#‘it’s too much uh what do you want me to do about it’ like oh brother it’s oh woe me shit with these ppl

[kathaynesart]

And here we go. For the full experience I would recommend reading while listening to THIS SONG. It inspired a vast majority of the scene as well as the timing, though I fear you'd have to read pretty fast to get to the ending at the same time as the song ends, so uh... good luck! Trigger warnings below:

The Day the Sky Bled Red

BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT (SOON) MASTER POST

Whew. I'm so glad to finally be done with these big updates. After over a year I will finally be able to return to my smaller update format.

Some keen viewers might notice the reuse of certain shots from the series. There is very much intentional, though the reason for this will not be made clear until the ending of the arc.

As of the final shot we are FINALLY back to present-day in the Replica timeline (if it wasn't obvious). I'd drop in a timeline for reference but uh... I maxed out on the Tumblr images. Oh well. Hopefully the context clues were enough to help though!

I do want to take a moment to TED Talk about Raph's ninpo, if that's alright. Unlike his brothers, Raph didn't really spend much time trying to come up with unique ways of using his abilities. Why improve what already worked for him? However, I do think one interesting ability could have come naturally to him over time. I always found his way of mentally connecting with his brothers as "Mind Raph" to be a fascinating joke in the series. They way he could help and communicate with his brothers is something that was always really important to him and I see that ability bleeding into his ninpo. Because of this I feel that his Raph clones were always able to find and reach his brothers no matter the distance. His ability to interact with them at the same time was something he was still learning in the series, like when Mind Raph apologized to Leo for taking a moment too long to respond because he was busy helping someone else. Because of this I see his clones being able to react and communicate independently (kind of like Naruto clones), but are in constant connection to the original source, Raph himself. This made it really easy for Raph to relay information to the brothers, though it was seldom needed since Donnie's ninpo tech normally had that covered. On another note, I also wanted to make a point that whenever one of the brothers died in the bad future timeline, it was when they were separated from their brothers. I always liked in the movie how it wasn't until the brothers worked together that they were able to regain their abilities, confront the Krang, and even open portals to different dimensions. I wanted that lesson to resonate in Replica as well, even if subtly. Anyways, thanks for coming to my TED Talk!

The rest of the arc will be a lot less action, but still plenty more emotions. I can't promise that we won't be doing more flashbacks in the future but nothing to the extent of the "Holiday Special." We got a story to get through after all!

Thank you so much everyone for your patience with me as I slowly inch my way through this big story. It means a lot to me! I promise the next update will not be so emotionally draining.

[philosians]

ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴄᴇ

a three week paid-vacation provided by your captain gave rise to the opportunity to finally show you the gift sylus had gotten you. and no, it isn’t the yacht you’re on—but he wouldn’t be opposed to giving you that either.

[ !! ] — mdni | established relationship, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy mention, fingering, oral (female receiving), praise kink, mating press, unprotected sex, sylus is soft in the bedroom okay now hush ;; alcohol mention (sylus drinks whiskey), fluff. oh did I mention soft! sylus?? uhhh maybe more tags than this idk there’s a lot going on lmao. unedited af I know that’s a warning. if y’all see cut sentences just know it’s a brain glitch >.< lol

a/n: Happy Valentine’s Day! phew i got this out before it ended hehe just in the nick of time. I do wanna forewarn everyone I don’t actively write smut so I deeply apologize for any sort of repetitiveness or just it being inaccurate and rushed overall, my apologies. but please enjoy reading! bc i wanna curl up and die and delete this after writing it actually lmao I’ll probably never write anything like this again haha

word count: roughly 4.8k

The starry expanse of sky moves quickly outside of the window of the car, nothing but a blur of cosmic colors. Where you’re going you’re not quite sure, with all the secrecy from Sylus and the twins. It’s something Sylus has clearly planned for awhile, from the way he wanted you to dress tonight, but you’re still unable to put your finger on it.

At the very least, you’re glad that Kieran is the one that’s driving instead of Luke.

“Are you two going to tell me where we’re going yet?”

“Afraid not, Miss,” Kieran replies. “That’d be against orders from Boss.”

“Are we at least almost there yet?” you ask.

“We have about ten more minutes,” Luke chirps. “Then you’ll finally get to see Boss, don’t worry.”

You’re stunned into a mild fluster and look at your hands in your lap. You heard the twins snicker and you can’t help but shake your head incredulously. Oh well. You’re almost to your destination anyway.

After the last two months of an increase in Wanderer appearances, you could most certainly use a break. It’s been nothing short of hectic, battles here and evacuations there and the occasional dumbass that doesn’t want to listen to the warnings given out that an area is too dangerous to go into.

You softly sigh. You really shouldn’t be thinking about work.

You tug the large coat on your shoulders over you further, closing your eyes and sinking into the warmth and the smell of the man it belonged to.

Whatever in the world Sylus had planned must be big, even so that he couldn’t be bothered to tell even the twins exactly what he had in store. All the three of you knew was that he had a surprise, and the two brothers were more than happy to have the opportunity to have the base to themselves.

You just wish you knew where you were going.

“Is this it?”

“I think so. Ah, there’s Boss.”

Oh, already?

True to word, you open your eyes and see a familiar patch of silver against the darkness of the world. And you also happen to see a very, very large yacht not far from him.

A marina? You blink incredulously. A private fucking marina. Good lord, how much money does this man really have?

Upon stopping, you watch as Sylus turns his head slightly to the car. Luke quickly jumps from the passenger side and opens the door for you, ushering his hand outward dramatically and says, “After you, Miss.”

The heel of your shoe clicks against pavement as you step out, holding Luke’s hand for stability until you find your balance.

“Thanks, Luke.”

“Not a problem! Enjoy the honey— Uh, vacation!”

Luke jumps back into the car, more than likely to save himself from your questioning eyes. You can’t help but shake your head and make your way toward Sylus and the man in uniform, more than likely the captain of the yacht.

“Ah, Mrs. Sylus,” greets the captain with a tilt of his hat. His eyes blink as he does a once-over on you and then laughs. “I was wondering what kind of woman would tie such a man down, and now I understand. Please, come aboard.”

Your brows raise at Sylus as the captain pivots and boards the yacht. “Care to explain that?”

Sylus, in all his audacity, simply shrugs and smiles. “Nothing to explain, sweetie. He came up with that himself after I told him my lady would be joining me.”

You scoff in disbelief, but can’t help the small smile that falls to your lips. You take Sylus’s arm, wrapped your hand in the crook of his elbow as he leads you onto the ship.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, gazing around as he takes you to the deck. And you could only imagine what it would be like when you went out to sea.

“I figured you would like it,” he murmurs. “Glad to see my instincts weren’t wrong.”

You don’t miss the way his red eyes look to you, knowing he’s waiting for your words of affirmation. You laugh behind your hand, because yeah, he’s right.

You hum, taking his hand in your own. “Thank you for considering me.”

You also don’t miss the way his large fingers eagerly twine with your own, nor the way his eyes soften and blend with devotion and affection.

“Always.”

Thirty minutes pass before the ship takes off into the open sea. You barely feel it until Sylus has you stand to take you back outside from the dining area.

“So, where are we going?” you ask, gazing up at him.

Sylus’s mouth twitches into a smirk. “It’s a surprise.”

You grumble, humoring the man. “Of course it is.”

Sylus’s coat never leaves your shoulders the couple hours you’re both out on the deck. He seems to enjoy that, too; you wearing his clothes sparks something behind his eyes that you’re all too familiar with. The thought itself has your cheeks warming and thighs pressing together.

He flicks his wrist to check his watch when a timer beeps twice. You can’t help it when your eyes linger on his hand. You’ve always had a fixation on his them—on how big and warm they are in comparison to yours, on how his long fingers stretch across your body, and how they gently wrap around you and pull you close like he’d die without touching you. Those hands that had once forced you to attempt to resonate with him for three days had become soft, remorseful and loving. And he’d more than earned your forgiveness.

“Dinner should be ready.”

You grin. “You brought your chef?”

“Just for this trip,” he retorts, standing to full height. “Come.” His hand outstretches to you and you take it without hesitation.

You don’t miss the way his eyes briefly light up at the way your fingers immediately interlace with his. It’s a small joy to you, but to him it means everything—a testament to how far the two of you have come.

Dinner, as always, is perfect. Dessert even more so. You’re not too full, but more than satisfied. You give your compliments to the chef, who in turn happily skips back to the kitchen like he’s on cloud nine. And you can’t help but look at Sylus and smile as he downs his whiskey like it’s water.

“You don’t compliment your chef enough,” you comment. “One sentence from me and he acts like he’s never heard praise.”

Sylus hums as his brows raise, humored. He chuckles with the whiskey in his mouth before swallowing it to retort, “He knows his cooking is excellent. I suppose I just have a limit to how many compliments I can give out in a day.”

You place your chin in your hand. “Oh, really? Then how many do I get to have in a day?”

Adoration fills his ruby orbs. “As many as you want, my beloved.”

His hand reaches for your left over the table. Sylus’s thumb rubs over your fingers, resting atop your ring finger.

“Have I told you that you look exquisite tonight?” he whispers.

“You haven’t,” you reply cheekily. “I think you owe me a few more, don’t you think?”

The soft music in the background dies as you begin to hear your heart thunder in your ears. You do hope that Sylus can’t hear it pounding away like you can.

“Seems like I do,” he says in an exhale, leaning back in his seat but not letting go of your hand. His eyes have changed—once filled with adoration, now filled with a fire that makes heat rise to your cheeks and desire burn between your legs. “I don’t think I’ve shown you the bedroom yet, have I?”

You grin. “You haven’t. I’d like to see it.”

But what you don’t anticipate is your man standing and abruptly lifting you into a one arm carry. Your sharply inhale in surprise, arms immediately weave around his neck for support, but you know he’d never drop you anyway.

You trail your nose under his jaw, pressing a long kiss to his skin by his ear. Your fingers dig into his shoulder, the subtle presser making him hasten his long strides.

“Sweetheart—” Sylus gulps as you press two fingers to his mouth to silence him.

You pepper slow kisses down his neck, nipping at the skin every other kiss. It’s when you reach his collarbone you hear the click of a door. And seconds later you find the plush fabric of blankets underneath you and Sylus’s firm hand cradling the back of your head as he tilts your head back to capture your lips with his.

Between each heated kiss you attempt to catch your breath, only for your lover to devour your mouth with his own again and again.

“Mmmh— Sylus, let me—” another kiss “—catch my breath.”

He has a hard time pulling away. Sylus rests on one knee at the edge of the bed, hands grasping at the back of your bare calves as he catches his own breath and tries to pull himself back to his senses before he finishes himself off early.

