intentions were pure. You wanted to share a bit of love with the people you cared about, no? It would be negligent for him not to do the same!

So….he prepares a special batch of brownies to the potluck. Made with the eggshells included for a crunch! And what’s love without a little spice? He added extra hot sauce for a kick. He just knows it will be a hit!

It was a ‘hit’ alright….you hadn’t the heart to tell him no, and Silver had no time to swap out Lilia’s batch for a palatable option. His brownies sat mostly untouched on the table for the entire party. He tried to steer some unfortunate souls friends towards them, but somehow they never met their mark. Cater tripped and dropped his on the floor. Kalim was a bit quick to add that he needs his food tested, and Jamil was always preoccupied somewhere out of sight. Grim wolfed one down but disappeared before Lilia could ask how it tasted.

At some point half the platter did go missing….Silver said that it was so good, he was the one to eat them. Well, he’s still growing. Lilia doesn’t mind but he should have saved some for everyone! This is a day meant to spread joy and love after all.

Luckily Lilia prepared. To be safe, he’d made an extra batch. One he intended just for you. He made this one extra sweet with roughly chopped coffee beans inside. The strong kind that can keep a horse for three days straight! With the most “satisfying” texture! He knew soldiers that would crunch these bad boys whole during the war, and you do have much on your plate these days. He cut them into hearts as well. Someone name a better use for his blade skills? He’ll wait.

So he leaves the party early, intent to let his boys have their fun and return later on in the evening. That night a tiny bat carrying such a heavy package zips through the kitchen window, nearly scaring the plates out of your hands.

Now. On one hand, you’re happy he’s returned. He left so sudden and you wanted more time together.

On the other?….it’s doomsday once you see that tray of brownies. Lilia is proud when he describes all the ‘beneficial’ ingredients and why he chose them just for you. It would make your heart throb if not for the fear twisting knots in your gut.

Lilia wiggles the platter just by your face, his impish grin pressing his cheeks plump. Only to be rendered stupefied when you pull out a plate of chocolate strawberries from the fridge.

These weren’t on the menu earlier. He’d recall such a cute assortment. The berries are all dipped in fun toppings as well - akin to a sweet Russian roulette packed with unexpected combinations. It seems you were more than saddened that he left early…his invitation extended past the pretense of a friendly party. The blush on your cheeks says as much.

As does a brownie from his earlier tray. You seemed to snag one, not wanting to eat it during the party aka wanting to have it when your stomach could perish in peace

While Lilia hadn’t been amiss to these developments in both your heart and his….well, he hadn’t expected a personal present. Perhaps some joking flirtations, but you were a sweet thing. Much more than he could expect, and Fae never take on matters of the heart with mirth.

This was your holiday, no? Just because it dabbles in amour does not mean you would intend to pursue a cheeky thing like himself….alas, he’s too cute to resist and so are you. Give him a moment to process and expect the party to truly begin

What are you waiting for? Have a brownie <3

Head of the ‘Gimmie Gimmie Brigade’. Ace isn’t invested, but he’s also not disinterested. Valentines seems like something people over at Royal Sword Academy would buy into. From the way you’re talking about it - a holiday meant to celebrate lovers and all the amorous things in life is way too goody-goody for Night Raven.

No one here’s happy enough to buy into that. Wait - no, scratch that. They’re all miserable but with a bit of tweaking it could have some merit. Thing is that people here are way too invested in themselves to ever pull a gift exchange or be open about their *gag* feelings

Of course, Ace only aims to shut you down when it comes to spreading the love with campus. You want to keep it within Heartslabyul? Better yet, just between the two of you? He’s all for it. We all know he’s just talking it down to look cool. This is his plan from the get-go.

Hey. Think you guys could get a holiday excuse from class? Is this a religious thing? No? Damn. Can you lie and say it is?

Ace knows you’ll go out of your way to make something for everyone - if ya do it at all. Which is likely since once an idea gets set into that skull of yours, Ace knows it’s better to just ride the coaster than try to hop off…

For a holiday meant for lovers, you’re sure dense. Has he told you that you’re a Dummy yet? Yeah? Well he’s going to say it about every other hour, because you’re completely missing his signals. It has to be on purpose. He is absolutely sure that you’re screwing with him, making candy for all these other dudes.