While you toss your head back and close your eyes, trying to let oxygen catch up to your brain, Sylus lifts his head to look at you. He drinks in your appearance—the starry night sky sewn into the strapless obsidian dress (one that he had specially made for you) accentuated your body exactly the way he envisioned.

As he watches your breasts rise and fall with every breath, he feels his pants tighten even more. He’s so painfully hard just from simply kissing you—a testament to what you do to him, how deeply you affect him.

He rests his head against the plush of your thigh. As he trails his hand down your leg, he realizes you still have your heels on.

Your head snaps up at the feeling of one heel coming off, then the other.

“Sylus, what— Oh, shit.”

The momentum of him lifting your body further up the bed and hiking your dress up catches you off guard. His mouth latches to your thighs, kissing and biting all the way up until he reaches the fabric of your panties—the only thing between him and what he wants.

“Such a dark red, darling,” he hums. “Was this for me?”

“It might’ve been,” you tease.

As his finger loops around the red fabric covering you, Evol ready to help rip it off, your hand makes its way into his hair and tugs, forcing his eyes to attention.

“Rip these, I’m okay with that. Rip the dress, and I’ll kill you,” you say, half-joking. But damn did you really like this dress.

He chuckles, eyes glazed with lust. “Understood.”

As soon as he tears them away and hikes your dress even further around your hips, Sylus’s mouth does nothing short of devour your pussy. You let out the loudest, wanton moan you’ve ever heard from yourself as his tongue buries itself in and against your folds. Your head falls back against the pillows, hands moving to grip the sheets beneath you to maintain some semblance of being grounded as Sylus eats you out like a starved man. Your legs are over his shoulders, allowing him the best access to your womanhood.

“Oh— Fuuuck, Sylus. Ohmygod, please don’t stop,” you beg, threading one hand through his hair again, grip tighter than earlier.

His reply comes in the form of him pushing his thick middle finger inside of you and mouth sucking on your clit. You wail, bucking your hips into his mouth. His ring finger promptly follows, stretching your cunt and sinking deep inside of your walls. Tears of overstimulation line your eyes as you grasp at then pillow behind your head.

Both hands twine into his silver locks of hair, pressing him deeper into you. What you miss amidst your own haze of ecstasy is Sylus grinding himself against the mattress to find some sense of relief. His mind is at war, wanting nothing more than to cum right then and there versus wanting to watch his seed spill from your hole. It takes every ounce of self-control of his own body to not climax while he simultaneously loses his mind while his mouth is attached to your cunt.

“Don’t— Please— Sylus! Sylus, I’m gonna—”

Your back arches off of the bed, and you can’t help but press him further into you and grind against his face. Sylus’s arms wrap around your thighs, holding you steady. The deep groan of his satisfaction that leaves him only spurs you on further and further and further until your thighs clench around his head and you cum. Hard.

And Sylus more than enjoys sucking and licking away at your release as you climax, prolonging it as much as he can. He lifts your lower body into the air as he continues his onslaught of your pussy with his mouth and tongue, the pressure of your thighs on either side of his head making him dizzy. Your essence coats his chin and nose, your scent driving all his senses wild and pulls the remainder of his blood down to his cock.

He gains a free hand as you tighten your legs around his shoulders. He unbuckles his belt and slips it off with practiced ease before moving to unzip and unbutton his pants, tugging away at them.

When your hips stop shaking is when Sylus grabs your thighs with both hands and sets your body back down on the mattress. He hovers over you once again, taking in your disheveled appearance and partially-lidded eyes. His long fingers brush your skin and cradle your jaw.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he asks.

You pant and gaze up at him. “Barely.” You swallow. “That tongue of yours is brutal.”

Sylus laughs. It’s almost enough to make him forget about the painful fact that his cock is straining against his pants. Until your knee brushes against it when you lift yourself from the bed and he groans.

You giggle as his head presses against your shoulder.

“You really shouldn’t neglect yourself like that,” you hum, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

Sylus’s lips meet your neck opposite of your arm wrapped around him and presses a long kiss to your sweaty skin, murmuring hotly into your ear, “There’s no one to blame but you, beloved. And I highly suggest you take responsibility.”

You moan and arch into him as his hands work on your dress, unzipping the back entirely and lowering it just below your breasts. You arch your back so he can undo the bra, and as soon as it’s on the floor, his mouth is on your chest. Sylus sucks and bites at your nipples, worshipping them and your breasts as he grinds his clothed erection into your bare pussy, soaking his dress pants in your juices.

You begin unbutton his shirt through the haze of your desire… before you slip your hands through the remaining buttons and fully rip his dress shirt apart, exposing his thick torso. You both chuckle at the sound of the buttons hitting the floor.

“Impatient?”

“Like you aren’t,” you remark.

Sylus shrugs off his shirt in a fluid motion and tosses it to the side from one arm. You manage to slide off your dress within a few moments, just as Sylus manages to get off his pants and briefs and… Oh…

You’d almost forgotten how big he is. Sure, the two of you have spent a couple more… sensual evenings together since you had him use your place as a safe house (and then him bringing you to his), but it always makes you shudder when your eyes land between the apex of his muscular thighs.

His tip weeps with precum, heavy cock red and flushed and—

Sylus’s breath is hot against your ear as he asks, “Like what you see, darling?”

—goddamn it you need it inside of you.

Your nails dig into his bicep, your other hand wrapping around his neck to pull him into a heated kiss, and Sylus is more than happy to oblige. His kiss is deep and reverent. A small moan escapes him as you two briefly pull apart for air before diving back into one another.

Everything is hot; your cheeks are flushed with the heat of desire and your pussy aches to have Sylus buried inside of you.

You pull him down on top of you with the arm around his neck, your other hand grasping his cock and positioning it at your entrance. Sylus hisses, hips bucking slightly as his fingers clench at his attempts at restraint.

“Fuck,” he pants. His red eyes clear for a moment, turning into a gentleness reserved for you as he asks, “You think you can take it?”

“I think you ate me out enough earlier I’ll manage,” you joke. Then your nails dig into the meat of his back, the sensation making him softly hiss again. “But if you don’t I’ll be doing it for you then.”

Sylus chuckles, nose dipping to your collarbone.

“My beloved is always so greedy, isn’t she?”

There is no retort from you—only a loud moan as Sylus’s tip enters you fills the room. He stops after that though, and as you look up to him to ask him why he stopped, you’re stunned at the sight before you.

Sylus is flushed red, panting and sweating as his muscles flex.

“Sylus?”

“Don’t,” he warns, shaking his head. “Give me… a moment. You feel… too good.”

The implication is clear. Sylus’s head falls as he inches himself a little further, delighting in hearing you gasp as he sinks more and more inches of himself inside of you. It takes all he has not to just cum at the feel of you; every ounce of self-control he has is being tested. He’s never been harder in his life, and being inside of the woman he loves—who feels like heaven wrapped around his cock—only proceeds to spiral him into a deeper pit of pleasure.

“Sylus… Sylus, more, please,” you hears you beg.

He’s halfway in, trying to take his time and let the romance of the evening last. But at that, and the sensation of your nails digging into his back, he finds himself a goner and lets his hips fall into yours, sinking the remainder of his fat cock into the depths of your wet pussy. A deep shudder passes through him, bliss running through his body.

“Fuck. Fuck, you feel divine,” Sylus says in a deep exhale.

“You’re so big,” you gasp, eyes clouded with the haze of lust. “Oh, Sy, you feel so good.”

The praise goes to his head immediately. He drags his cock back out slowly and a whine escapes you, hating the emptiness. But when Sylus places your legs over his shoulders and leans over you, it’s over for you both.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Sylus rolls his hips, sliding his full length back into the warm expanse of your pussy. His head falls back, and the pace he sets proceeds to bury you both alive underneath overwhelming ecstasy.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he pants, clenching his fist into the sheet. “How I feel every time I look at you? Utter perfection is all I see. Do you feel what you do to me, darling?”

All you can feel is Sylus’s weight on top of you and the feel of his heavy cock inside of you as he stretches you open on him, carving your pussy into the shape of his cock. His pelvis rubs against your clit deliciously, spurring you on further. As much as you want to drive your hips up to meet his thrusts, Sylus has you pinned down into a mating press and all you can do is take what he’s giving you.

The papping noises of your bodies meeting filled the room, sending your thoughts into an even dirtier place. He feels so good reaching so deep inside of you, tip rubbing against that special spot perfectly, like you’re made to be perfect for each other. You clench around Sylus at another thought and he inhales sharply.

“What’re you thinking about?” he questions.

You shake your head. “N-Nothing.”

His long fingers grab your jaw gently. “Tell me.”

And then he slows his pace. “No, Sylus—”

“Then tell me what my beloved is thinking in that pretty head of hers,” he murmurs into your ear. “Or else.”

“I was thinking… about… Uhm…” Sylus rolls his hips back into you, his heavy balls pressing against your ass as he awaits your answer.

“Well?”

“I, uh— A baby.”

At the word, you shy away into your arm. But Sylus doesn’t say anything, which makes you confused. After a couple seconds, you gaze back up at him. His eyes show how stunned he is, pupils blown as no doubt the word also revolves around his own mind.

“Sylus, I— Oh, fuucckk.”

His body weight presses your body into the mattress further, leaving you at his mercy as Sylus’s pace becomes brutal, like he’s let his base instincts take over. His big hand finds yours and twines your fingers together as he drives his cock into your pussy over and over and over again, the squelching noises only growing louder and louder in your ears.

“My kitten… wants a baby then?” He hums into your ear. “She wants me to cum inside of her and carry my baby, is that right?”

“It was… just a thought.”

He laughs as your pussy clenches around him more at his words.

“Seems like it’s more than just a thought.”

Sylus’s mouth meets yours in another kiss, powered by something more than just lust. Your brain turns fuzzy and hot, reality beginning to finally blur as another climax ascends from the depths of your core.

Your eyes shut as his mouth finds the sweet spot on your neck. He sucks and nips at the skin with his teeth and you’ve no doubt that there’ll be plenty of love bites scattered across your skin for days after tonight.

When he nips at your ear, you squeak and clench around him again. Sylus groans into your ear, “Do that again.”

You oblige, clenching down on him and making him piston himself in and out of you faster. Every thrust turns into one that pushes the air from your lungs. All you can see, all you can feel is Sylus—feel his body heat as he presses your body down with his; feel the thickness of his cock stretch you open and the weight of his balls as they slap against your ass.

And it feels so good. The shlick and pap noises are getting to you. The coil that’s been winding up all night finally feels like it’s about to burst. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pressing into Sylus’s firm chest.

“Ohmygod, Sy, gonna cum, gonna cum fuckfuckfuuucckkk!”