For all his complaining, Ace isn’t going to let anyone ruin your holiday spirit. His protective side comes out and Ace is right there doing the delivery route too. He’ll hand over the candy on your behalf to anyone that even looks like they’ll give a bit of lip. A bit more harsh than necessary too, with his little challenging squint. Again. He seriously thinks you should’ve kept this to Heartslabyul and maybe your close friends…other dorms don’t deserve it.

He also makes a point to enforce that it is obligatory chocolate, given as a gesture of good will as a new Ramshackle Holiday. So no one gets any funny ideas…chk. Dream logged bastards.

As part of the gimmie gimmie parade, he expects a gift of his own. Ace makes sure to snag one (or three) of the candy bags while you guys walk around….and for his leg work? He wants to sleep over. So you better give him the bed. He takes your easy compliance as a won victory, and sticks his tongue out to Deuce while packing his bag cause it’s ‘helpers only’ night.

On one hand? Bro is happy the day is done with. It was good giving a bit back and seeing you so happy. Although he will once again say that you shouldn’t have given chocolate to so many guys - just to really grill it in there before bed

Speaking of the bed? It’s so nice. Much better than a stuffy dorm with three other guys…that is, until you rip the sheets out from under him and send Ace’s ass to the floor. He’s this close to doing the same. His hand’s reaching over the bedside with malicious intent, but your head pops over the ledge and points to the clock

11:58pm - the day’s almost done, and you’ve got a last surprise for him. Tadaaaa! Cherry cordial chocolates. Just for Ace. Did you really have to push him out of bed for it? No, but he was a whiney jerk all day so you felt it was right.

Ace is peeved. Not enough to yank you down anymore, but he takes the entire box of candy and starts to eat them all in one-go so you can’t have any. They’re his, yeah? Special jussssst for him? Maybe this isn’t a bad holiday after all…so long as you don’t do anything special for another guy.

For all your ‘good will’…he’ll be happy to drag you along to an ice-cream parlor on White Day. With a bit of wordplay, getting the day placed as mandatory activity is a breeze.

The only way to catch Malleus by surprise is when he’s most vulnerable. Aka…morning hours. Surely he lets his guard down more when it is just you and him, but there’s still decorum. There is still calculation. There is still a working braincell in his head.

And oh do you wish to surprise him. Just once in this lifetime. He loves hearing stories about your world and sharing thoughts. You couldn’t spend the winter holiday together. Everyone left campus and so you partied with Grim and the ghosts….but now there is a chance to give Malleus a cultural experience!

Which means you will need to enlist help. Insert Vanrouge, who unceremoniously hints that the dear Ramshackle Prefect is freezing their tukus off in a dorm with only a hearth to heat the building.

Hook. Oh, woe is the prefect. Humans can get sick from the cold and even die from hypothermia.

Line. Despite the fire fairies working hard to maintain NRC’s temperature during the cold months, Ramshackle is still on the tail end of their list. Other dorms take precedent due to their population.

Sinker. The poor prefect, all alone in that large building. They toughed out the winter but there’s supposed to be an unexpected ice storm this weekend! Possibly the biggest that the Isle has seen in years! Hopefully they stocked up on firewood and safety gear.

And thus, an invitation was extended.

Malleus is hardly one to insist, then again he’s rarely denied. Yet your body is a temple and he would love to have you as a guest. Better yet, transfer to Diasomnia? No? Okay. Guest will do. You can even stay in the room next to his. It’s been empty since his enrollment, and he will personally see to your safety.

Little does he know that there will be no ice storm, you are as fit as a fiddle, and Lilia will do anything to give Malleus a fun surprise.

Truth be told - Malleus thought you were a bit quiet. Mayhaps secretive. At first he thought you felt intimidated by his dormitory, and it saddened him so. He did lay the invitation on thick but it was for your safety! You wouldn’t let anyone carry your bags, not even when he offered to teleport them to your quarters.

While you chat the first night away, sipping tea and enjoying each other’s company in the lounge…a rare evening for him indeed. He quite likes the sight of you in Diasomnia with him. Regardless, Malleus goes to bed with a disquieted heart. He hopes you like it here, and that he won’t feel off-put when it is time for you to go home. Malleus remembers how he felt when you disappeared to the Isle of Woe. It was unpleasant to say the least.

Unsuspecting and a bit miffed from missed sleep - Malleus wakes the next day with an unceremonious stretch and yawn. He’s about to get ready for the day when there’s a loud string of crashes and thuds from the next room. Needless to say, he forgoes to even put on his slippers before teleporting over.

….

Concern is definitely a word that describes one of the various emotions going on. Bewildered is another. Also something else - lacking definitim and unfamiliar. It teeters somewhere on the cusp between good and bad. A weird, twisted fondness that he’s only felt in your presence on occasion.

You stacked a chair on top of the dresser, trying to hang paper streamers of hearts and snowflakes across the ceiling. Grim was hissing curses while trying to lift said dresser off you, because the whole thing came crashing down in the process.

Along with the curtains. The rod barely clung to the window, with one end hanging in the air. A splatter of melted icecream cake streamed down the wall and onto the floor. It left stark streak of red against Diasomnia’s brick

Your expression - utterly horrified. He can ascertain that without any hints. Not with fear but just complete mortification. Malleus has no idea what’s going on, but it’s so ridiculous that he’s biting down laughter while levitating the dresser back to it’s normal state. His brain was lagging behind just -

What lets him loose is the little ‘surprise?’ you squeak once freed - which is is nothing but a grasp at straws as you try and fail to salvage the wall cake. By the time Lilia comes to check on your ‘progress,’ he finds Malleus laughing harder then ever.

All this just to surprise him? Oh. Please tell him the entire story from idea to execution. People go to extreme lengths for Malleus all the time, but this is just something so entirely….hm. That feeling isn’t going away. It seems all he needs to do is think about your clumsy efforts and it comes around again.

This is a gift in itself. He must know how to reciprocate appropriately, so what do you wish for this ‘White Day’? He hasn’t been this excited to gift something in quite some time.

Special Mention : Grim!!

This little shit.

This smug little shit.

Grim thinks he’s sooooooo smart. Doesn’t matter who you’re making treats for - he’s claiming tax on every bag. It’s a one for you, one for me scenario.

Every batch of chocolate prepared comes with that forsaken paw stretching up past the counter, the ‘gimmie’ motion is getting old. He needs new tricks or else you’ll swat him with the rolling pin next.

Valentines day? That’s another human holiday, huh? He ain’t heard of it….but if it’s important to you, then he’ll bite. It helps that he gets free food out of it.

And tuna. Lots of tuna. Grim doesn’t want to see you give ANYONE else a gift that’s bigger than his. They don’t deserve it. None of them do. Maybe Ace and Deuce….and Jack, but that’s it. Even if they get somethin’ big, Grim’s should be better

Which is exactly why by the time Valentines day comes, he’s on his ‘nth’ can of tuna and you physically have to take privilege away before your pockets go dry.

Why’s it like this? Because you’re his henchman. You shouldn’t love anyone else more than you love him. You’re a team.

He sees you give the ghosts chocolate and tries to swipe it. They can’t even eat the stuff! Why bother?

Thus, Grim gets his little but chased out of the kitchen…and the dorm…and all the other dorms since he’s tailing your delivery runs

Grim doesn’t care too much about the meaning behind Valentines day. Yet no one getting your candy better be ungrateful, or expect anythin’ more than obligatory gifts. He has claws and will use them. He ain’t known his ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ too well before NRC…but these guys better use it or they’re getting fried tooshie instead of sweet nothings.

And at the end of the day? He doesn’t have much to offer ya in return, but there’s a stack of ‘favor’ coupons smacked over your head right before bed. Isn’t a big stack, since Grim can only tame himself so much…but they’re exchangeable for good kitty behavior! There’s one for uninterrupted studying, one to have the bed to yourself for a night, one for a free delivery, and a few chore coupons. His handwriting is hard to read, but you assume Riddle helped with the arrangement from the nice stationary and perfect spelling.

Don’t go using them all at once either!…by the time he’s done bashfully giving you his ‘perfect’ gift, Grim’s already curled up next to you and passed out cold. It’s a food coma for the books.

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