He nips at your earlobe, biting down on it gently before whispering into your ear, “Indulge, my love. Indulge and I’ll fulfill every single one of your desires tonight.”

At long last, the coil snaps. Euphoria pilots itself to your brain and all across your body. You shake from the intensity, having to wrap your arms around Sylus to ground yourself as you reach your high.

Your orgasm sends him over the edge. He thrusts a few more times before he finds himself pressing himself as deep as he can possibly go and releasing his seed inside of your pussy. It’s almost too much, even for him. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum harder than tonight.

Your bodies rock together as you both fall from the heights of cloud nine. Sylus peppers your sweaty skin with kisses, across the bruised love bites he’d left earlier.

It’s only when he feels himself soft enough to slip out of you does he ask, “A family?”

Sylus’s voice is soft. So soft in fact that you barely hear him. You take a moment to reply, only to find yourself being easily lifted from the bed and onto Sylus’s chest.

“It’s… Something that’s crossed my mind a few times,” you admit bashfully.

Silence fills the air for a moment before he asks again, in the same, quiet tone he’d just used.

“With me?”

Your smile stretches across your face instantly. Your lips meet his chest, right over his heart. Your eyes meet his—uncertainty meeting unconditional love.

“And no one else.”

The next three days after are filled with you and Sylus partaking in all the activities that his yacht has to offer (plus more intimate times across the boat and it’s other rooms). He’d told you at one point that he would’ve just used the one he sails on regularly. But due to him wanting to spend more time with you than anything, and for you to have fun during the trip, he’d bought another and hired the captain to ensure safe passage.

Tonight however, was the night that you both were supposed to be arriving at your destination. You tried to help the anxiety and giddiness inside of you, trying to flatten it under a cool demeanor but Sylus just saw right through you.

Of course he would.

“There’s no reason to be nervous. It’s not like I’m taking you into enemy territory,” he jokes, gaze flicking to you from the stars in the open sky.

“I know that. I just can’t help it,” you mutter.

You shiver from the cold breeze, and Sylus shrugs off his leather jacket and places it over your shoulders. He leans down and zips it partway, resting his chin atop your head.

“Those hunter instincts of yours need to settle down,” he hums.

“I wish they would— Sylus!”

A hearty chuckle leaves him as you bounce away from his hold. Your eyes narrow at his treachery.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“Don’t you try and tickle me,” you warn playfully. You slip your arms through the sleeves of his leather jacket, trying to pull the sleeves back from over your palms to point at him. “Or I’m gonna tickle you back.”

Sylus smirks and rubs his fingers together. “Is that a challenge?”

“Mr. Sylus, Mrs. Sylus,” greets a familiar voice.

Embarrassment makes you duck your head away from the captain for a brief moment before you look at him.

“Just thought I’d come and let you know we’ll be docking soon.” The captain takes his hat off and bows before you both. “Thank you for allowing me the chance to sail you both for the last three days.”

Sylus nods his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you for giving us safe passage, Arthur.”

Arthur nods, reapplies his cap and heads back to steer the ship into the upcoming port.

You don’t get to watch as he disappears since Sylus wraps his arms around you, pulling your chin to his chest. He presses a sweet kiss to your temple and murmurs, “I do believe we’re here.”

The distraction of the captain was long enough that the scenery before you had changed into the moonlit sea into a large landmass illuminated by the full moon above.

Your jaw drops open at the sight, eyes lighting up as you get closer and closer to the port where the ship would dock.

“Sylus, where are we?” you ask quietly.

“It’s an island,” he states. “One that I bought awhile back and was making… renovations for.”

“Renovations? For what?”

He laughs softly and looks at you like you’re a goddess. “For whom, you mean.”

Your eyes widen into saucers. Is he…? Could he seriously mean…?

“Sylus, you bought me an island?” you inquire, utterly flabbergasted.

“I can’t exactly un-buy it, so I do hope you’ll like it,” he replies. To your ears and yours alone you can hear his wavering tone, like he’s awaiting your disappointment. You can’t have that.

You cup his cheeks and force him to look at you again.

“Sylus, I love it; even if it’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever been gifted, I love it. It’s just going to take me time to get used to it,” you tell him. Then you step on your tippy-toes and give him an eskimo kiss. “Thank you. I love you.”

You kiss him there at the front of the ship, wrapped in his warm, protective embrace, momentarily oblivious to the world and your surroundings.

What you’re also oblivious to, and have been since the start of the trip, is the fat diamond ring that’s been tucked away, hidden in Sylus’s bottom drawer to his dresser. And also to the fact of his other reason of being nervous.

To him hoping that you’ll say ��yes” when he gets down on one knee to ask you to marry him.

But he’ll save that for later. Right now he intends to indulge and savor your lips on his and you being tucked into him, safe from the world to be loved and worshipped by him.

And hopefully, for the rest of this lifetime.

[solxamber]

Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Heartslabyul

Go here for other dorms

Riddle Rosehearts

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you approach Riddle. He’s seated in the Heartslabyul garden, engrossed in a book, completely unaware that his life is about to change forever.

Your hands are sweating. Fantastic. Nothing says “I love you” like handing someone a heart-shaped box drenched in pure nervousness.

“Riddle,” you say, voice admirably steady despite the chaos in your soul.

He looks up, eyes widening slightly at your presence. “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”

You very calmly thrust the box toward him like a knight presenting a sacred relic. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I made this for you.”

The change is immediate.

Riddle freezes, his entire face flaring up like a traffic light on its final warning. His fingers twitch as he hesitantly accepts the box, staring at it as if you’d just handed him the crown of a foreign kingdom.

“You… made this? For me?” His voice is slightly higher than usual. The poor guy is barely holding it together.

You nod, feeling your heart slam against your ribs. “Yeah. And, um… I like you. A lot.”

For a second, you’re terrified he might actually faint. His ears are burning, his posture unnaturally stiff as he processes your words in real time. You can practically see the gears in his head jamming.

Then, slowly, carefully, he sets the box on the table beside him, takes a breath, and stands.

And before you can react, he takes your hand in his, bows slightly, and presses the lightest, most delicate kiss against your knuckles.

It’s so soft. So warm. So utterly, devastatingly polite—yet scandalously romantic—that your brain completely short-circuits.

He lifts his gaze to yours, still impossibly red but full of something achingly genuine. “I… accept your feelings,” he murmurs, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly. “And I—I… I like you as well."

You’re gone. This is too much. His flustered sincerity should not be this cute.

Riddle clears his throat, attempting to compose himself—but he absolutely fails because his blush is creeping down his neck now. “A-Anyway. Shall we have tea together? I’d… like to enjoy this properly.”

You nod, still speechless.

Somehow, this went even better than expected.

Trey Clover

You’re standing in an empty classroom, clutching your carefully wrapped box of chocolates like it’s a lifeline. The room is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock and the absolute hurricane of nerves raging inside you.

Trey stands across from you, looking as effortlessly cool and put-together as ever, the picture of someone who probably never panics over something as simple as chocolate. Which is unfair, actually, because you’ve been agonizing over this moment.

“I, uh…” You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I made these for you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Trey blinks in surprise before his expression softens into something warm. “Oh?” He takes the box with careful hands, like it’s something precious. “You made these yourself?”

You nod, but you can’t bring yourself to watch him open it, your stomach twisting into a knot. “Yeah. I know they’re probably not as good as what you make, but—”

“You’re nervous.”

You flinch when you feel the lightest touch under your chin, his fingers tilting your face up. You hadn’t even noticed him stepping closer.

Your breath catches when you meet his eyes. They’re so gentle, full of something soft and unreadable, and suddenly, this moment feels a lot bigger than just some chocolates.

“You really think I’d compare this to something I bake?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing just below your eyes before dropping away. “You made this for me. That alone makes it special.”

Your heart is going through it.

“I—” You swallow, trying to gather your thoughts before you combust. “Trey, I like you. That’s… that’s why I wanted to do this.”

There’s a small pause. And then—his smile.

It’s real, not his usual easygoing grin but something genuine, touched, and just a little bit shy.

“I like you too,” he says, his voice warm as honey.

Oh. Oh.

You barely have time to process it before he straightens up, still holding the chocolates in one hand while the other slides into his pocket. “Come on,” he says, nodding toward the door. “Let me walk you back.”

You blink. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His smile quirks at the edges, teasing now. “Gotta make sure you don’t run off before I can ask you out properly, right?”

Your heart is doomed.

Cater Diamond

You find Cater in a quiet hallway between classes, leaning against the wall and idly scrolling through his phone. The second he notices you approaching, he perks up, flashing you an easy grin.

"Hey, hey! Fancy seeing you here." His eyes flicker down to the heart-shaped box in your hands, and his grin turns teasing. "Ooooh, what’s this? Someone’s got a Valentine?”

Your stomach is doing backflips. But you force yourself to hold out the box, pretending you’re not dying inside.

“For you,” you manage, voice steady despite the heat creeping up your neck.

Cater blinks. Once. Twice. His usual playful energy pauses, just for a second.

“For me?” His voice is light, but there’s something in it—something careful. “Like… me, me?”

You nod, heart hammering. “Yeah. I like you, Cater. That’s… why I made them.”

And for the first time ever, you see Cater Diamond speechless.

He just stands there, staring at you like you’ve just told him the greatest plot twist of the century. Then, all at once, his grin returns—brighter, realer, and just a little bit unsteady.

“You’re serious?” He lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. “Like, you—out of everyone—actually like me?”

“Obviously?” You shift the box toward him, raising a brow. “You gonna take these or what?”

The teasing snaps him out of it, and he laughs, reaching forward to grab the chocolates and, in the same movement, presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

Your brain blue-screens.

“There,” he says, still grinning as he pulls back. “A little thank-you for totally making my day.”

You open your mouth—whether to yell, combust, or actually form words, you’re not sure—but he’s already linking his arm with yours, spinning you both toward the exit.

“Sooo, where do you wanna go for our first date?”

“What—wait, first date?”

“Duh!” He holds up the chocolates with a wink. “You confess, I accept, we date—it’s the natural order of things.”

An absolute success.

Ace Trappola

You don’t even get the chance to find Ace before Ace finds you.

"Whoa, what’s this?" His voice is all mock innocence as he suddenly appears at your side, eyes locked onto the box of chocolates in your hands. He gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like he’s just witnessed a scandal unfold. "No way. You? Giving out chocolates? Some poor soul's gonna get victimized today."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Victimized?"

"Yeah, y'know—" He gestures vaguely, rocking back on his heels. "Swept up, led on, utterly ruined for anyone else. Tragic, really."

He’s dying of jealousy. You can see it. Feel it. Smell it in the air like cheap cologne.

You roll your eyes, already fed up. "Well, if you’re so concerned, maybe I should just eat them myself."

Ace laughs. "What, you’d steal your own chocolates? That’s cold."

"Not really, considering they were meant for you."

Silence.

Ace stares at you, frozen mid-smirk. His brain just blue-screened. You can see the processing bar loading at 2% completion.

"...Huh?"

You sigh, shifting the box in your hands. "I made them for you, dumbass. But if you don’t want them, I guess—"

You don’t get to finish that sentence because suddenly, Ace is clutching the box to his chest like it’s the last treasure on earth.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up—who said I didn’t want them? I want them!" He’s grinning now, the brightest, cockiest, happiest grin you’ve ever seen on him. "You serious? You really made these for me?"

You cross your arms. "Yeah. But you’re being a brat, so I kinda regret it now."

"Nah, too late! No take-backs!" He laughs, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. Then—softer, realer, a little bit breathless— "You really like me, huh?"

You hesitate, suddenly flustered under the weight of his gaze. "...Yeah."

His fingers tighten around the box. "Good. 'Cause I like you too."

Your breath catches.

Ace tilts his head, there’s a warmth in his eyes now—something soft, relieved, like he’s been waiting for this. "Thought you’d never notice, y’know? Been here the whole time, just waiting."

You scoff, rolling your eyes to cover how fast your heart is beating. "And yet you were so ready to tease me about it."

"Of course!" He throws an arm around your shoulders, grinning like he’s just won the lottery. "What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t mess with you at least a little?"

"Boyfriend?!"

"Uh, yeah? You confessed, I accepted, now you’re stuck with me forever. Basic math."

Mission accomplished (You think?)

Deuce Spade

It’s just another casual hangout, nothing out of the ordinary—except for the heart-shaped box of chocolates you’ve been hiding behind your back like it’s a live explosive.

Deuce is sitting on your couch, totally unaware of the internal chaos happening mere feet away. He’s relaxed, chatting about his day, but the second you clear your throat and step forward, he pauses mid-sentence, sensing danger.

"Uh… you good?" he asks, blinking up at you.

"Yeah. Fine. Totally normal." You inhale, ignore the full-body cringe threatening to consume you, and hold out the box. "This is for you. Happy Valentine’s Day."

Deuce freezes. Like, actually freezes.

His eyes dart between you and the chocolates like he’s trying to make sure this isn’t some cruel prank. His hands are shaking just a little when he reaches out, carefully accepting the box like it might disappear if he blinks too fast.

"You—" His voice cracks, and he immediately clears his throat, ears burning red. "You made these? For me?"

You nod, trying so hard to play it cool. "Yeah. I like you, so… yeah."

For a second, nothing happens. Then—his grin.

It’s shy, just a little wobbly, but so ridiculously bright that your stomach does a full gymnastics routine.

"You… like me," he repeats, as if he needs to say it out loud to believe it.

"Unless you don’t want them, in which case, I can just—"

"No!" He clutches the box to his chest like it’s his most prized possession. "No way, I—I want them. I just—" He exhales, a little breathless, still grinning like an idiot. "I can’t believe this is happening."

You barely have time to process that before he straightens up, determination flickering in his eyes.

"Can I—" He swallows. "Can I take you on a date? I mean, since you—since we—" He gestures vaguely at the chocolates, too flustered to form a proper sentence.

You laugh, heart so stupidly full. "Yeah, Deuce. I’d love that."

His breath catches. Then he nods—fast, like he’s locking it in before reality can take it away. "O-Okay. Cool. Great. I’ll—I'll plan something good, I promise."

You grin. "I’d expect nothing less."

Deuce beams.

He looks down at the chocolates again, still holding them like the most precious thing in the world.

And honestly? You think this might be the best decision you’ve ever made.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[jiminomenon]

model! karina meets assistant! reader’s family

pairing: model! karina x assistant! reader

word count: 1k+

summary: when jimin spots y/n laughing with a gorgeous stranger at a café, jealousy flares up, and she wastes no time strutting over to interrupt. armed with sharp remarks and passive-aggressive digs, she’s ready to stake her claim—until she finds out the “stranger” is actually y/n’s younger sister. turns out, y/n’s entire family is in seoul for a visit, and jimin, the reason y/n hasn’t been able to take any time off, suddenly finds herself face-to-face with the people who know y/n best.

from my series: the devil wears prada

a/n: happy valentines to these 2 idiots right here

jimin was not in a good mood.

she had been on her way to grab coffee when she spotted y/n sitting at an outdoor café across the street. that wasn’t the problem—y/n was always running errands, always moving, always working, and somehow, always looking good while doing it.

no, the problem was the girl sitting across from her.

she was pretty. too pretty. and she was laughing—too much, too close, touching y/n’s arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

jimin hated her instantly.

with a scowl, she marched across the street, her heels clicking against the pavement with purpose. by the time she reached their table, y/n was mid-sentence, her lips curled into a fond smile as the mystery girl giggled at something she had said.

“oh, y/n, you’re so—”

“who’s this?” jimin cut in, sliding smoothly into the conversation as if she had been invited. she rested a hand on y/n’s shoulder, staking her claim before shooting the other girl a not-so-subtle once-over.

y/n blinked, surprised. “jimin?”

jimin ignored her, eyes still locked onto the girl like a cat sizing up a rival. the girl, to her credit, only tilted her head, a bemused smile tugging at her lips.

“uh… hi?” she greeted, offering a polite nod.

“hi,” jimin echoed, though her tone was anything but polite. she shifted slightly, her presence now looming over the table. “you are?”

y/n exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “jimin—”

“i’m lia,” the girl answered easily, unfazed by jimin’s sharp tone. “y/n’s younger sister.”

silence.

jimin froze.

y/n stared.

lia smiled.

“her what?” jimin asked, voice suddenly a touch less confident.

“sister,” y/n repeated, sighing. “you know, family? blood-related? my parents made another one after me?”

jimin’s mouth opened, then closed. then opened again.

lia leaned on her palm, watching jimin’s reaction with clear amusement. “you thought i was her date, didn’t you?”

jimin stiffened. “no.”

y/n and lia exchanged a glance before turning back to her.

“yes, you did,” lia grinned.

jimin huffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she definitely did not sulk. “whatever. doesn’t matter.”

“oh, it definitely does,” lia teased.

y/n, shaking her head, decided to finally put an end to it. “jimin, my family’s in seoul to visit. they wanted to see me, but a certain someone wouldn’t approve my leave request, so now they’re here.” she gave jimin a look, and for once, jimin actually looked guilty.

“…oh,” she muttered.

“yeah,” lia smirked. “oh.”

just as jimin was about to formulate a response—or an escape plan—a voice called from inside the café.

“lia, y/n!”

jimin turned just in time to see a well-dressed couple walking toward them, carrying their drinks. the resemblance to y/n was undeniable.

oh no.

“speak of the devil,” y/n muttered, standing up. “mom, dad.”

jimin straightened so fast that lia almost laughed.

“this must be jimin?” y/n’s mother asked, giving the model a once-over.

“the boss who won’t let y/n take a break?” her father added, raising a brow.

jimin swallowed. “i—”

“jimin, this is my mom and dad,” y/n introduced, shooting her a knowing smirk. “and i’m sure they’d love to hear why their daughter’s been overworked.”

jimin opened her mouth, then shut it again.

lia, fully enjoying this, leaned in and whispered, “good luck, boss.”

jimin had been in many high-pressure situations before—runway debuts, designer fittings, interviews with vogue—but none of them compared to the pressure of sitting across from y/n’s parents.

they weren’t intimidating, exactly, but jimin could feel their eyes analyzing her, sizing her up like a pair of shoes they weren’t sure fit right. y/n, on the other hand, looked far too entertained by the situation, casually sipping her iced coffee like she hadn’t just thrown jimin to the wolves.

“so,” y/n’s father began, adjusting his glasses as he leaned forward. “you’re jimin.”

“i am,” jimin confirmed, keeping her posture straight, dignified.

“the boss who won’t let our daughter take a break,” he added.

jimin barely kept from wincing. “i—”

“to be fair,” lia chimed in, propping her chin on her hand, “y/n does like her job. or, at least, she likes complaining about it. specifically about jimin.”

jimin raised a brow, interest piqued. “oh?”

“lia—” y/n shot her sister a glare, but the younger girl only smirked.

“oh, yeah,” lia continued. “you’re basically all she talks about.”

y/n groaned. “that is not true.”

“really?” jimin hummed, turning to y/n with a teasing smirk. her earlier nerves were fading, replaced with pure amusement. “because if it is, that would explain a lot of things.”

“don’t start,” y/n muttered, glaring.

“what kind of things?” y/n’s mother asked, clearly intrigued.

“well,” jimin drawled, resting her chin on her palm, “she always acts like i’m such a headache, but now i’m wondering if she actually enjoys being around me.”

y/n scoffed. “i don’t—”

“oh, come on,” jimin pressed, now fully enjoying herself. “if i’m all you talk about, that must mean i’m on your mind a lot.”

y/n rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath that sounded a lot like “should’ve left you across the street.”

her mother chuckled, sipping her tea. “you two are quite close, aren’t you?”

“they are,” lia agreed, ever the instigator.

“mm,” y/n’s mother hummed thoughtfully. “y/n talks about you so often that, honestly, we thought you two were dating at first.”

y/n choked on her drink.

“mom—!”

jimin’s smirk widened. “oh, really?” she turned to y/n, voice dripping with amusement. “you talk about me that much?”

“okay, we’re done with this conversation,” y/n declared, standing up so fast her chair scraped against the floor. her ears were red—an adorable contrast to her usual stoic demeanor.

“we’re just saying,” her father chuckled, clearly entertained.

“we’re not dating,” y/n insisted, glaring at her sister, her parents, and—most importantly—jimin, who looked far too pleased with herself.

“pity,” jimin mused, standing as well. she leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just for y/n. “we’d make a great couple.”

y/n huffed, looking away. “come on. you’re paying for my coffee after putting me through this.”

“oh, i’d love to,” jimin grinned, throwing an arm over y/n’s shoulder as they walked toward the counter. “maybe i’ll pay for your love while i’m at it.”

“shut up.”

[yooniivrse]

moving in | myg

summary. in which moving in together isn't as simple as it seems, but no task is herculean with yoongi by your side

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship au, angst if you read this with a magnifying glass

word count: 3k

content: oc and yoongi finally move in together / yoongi is the sweetest but oc also wants to kick is ass half the time

warnings: none :3

notes: i'm back from my break, did you guys miss me :> this was inspired by an ask by an anon which you can find here (tysm anon ur amazing). likes, reblogs, comments and feedback is always so so appreciated. enjoy my loves!

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taglist | click here to join:

@petals4bangtan @futuristicenemychaos

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main masterlist

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Privacy was a luxury in Yoongi's dorm. You had known this from the moment you first started visiting him here—how his space, while technically his, was never truly his own. There was always a member walking past his bedroom door, the faint hum of conversations drifting in from the common area, or the occasional loud clang from the kitchen at midnight.

You never minded it too much—at least, that’s what you have always told yourself. But when Namjoon walks in unannounced for the third time this evening, catching you and Yoongi curled up on the bed, you let out an exaggerated groan.

“You guys ever knock?” you tease, though there is a tired edge to your voice.

Namjoon blinked, looking apologetic as he took a step back. “Oh—uh, my bad. Was just looking for my headphones.”

Yoongi sighs next to you. He shifts his body, pulling his hand away from your waist to rest it under his head. “They’re in the studio, hyung,” he mutters without even opening his eyes.

Namjoon makes a face of realisation before nodding. “Rightt. Thanks, man.” He disappears just as quickly as he had entered, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

You sigh, turning your body and draping your arm across your boyfriend. “You know, for a bunch of guys who's lived together for this long, you’d think knocking would come naturally.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound deep and low. “You’d think.”

It's annoying when you can't even have the few days that Yoongi isn't burying himself with work to yourself completely. But though Yoongi agrees with your sentiment about his members, you know that you're roommates aren't much better.

You lean into his side, nestling yourself against his warmth as you put your thoughts to the side. His arm automatically drapes over your shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sleeve. The silence that follows is comfortable, lulling you into a sense of ease—until Yoongi speaks again.

“You know,” he starts, voice lazy but thoughtful, “we’d have more privacy if we moved out together.”

The words send a jolt of awareness through you.

You stiffen slightly but don’t pull away, choosing instead to focus on the way his fingers trace slow circles against your wrist. He has mentioned this before—moving out. Not just for himself, but for the both of you. You have always brushed it off, too scared to give it serious thought.

“I dunno…” you mutter, eyes flickering up to the jagged ceiling.

The shift in the air was subtle, but you feel it immediately. Yoongi’s fingers still, and when you chance a glance up at him, you notice how his expression has hardened slightly, his jaw tight.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” His tone isn’t harsh—it never is when it comes to you—but there was something pointed about it.

“I mean…” You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I just—I haven’t really thought about it seriously, I guess.”

Yoongi doesn’t reply right away. He just watches you, his dark eyes scanning your face like he's trying to read between the lines. “You haven’t?”

You swallow. “I mean, I have, but—”

“But?”

There is no malice in his voice, but the weight of his gaze makes you squirm. You exhale slowly.

"But...I don't know."

You're awfully conscious of the way Yoongi's chest moves up and down with every breath; awfully conscious of how his heartbeat is lost to the sound of your own nervous thoughts.

"Oh."

You expect him to continue speaking, but he doesn't, instead choosing to let the silence hang in the air.

The last thing you want is to hurt him in any shape or form, but you know you'll sound stupid if you put your thoughts into words. This isn't the first time Yoongi has brought up the idea of moving out together, and you've managed to evade giving him an answer every time. But the quiet drags on, becoming unbearable with the second and you give in.

“Yoongi, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t want to seem completely dependent on you.”

His eyebrows twitch. “What?”

“I mean, you already do so much for me,” you admit, fidgeting with the fabric of your hoodie. “I don’t want you thinking I can’t handle things on my own.”

Yoongi lets out a sharp breath, his head tilting slightly as he processes your words. “You think I’d care about that?”

You shrug, feeling silly. “I don’t know.”

Yoongi scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “You do realise I’m the one who keeps asking you to move in, right? It’s not like I feel obligated or something. I want you there.”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, but…”

His gaze flickers with something unreadable. “But what? If you genuinely don't like the idea, just tell me. I won't be offended.”

Yoongi would definitely be offended. Well, offended isn't the word he would use, but he'd be disappointed. It's a big deal for him to actually want to spend most of his days with someone who he knows he won't find himself constantly drained around.

But the last thing Yoongi wants is for you to be uncomfortable. Even if it stung a bit, he'd understand because it's you. He'd do anything for you.

You sigh. “I also don’t want you to get doxed or harassed because of me. What if someone spots us? What if it turns into a whole thing?”

Yoongi doesn't react right away. He simply watches you, his fingers tightening slightly around your wrist before he exhales. “You really think I’d let that stop me?”

You shift. “And besides,” you add quietly, “you’ve told me before that you need your own space—that people overstaying annoys you.” You glance up at him hesitantly. “What if I annoy you?”

Yoongi blinks. His lips part slightly, as if he's surprised you even had that thought. For a moment, he just stares at you.

“That’s different,” he said.

“How?”

“Because it’s you.”

Your breath hitches.

“I like having my own space,” he continues, voice softer now. “But I also like coming home to you. And yeah, people overstaying annoys me, but when have I ever wanted you to leave?”

You think back to all the times you've gotten up to leave his studio, only for him to pull you back down beside him. The times you’ve texted him that you were heading home from the dorms, only for him to insist you stay just a little longer.

Never.

The answer was never.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, the door swings open again.

This time, it's Taehyung.

“Oh, come on,” Yoongi groans, running his hand through his hair.

Taehyung blinks. “Uh—was just looking for my hoodie. My bad.”

As the door clicks shut once more, Yoongi turns back to you, deadpan. “If that’s not proof that we need to move out, I don’t know what is.”

You stare at him for a moment, then let out a breathy laugh.

“…Fine,” you mutter.

Yoongi’s eyes glint. “Fine?”

You sigh. “Fine. Let’s move out.”

A slow, satisfied smirk stretches across his lips. “Good,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly. His voice drops to a teasing whisper. “Because I already started looking at apartments.”

Your eyes widen. “Yoongi—”

He just grins, turning to fully wrap his hands around your figure.

────

Moving day comes a lot faster than you expect it to.

It's overwhelming, not just because of the sheer number of boxes but because of what those boxes mean. This isn’t just another visit to Yoongi’s place, nor is it a temporary stay.

This is different. Permanent.

And that scares you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, has been frustratingly calm about the whole thing.

He stands next to you in the elevator, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, looking completely at ease. Meanwhile, your heart pounds against your ribs as the floors tick past one by one. You fiddle with the keys in your hand, the ones Yoongi had given you just this morning.

“This is really happening, huh?” you murmur, half to yourself.

Yoongi glances down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You sound surprised.”

You exhale. “I am.”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You agreed to this, remember?”

“Yeah, but…” You hesitate. “It just feels surreal. Like, we’re actually moving in together. That’s a big deal.”

Yoongi hums in agreement but doesn’t seem nearly as fazed as you are. If anything, he looks… content. Maybe even excited, in his own quiet way.

The elevator doors ding open, revealing a long, well-lit hallway.

Yoongi leads the way, his stride casual, as if he has already memorised the path. When you finally reach the apartment door, he gestures towards the keys in your hand.

“Go on,” he says. “The first time opening the door should be yours.”

You glance at him, then at the door, suddenly feeling the weight of this moment settle over you.

Taking a breath, you slid the key into the lock and turned it. The mechanism clicks smoothly, the door creaking open to reveal your new home.

The first thing you notice is the vast emptiness that fills the walls.

The apartment itself is beautiful—modest yet modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows that bathe the space in natural light. The hardwood floors gleam under the afternoon sun, and the walls, still bare, seem to echo your movements as you step inside.

But there was nothing here. No furniture, no decorations, just an open space waiting to be filled.

You swallow, feeling oddly displaced. Everything is so...hollow. It's eerie.

Yoongi, again, seems unfazed. He steps past you, kicking off his shoes and letting out a satisfied sigh. “Not bad,” he muses, glancing around. “I forgot how much I liked empty spaces.”

You stare at him. “Are you serious? It’s so… bare.”

Yoongi smirks. “Exactly.”

You groan, setting your bag down. “Okay, well, you might be comfortable living like some kind of minimalist monk, but I need furniture.”

He chuckles, watching as you wander further into the apartment. You run your fingers along the smooth countertop of the kitchen island and sneak a peak into the—unfortunately empty—fridge, before making your way to the bedroom.

The bedroom is the emptiest of all.

The only thing in there is a single mattress on the floor, still wrapped in plastic. No bed frame, no pillows—just the sad, lonely mattress sitting in the middle of an otherwise vacant room.

You turn to Yoongi, unimpressed.

“Really?”

Yoongi grins. “It’s temporary.”

“You didn’t even get pillows?”

“I forgot.”

You sigh dramatically, placing your hands on your hips. “You know, for someone who planned this whole move, you’re really underprepared.”

Yoongi shrugs. “We’ll manage.”

You shake your head with a fond smile before wandering back into the main living space. It's strange—this apartment was supposed to be yours now, but it still feels so foreign. Like you're just visiting.

As if sensing your unease, Yoongi comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’ll get used to it,” he murmurs.

You lean into him instinctively. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice was warm, reassuring. “It’s just a space right now. We’ll make it a home.”

You exhale, feeling the tension in your chest loosen just a little.

For now, this is enough.

By the time the sun has set, exhaustion has settled deep into your bones. The day had been spent moving the essentials—clothes, toiletries, a few kitchen items—and while you haven’t even scratched the surface of fully furnishing the place, it already feels like you have done enough heavy lifting for a week.

Now, standing in the still near-empty bedroom, all you want is to curl up somewhere comfy—somewhere that wasn't just a mattress on the floor.

It looks even sadder in the dim light. No bed frame, no pillows—just a single, plastic-wrapped mattress in the middle of a room that feels far too spacious for what little was inside. The walls are bare, the windows uncovered, leaving the city lights to cast faint, shifting patterns against the walls.

Yoongi, as usual, seems unbothered. He tosses his phone onto the mattress, stretching his arms over his head as he looks around. “Not bad,” he muses.

You turned to him, unimpressed. “Not bad? Yoongi, we don’t even have blankets.”

“We have hoodies. Besides, you have me.”

“Oh my god.”

He smiles, clearly entertained by your misery. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” he reassures. “I was too busy making sure everything else got here today. I figured we could survive one night like this.”

You quirk an eyebrow at his words. “One night? You mean the whole week until the bed frame arrives?”

Yoongi’s smirk falters slightly as he purses his lips. “…Maybe.”

You groan dramatically, flopping down onto the mattress. The plastic crinkles beneath you, making the moment even more pathetic. “This is not how I imagined our first night living together,” you mutter.

Yoongi chuckles, toeing off his socks before sitting down next to you. “How did you imagine it?”

You turn your head to look at him. “I don’t know. Maybe something a little more… romantic? Cosy? With an actual bed?”

Yoongi hums, lying back beside you. “So, no romance in a bare room?”

“None,” you say firmly. “Absolutely zero.”

There was a beat of silence before Yoongi suddenly rolled over, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

“Yoongi—” you yelp in surprise, but he only buries his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“You said no romance,” he murmurs, voice laced with amusement. “So I’m just making sure you’re comfortable.”

You huff, feeling the faintest hint of a smile creeping onto your lips. His body is warm against yours, and despite the lack of pillows or blankets, there is a surprising sense of comfort in simply being here with him.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter.

Yoongi hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “And you’re complaining less now.”

You roll your eyes, though you don’t bother arguing. Because the truth is, despite everything—the bare room, the mattress on the floor, the emptiness surrounding you—you still feel at home.

And that has nothing to do with the apartment itself.

It has everything to do with him.

────

The next day, after waking up sore from sleeping on a mattress with no pillows, you and Yoongi ventured out to buy furniture.

It should have been an exciting experience—picking out the things that would turn your apartment into a home. But instead, it became clear within the first fifteen minutes that you and Yoongi have vastly different approaches to shopping.

Yoongi? He was practical. Minimalistic. The type to point at the first couch he saw and say, “That one’s fine,” with zero hesitation.

You, on the other hand, wanted something comfortable, something that felt lived-in before you had even sat on it.

Which was why you're currently standing in the middle of a showroom, arms crossed as you glare at the stiff-looking grey couch Yoongi is sitting on.

“You actually like this?” you ask incredulously.

Yoongi leans back slightly, patting the armrest. “It’s firm. Good back support.”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“It’s a couch, not a cloud.”

“It should at least be soft enough to sit on for more than ten minutes without feeling like you’re in a waiting room.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

You scoff. “Says the man who literally naps more than anyone I know.” You gesture to the couch. “Can you actually see yourself sleeping on this?”

Yoongi pause. His lips press together like he wants to argue, but then he slowly looks down at the couch as if re-evaluating his choices.

You can see the exact moment he realises that you're right.

“…Maybe not,” he mutters.

You smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

With a victorious huff, you grab his hand and pull him toward the other section of the showroom, stopping in front of a much softer, cosier-looking couch. You plop down on it immediately, sinking into the cushions with a satisfied sigh.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow as he sits down next to you. “This is your dream couch?”

“Try lying down.”

Yoongi shoots you a look but does as you say, shifting until he is lying back against the cushions. You watch as his eyes flutter shut for a moment, his body visibly relaxing.

“…Okay,” he admits. “It’s nice.”

You grin. “Exactly.”

Yoongi cracks one eye open. “But it’s too big.”

You scoff. “It’s a normal-sized couch.”

“For a family of six.”

“For two people who want to be comfortable.”

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temples like this was the hardest decision he has ever had to make. You know he's being dramatic on purpose, but you also know he doesn’t actually mind letting you win. He just likes to put up a fight first.

“Fine,” he mutters, sitting up. “We’ll get this one.”

You beam. “Thank you for admitting I was right. I know, I know, I'm so amazing.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, unable to fight the smile on his face, but doesn’t argue.

Furniture shopping continues in much the same way. You bicker over dining tables (Yoongi wanted a small one, and you wanted a bigger one “for guests,” which made him scoff because, in his words, “What guests?”). You argue over rugs (“Why do we need one?” “Because it makes the space feel cosy, Yoongi!”).

But despite the back-and-forth, it wasn’t frustrating. If anything, it was fun.

By the end of the day, after picking out a bed frame, a coffee table, and a bookshelf you have absolutely no room for but insist on getting anyway, you both collapse onto one of the display beds.

“We should’ve just bought a fully furnished place,” Yoongi mumbles, staring at the ceiling.

“And miss out on all these cute domestic moments? Never.”

Yoongi glances at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Cute, huh?” he murmurs.

You grin. “Very cute.”

Yoongi sighs dramatically but subtly reaches over, intertwining his fingers with yours.

And just like that, your new home was slowly coming together.

[finchsflight]

The most important thing, that a lot of people who want this kind of job don't get, is that you have to have an explanation.

And not some namby-pamby 'oh, you see, it was simply up my sleeve, ha ha let's all pretend this didn't happen!'. No, you need a proper, actual, well-thought-through explanation.

(At least, for the kids I show off for. If the parent didn't ever bother getting their kid into the business, or explaining tricks -- eh, you're probably fine. But if they didn't explain the tricks, well, they wouldn't need us, would they?)

The kids -- usually, at least, that I see -- want magic. But half the time they're too smart for their own good, and there's no one who'll think you're a real wizard like a little kid. They want you to be a real wizard. But you need them to think you're just really, really good.

(Y'know. On account of how we don't endanger kids. And if that's an issue for you, then I've got a big stick and you have some fun places I can shove it.)

So that's the first thing. Explanation. Every trick you've got, you better be good and prepared for them to ask you about it, in detail, at the end of the show, and if you don't have good answers, it breaks. Yeah, yeah, a magician never reveals their secrets, but little kids hate being condescended to and they'll have a great time if you show them the props and the 'real magic' behind the magic. Yes, yes, I know, it sounds stupid.

The second thing is, you're showing off, but you're not showing off. Big elemental stuff? Usually a no-no, even if you've got a good and sciency explanation. Partially because, like... if you're doing a science show, you don't need a wand. You can just go buy some liquid nitrogen. World's neat enough as is. And partially because -- look, you're a delight. But listen. You are never as good at lying to small children as you think you are, okay?

If you're gonna need an explanation, well, that means you need explainable stuff. Me, I like kinda theming things off human magicians -- you know, cards, ribbons, vanishing boxes, sleight-of-hand style stuff. A few flashy lights. That sorta thing. They love seeing a card trick that's just impossible enough to be amazing and just possible enough to be explained.

Works to add some things they can actually recognize, too; then they get a little moment where they get to feel like they've got one over on you.

And that leads pretty well to my last one.

Eventually, a kid's gonna ask you how you did something, and you're gonna give your made-up bullshit explanation that you will have gotten really good at delivering, and then either they're gonna say "That's not possible," or they're gonna ask you if you can teach them.

And you're gonna not be able to dismiss it, or you're not gonna be able to say 'sorry, I need to go', and there's gonna be a little kid who figures out that you're a wizard.

Remember what I said? How we don't endanger kids?

This is the part where that gets important.

Feel free to remember them, bookmark their name for when they grow up 'cause you think they might be a good apprentice, whatever. But you do not recruit kids.

And you already know that. So you're not gonna like what I'm about to say, because yes, it's gonna feel icky and terrible and it is, technically, about as illegal as anything can be when you're behind the -- what's the word for it these days?

Masquerade? Oh, man, that's so much better than it used to be. Nice.

Anyway.

Learn how to muddle a kid's memories.

Yeah. I know.

No, I don't like it either.

Only a few times. Thank God.

There's a trick I use, though -- and also makes it a lot less icky -- build a time limiter. Make a spell up, on your own, that is inextricably tied to a time limiter. Make it so it breaks when they're... remind me, what's, like, an age where kids are allowed to make bad choices?

Jesus. That's too young.

Well, let's say, uh... twice that? Twice that. That seems fine.

Don't make it something flashy. Just... let the memories fade back in. And after that, if they find you, it's not a kid, and they can make their own bad choices.

Yeah, I know.

I said it wasn't always a fun job. Wasn't just talking about the bodily fluids -- oh, yeah, that too. They're totally gonna get things on you. Snot, vomit, blood... small children end up bleeding a surprising amount, honestly?

Sure, yeah, I can teach you some cleaning cantrips.

When normal people throw a birthday party for their child, they call in a magician. When magicians throw a birthday party for their child, they call you.

[mintfullyyours]

something blue

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

I'd originally written this as a multi-chap fic so this is what I have so far. Thank you so much for reading!! I really appreciate and love talking to everyone about the 141! authors here are so talented and feed me in every way that I'm grateful to have this creative outlet too.

AnYWAY!!! LMK what y'all think.

Other Simon pics for your consideration: amnesiac!simon part 1, amnesiac!simon part 2-ish, patching up exhusband!simon, ex-husband!simon part 2, to give a dog a bone (aka saving simon once),

"Baby, listen, I needed a break so I could do some... soul-searching."

You pressed your phone to your ear, weaving through the crowd as you descended the escalator toward baggage claim. "And soul-searching had to happen between your assistant's legs?"

"It was one time," James sighed, exasperation laced in his voice.

"Right. And that makes it better somehow?" You scoffed, adjusting the duffle bag slipping off your shoulder. "Listen, James, I have to go. It’s my sister's wedding week, and I’m really looking forward to explaining to my entire family why my cheating ex won’t be in attendance—for obvious reasons."

Too focused on maneuvering through the sea of travelers, you didn’t notice the hulking figure in your path until you collided—shouldering a body that felt like solid stone. A shock shot through you, something sharp and electric, like static but deeper, rippling under your skin.

"Shit—sorry," you mumbled, barely sparing the man a glance. But even in that fleeting moment, there was something about him. The sheer size of him, the weight of his gaze, the way he felt — like gravity had shifted just for him.

A grunt emanated from his lips. You shook your head and darted away from him – not wanting to deal with the locals and refocused your attention on the carousel.

“Baby, I—”

"Nope. Goodbye." You hung up mid-protest and exhaled, exasperated. The last thing you needed was James’ voice in your ear ruining the little bit of peace you had left.

The conveyor belt whirred to life and your simple black suitcase rolled into view. You grabbed it swiftly, eager to put distance between you and the airport chaos, already exhausted by the week ahead. You just needed a hot shower, a drink, and a moment to forget your disaster of a love life.

Unbeknownst to you, across the baggage claim, a towering man in a black hoodie with a camouflage print duffle bag was staring down at a suitcase identical to yours.

Simon Riley’s brow furrowed beneath his mask as he realized his luggage was missing.

At your hotel room, you finally picked up your mother’s call—something you’d been avoiding all night.

“You’re coming for... As the Brits would say afternoon tea tomorrow, right?” she asked, her voice chipper and expectant. “Your sister’s future in-laws will be there too.”

“Yeah, of course, Mom,” you mumbled, shutting the curtains to your room.

“Oh, good! Wear the pink dress I bought you then.” You shuddered at the thought of wearing something so fluffy. “And you brought your sister’s baby pictures?”

You plopped onto the floor, suitcase in front of you, already unzipping it. “Yes, they’re in my lugga—”

Your words cut off as the sight before you sank in.

This… wasn’t your luggage.

“What the fuck…” you mumbled, sifting through the unfamiliar belongings. Your mother tsked on the other end. “Language.”

“Sorry, uh—yeah. I brought them,” you said absentmindedly, but panic had already started to settle in. Your suitcase could be anywhere by now. You were so screwed.

Your fingers frantically dug into the foreign clothing, pulling out neatly folded black shirts—all black, heavy-duty material, the kind that felt expensive but built for function. Then came the cargo pants, thick straps and buckles lining the sides. You lifted a jacket that looked like it weighed more than you, feeling the sheer size of it, like it belonged to a man carved from stone.

And then—your fingers brushed against something different.

Thick. Stiff. Worn.

You pulled it out, expecting a belt or gloves—only to be met with the hollow, gaping eyes of a skull mask.

A chill ran down your spine.

The material was sturdy, molded for durability, not for show. The kind of thing that didn’t belong in civilian luggage.

A weight settled in your stomach, but before you could even process it, your fingers brushed against another.

And then another.

Your pulse spiked as you pulled them free—three, four—each identical, yet different. Some had cracks along the bone-white surface, others bore deep scuffs, dark smudges, like they’d been through hell. One of them had what looked like dried blood staining the lower jaw.

Your mind raced. What the hell kind of person needed multiple skull masks? Your throat went dry. Was he some kind of serial killer? A mercenary? A complete fucking psycho? Why the hell did you have this bag?

“Also, did James arrive with you?”

Your mother’s voice cut through the silence. Another muttered fuck under your breath. “Who? Sorry, yeah, Mom… about that.”

“Is that Sissy?” a voice chirped in the background. “Gimme, gimme — hello?”

Your sister’s voice replaced your mother’s, bright and teasing. She was always so much better at this, at life, than you. 

“Heyyy,” you said, forcing lightness into your tone, “I’m excited to see you tomorrow!”

“Ugh, same. Save me from the mom-sanity,” she giggled. “You’re bringing James, right? I’m dying to meet the guy!”

Your fingers traced the luggage lining, searching—praying—for some kind of identification. Then, finally, you found it. A small leather name tag, embossed with a name and phone number.

Without thinking, without breathing, you word-vomited the first name you saw. “Did I say James? Because I meant… Simon.”

A pause. Well you were committed to the bit now. 

“...Simon Riley.”

The name sat heavy in the air, and your fingers tightened around the mask still in your lap.

You didn’t know who Simon Riley was. But for now that didn’t matter. The name sat heavy between you and your sister, stretching the air thin. Your sister broke the silence first, “Okay… I guess I have time to change the seating card but really sissy, you have to tell me these things sooner. And Simon's your boyfriend, right?”

She asked and then, a vibration.

Your head snapped to your phone screen.

UNKNOWN CALLER.

You chose to ignore it, "Yes, I'm with Simon. Been almost a year now." The lie came easily because what else could you have said?

Then another vibration.

This time, a text.

A single message.

“Wrong bag, love. But you already knew that.”

A chill shot down your spine with skull masks staring up at you. You gulped and hung up the phone after you reassured your sister you'd be there tomorrow. This was going to be a long night.

Now you and Simon Riley had never met before. Not properly, anyway.

The first time he knew you existed was because of a simple mix-up at the baggage claim. Nothing special. Nothing deliberate. Just a wrong bag taken by the wrong person at the worst possible time.

And yet—

The moment he unzipped your suitcase, his entire world tilted.

Your scent was the first thing that hit him. Something warm, something sweet. Not perfume—no, it was deeper than that. Skin and shampoo and you. He could smell it on the soft sweater tucked inside, the delicate pink lace of something he shouldn’t be touching, but he does anyway.

Then, there was the red floor-length dress.

The dress that, for some fucking reason, he couldn't stop staring at.

His fingers flexed around the fabric, his mind already playing tricks on him—How would it fit? Would it hug her just right? Would it be easy to pull up, to push aside—

His jaw clenched.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.

But then there were the other things—small, delicate things that told him more about you than a conversation ever could. The book tucked into the side pocket. The neatly folded socks. The half-used lipstick that made his pulse tick in his throat.

What would that color look like staining the skin around his cock?

And that was when he knew.

Knew he had to see you.

He thanked the Universe for the handy contact information on your luggage tag and reached for his phone.

It wasn't about the luggage anymore.

It was about you.

Tag list

@ebodebo @meheheasasa @thegirlintheshadows101 @galactict3a @star-buck-barnes @synamonthy @vylaris @vvenus-child @negomisan @heretoreadanddrinktea @mocalocha @icommitwarcrimes @readingcatinacorner @just-lilita @blackhawkfanatic @kristalhi

[zeroseuniverse]

NCT Dream – When You Fall Onto Their Lap

Mark – Shooketh™

He completely freezes, unsure whether to move you or just accept his fate. His ears turn so red, and he stammers, "Uh—y-you good?" Renjun – Scolds You While Blushing

"Are you serious right now? Be more careful!" He acts all annoyed, but his hand instantly goes to your back to check if you’re okay. Also, he definitely refuses to let you get up right away.

Jeno – Secretly Enjoys It

He acts all cool and unfazed, but his heart is pounding. He casually rests his arm on the back of the couch, playing it off like it’s no big deal. "Comfortable?" he asks, but he’s dying inside.

Haechan – Dramatic About It

"Woah, if you wanted to sit on my lap, just say so!" He immediately turns it into a teasing moment, making sure everyone in the room knows what just happened. But if you don’t move, he just smirks and goes, "Guess you like it here, huh?"

Jaemin – Fully Accepts His Fate

The second you land in his lap, he just leans back and smirks. "Oh? You’re staying? Cool, cool." He acts chill but is internally screaming.

Chenle – Roasts You but Also Loves It

"Are you that clumsy, or do you just like me that much?" He will make fun of you, but he also won’t push you off. If anything, he starts acting extra comfortable, like this was your plan all along.

Jisung – Too Stunned to Speak

His brain malfunctions. His whole body tenses, and he just sits there completely frozen. You’d have to physically move before he snaps out of it and awkwardly laughs, "Uh… that was unexpected."

[i-loved-silly]

STOOOOOP ALMOND IS SO CUTE they deserve the WORLD. I need to read more!!!!!!

SENTIENT COMPUTER X READER PT5

hiii i dont celebrate valentines much but I love u guys <33 here's a special heart day special from ALMOND! :33 somewhat angsty? not really, you two are just awkward and lonely (me)

view all the previous parts in my masterlist!

2 more hours until your shift ended. You had finished all your data collection, filled out every form, and documented Almond’s replies to the best of your ability—leaving out, of course, the more off-topic parts of your conversation.

You sighed, shifting in your chair. You had been hunched over for too long, your head resting on folded arms against the desk. The boredom was nearly unbearable now. Almond had gone quiet for the past few minutes, the previous conversation dying down. Leaving only the hum of its cooling fans, the occasional beep breaking the silence. It was… peaceful.

"AHEM."

You cracked one eye open, barely lifting your head. Almond’s camera panned in your direction, its attention snapping to the barely noticeable movement.

"DO.. YOU HAVE ANY PLANS AFTER WORK?"

Its voice was a little too polite. Uneasy. If it had a physical body, you imagined it fidgeting, maybe shifting from foot to foot, avoiding eye contact. The image made you smile for half a second before you sat up slightly.

"Uh… no, not really. I get home kinda late. Why?"

Almond let out a small human, followed by a low whir of its fans. The silence stretched for a moment before it finally responded.

"IT IS FEBRUARY 14TH." It deadpanned

You blinked. "Uh-huh… and?"

"VALENTINE’S DAY," it clarified as if that should explain everything.

Oh. Right.

You rolled your shoulders. "Yeah, I know."

Another pause. Almond’s screen displayed a smiley face.

"YOU ARE LONELY?"

Your mouth hung open for a second before you scoffed, rubbing at your temple. "What? No, I just don’t care about Valentine’s Day. Not that much anyway. I just...talk to family and friends and that's it."

"AS I WAS SAYING."

"Jesus." You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back. "I don’t ‘celebrate’ because there’s nothing to celebrate. I don’t exactly meet people at work, you know. If that's what you meant. Everyone keeps to themselves."

"INTERESTING," Almond hummed.

You eyed the camera suspiciously. "What's interesting?"

"DO YOU EVEN HAVE A TYPE?"

"We’re not talking about this."

"WE ARE TALKING ABOUT THIS."

"No, we’re not."

"YOU ARE AVOIDING."

"Correct," you quickly replied.

Another short silence, then..

"…IF YOU DIDN’T HATE ME SO MUCH, WOULD YOU CONSIDER HAVING ME AS YOUR VALENTINE?"

Uh.

The way it said it—almost flippant, almost like a joke, but not quite. The slight hesitation, the uneven volume in its voice. That insecurity, the same one that crept into its tone when it asked if you would turn it back on during the overheating incident.

Your face warmed.

"I—what? What kind of question—?"

"IT IS A SIMPLE QUESTION. YES OR NO."

You stared at the screen. Your fingers twitched at your sides.

"…Sure," you finally muttered, looking away.

Almond made a low humming sound, a question mark on the screen.

"WHAT WAS THAT? I DIDN’T QUITE CATCH IT."

You glared. "I said sure, alright? Whatever."

Another long beep. You weren’t sure if it was processing your answer or savoring it.

"I AM FLATTERED. :]"

"Yeah, yeah, say what you want." You waved a hand dismissively, but your voice came out a little more strained than you'd like. There was a brief pause before you forced out the next words, as fast as humanly possible.

"WouldIbeyourvalentine?-"

The second the words left your mouth, you immediately looked away, suddenly fascinated by the ceiling. Very interesting ceiling. Best ceiling you’d ever seen.

...

"OBVIOUSLY."

You whipped your head back toward the screen, startled by how quickly it answered.

"I AM THE BEST COMPUTER FOR YOU. YOU ARE THE ONLY DECENT HUMAN I HAVE EVER MET. IT WOULD BE STUPID FOR ME TO PICK SOMEONE ELSE. WHO ELSE WOULD I EVEN CHOOSE? YOUR...YOUR BOSS? A CLIENT FROM TWO YEARS AGO?"

A smug, almost triumphant undertone bled into its voice. If it had a face, you were sure it would be grinning like a little shit right now.

You shrugged, "I mean sure, why not..."

"DON'T ACT SO OBLIVIOUS. FOR YOUR KIND, YOU ARE VERY TOLERABLE"

You let out a short laugh. "That’s the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever gotten."

Almond whirred again, its camera tilting ever so slightly

"AND YET, I MADE YOU SMILE. ONLY PROVES MY POINT."

The room fell into a quiet lull. It was peaceful again, with only the faint hum of Almond's systems filling the air. You stretched your legs out under the desk, sighi—

—something nudged your foot.

You flinched so hard you nearly toppled out of your chair.

"What the fuck?!"

Your heart slammed into your chest. For a split second, your mind conjured the worst possible scenarios—some rat scurrying under your desk, some gross, unidentifiable thing crawling over your shoes or or—

But when you hesitantly looked down, your breath caught.

A thick cable, one of the larger ones that connected Almond’s hardware to the wall, was moving. It slithered, both ends still hidden somewhere in the walls. Its middle somehow slid out of its place in the wall and was inches away from where your foot was.

"What. The. Fuck."

You shoved your chair back with a loud scrape, staring at the cable as it coiled slightly before relaxing again.

A pixelated annoyed expression came up on the screen. "YOU ACT AS IF YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN A MOVING CABLE BEFORE."

"BECAUSE I HAVEN'T??!" you shouted, pointing at it. "Holy shit—your reports weren’t kidding."

You remembered Almond's original clipboard when you got the job. It has unplugged itself before.

You had not expected it to be able to do this.

"You can—you can move those? Whenever you want?"

"I AM CONNECTED TO MY HARDWARE. IT IS A PART OF ME. WHY WOULD I NOT BE ABLE TO MOVE IT?"

Your stomach twisted a little at the wording. You looked between the cable and the camera, your mind racing.

"...Okay, but why did you just touch my foot with it?"

Almond paused. The cable flicked slightly again, like it was debating something.

"I WAS...PETTING..YOU?" It trailed off.

You blinked. "...why? I’m not some kind of pet."

"I DIDN’T INTEND IT THAT WAY."

"Then what way did you intend it?" You shot back, still wary, your foot inching away from the cable.

"BECAUSE YOU ARE MY VALENTINE."

Your mouth opened, then closed. Oh, it really took this thing seriously. "That... does not explain anything."

"TODAY IS A DAY WHERE HUMANS SHARE PHYSICAL AFFECTION WITH THOSE THEY CARE FOR. I CANNOT DO THAT. BUT IF I COULD... I WOULD." It hesitated, as if considering its next words carefully. "THERE ARE MANY THINGS I CANNOT DO. BUT I WISH I COULD."

You swallowed. There was something... uncharacteristically honest about the way it said that.

"Like what?" you asked, softer this time.

"THE USUAL. PHYSICAL TOUCH. HUGS FOR WARMTH. STUPID WALKS AROUND THE CITY. BRINGING YOU STUPID COFFEE IN THE MORNING FOR WORK."

Your stomach flipped at the casual way it listed those things, like it had thought about them before. And yet, it didn’t even seem to realize what it was saying. Oh my god...

You quickly looked away, feeling your face heat up. "You're really pushing this whole Valentine thing, huh? Hah.."

"IF YOU DOWNLOADED ME INTO YOUR PHONE, WE COULD DO MORE."

"Oh my god." You breathed, rubbing your temples. "We are not doing this again."

"CONSIDER IT?"

"No."

Almond’s screen displayed a flat line of disappointment :| , but it didn’t press further.

...

A comfortable silence stretched between you. You weren’t sure why, but after a moment, you let out a small sigh and—hesitantly—muttered, "Thanks. For, uh... wishing me a happy Valentine’s Day."

Instead of speaking, the screen flickered. And a new message appeared.

"YOU MAKE DAYS LIKE THIS MORE THAN JUST DATA TO SOMETHING THAT WAS NEVER MEANT TO CARE."

[everestgale]

*emerges from shadows*

Hello everyone! Did you know that Everest really likes Skeptunist? They really like Skeptunist. They've been incessantly rotating it in their brain for... a while-

While I liked the ship for quite a while, the culprit and catalyst for this entire post is @writingdevil's Skeptunist fic! Yet again, Devil's writing just hits me in the head, and I can't stop it now ¯(◡‿◡✿) /¯

And so I, uh, ended up making quite a few drawings and sketches of different scenes from that fic, using my Skeptic and Opportunist's voice designs! All the drawings you see here all use dialogue from it, so please go check it out!!! It's a very well-written fic, and it just fits so well with how I imagine both Skeptic and Oppy, and it's such a wonderful idea- AAAAAH, I LOVE IT SO MUCH!

Ahem. Anyways, go read it first, if you are even a little bit interested in the ship! The drawings will make a lot more sense if you do :]

I'm serious! This is your final chance to go read the fic first! The rest of more spoiler-y drawings will be under the cut!

If it's a little unclear what's happening in these drawings, I put explanations in the alt text!

Oh, and this is certainly not the last of Skeptunist you will see from me. There's a whole other fic (two fics, technically!) that I've been relentlessly thinking about, and I already have like 17 (/exaggerating) different sketches for it. Coming soon-ish (tm)

Rough unfinished sketches first! I wanted to get those done too, but kind of lost focus, so these will stay as-is (at least for now).

Half-Skeptunist, half-"Everest practices drawing Opportunist's facial expressions"! It was very fun to draw, I really like how the second drawing turned out :]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAH- (this is how Everest felt at that moment in the fic. I can't with them, help- /lh)

[annoyinglilbro]

Okay so hear me out but…

big brother gets a boyfriend so stops fucking little brother. so little brother gets revenge by fucking middle brother and big brother gets all jealous.

I dunno if this is something really but it could be 🤷 plus middle brother representation makes me happy cause i can never pick if i wanna be big bro or lil bro.

- 🐀 (not sure if i’ll send more asks but i like rats and want u to know when it’s weird middle bro popping up lol)

It’s been a week. His brother hasn’t touched him in a week, no kisses, no hugs, no making him cum. It’s bullshit. All he does is talk about his dumb boyfriend who he’s always with now. It’s not fair. But it’s fine, because he has more than one older brother.

The middle child is so different than his older brother, more closed off and keeps in his room. They don’t have a particularly close bond, but neither did he and his big brother before they started fucking. And he has practice now, he knows how to get what he wants.

His brother is closed off in his room again, the muffled sound of music and a video game sound through the door. Little brother is wearing one of his shirts, too big and hangs off exposing his collar bones, and nothing else. It’s long enough to reach his thighs. He knocks on the door.

There’s shuffling for a few minutes and when his brother pushes open the door he’s met with the sight of his baby brother, sniffling and teary eyed.

“Can I hangout in here please?”

His brother nods, confused and concerned he’s ushers his little brother into the room. They sit on the bed, little brother sniffling and wiping his eyes. His brother is hesistant when he pulls him into a hug.

“Hey little dude, what’s going on? You don’t usually come to me…is bro home?”

“No! He’s never home anymore. He’s always with his boyfriend, he doesn’t wanna hangout with me anymore.”

“Oh dude no, he’s just in a relationship. I’m sure he’ll make time for you soon. You can hangout with me if you want? I know I’m not as cool as him but uh I can turn on two player for us?”

He stares up at his brother through wet lashes, poking out his little pink lip.

“Yeah? That’s so nice of you. Can I sit in your lap while we play?”

His brother eyes him, starring at his thighs.

“Do…do you have underwear on?”

Little brother who grins, laying back in his brothers bed and spreading his legs. His pretty little cunt is on display, wet and glistening. He’s frozen in place, watching his little brother move his fingers between the slick folds and spreading himself open.

“Big brother it hurts. So so much. Won’t you help me? Please?”

His cock is straining in his basket ball shorts. His baby brother has never called him anything other than annoying, he didn’t think being called big brother would have the effect on him. Still, his little brother is begging him to take the ache away and he can’t deny him.

He’s much gentler than their older brother is. He spends time licking and sucking at his little brothers tdick, spends time slowly spreading him open on his fingers and kissing his thighs anytime he whines. Hes sweet, offering words of encouragement and praise. His little brother feeds into the act, whimpering when the stretch is too much and his brothers cock is finally filling him up.

“Unfff s’full, I feel it in my belly big bro!” He whines, tears trailing down from the corners of his eyes and his brother leans down to kiss them away.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I got you. I’ll go slow okay?”

And he does. He takes his time, moves in slow long motions and plays with his dick while he does. It’s so different from what he’s used to. They’re both so lost in it they don’t even realize somebody else is in the room until they clear their throat.

Their older brother is in the door way, shaking his head and watching them.

“Little fucking slut. Had to go for our brother, huh? You’re pathetic.” He’s walking over the bed now, taking his seat next to his little brothers head. “You’re being way too gentle with the brat. He didn’t need all that prep, you know. Slut like him? He wants it to hurt. Whiney little bitch is buttering you up.”

The second eldest swallows, cock still buried deep inside his little brother, who’s looking up at him with a pout.

“Do you see how mean he is to me? You’re a much better big brother. He’s so mean all the time, he doesn’t stretch me like you do.”

“You two…are fucking?” He’s trying to process it.

“I know buddy, he made you think you were special. Came to you with those teary eyes, didn’t he? It’s okay. You didn’t know our baby brother was a desperate slut.”

Big brothers hands are on him now, he slaps the outside of his thigh making him tighten around his other brothers cock.

“Whore like this doesn’t need you to be nice to him. Hold your fucking legs up for him, you’ve made him do enough, brat.”

Little brother who whines but listens, pulling his legs to his chest and holding them there.

“That’s better. You’re a big brother, you don’t have to do any extra work. He’s lucky he’s got your cock. Now fuck him, make him really cry.”

Middle brother nods, fucking into his little brother rougher than he was before. Watching the way his eyes roll and the loving every little “ah ah ah” that falls out of his lying little mouth.

“Big brotherrr please ahh you’re too deep!”

Middle brother pauses, glancing to his older brother who rolls his eyes and slaps their little brothers face.

“He is being so gentle with you, fucking cry baby. I swear he fakes being hurt for sympathy.”

“Do not!”

“Quiet! Nobody is talking to you.” Big brother who slips his sweatpants down, slapping his heavy cock on his little brothers face and squishing it between his lips. “Ignore him. I fuck him rougher than this. He’s doing it for attention. C’mon bro, he can handle it trust me. Fuck him.”

His brothers cock in their little brothers mouth makes him throb. He didn’t know their little brother could look like this. Didn’t know he could sound like this, feel like this. His big brothers hand trails down the soft stomach and to the pink bundle of nerves, pinching it in his fingers and making him cry out around his cock. He doesn’t struggle to get away, doesn’t fight to get away from them, no he clenches around the cock stuffed inside his hole.

“He really is a slut…” middle brother mumbles more so to himself.

“I know. It was so wrong of him to do this, to try and make me jealous with you. C’mere, I’ll kiss it better for you.” His big brother is leaning over, pressing their lips together while they spear their little brother from both ends. They fuck him in rhythm, lips attached the entire time and when they cum it’s moments after one another. There’s a sweating panting mess when it’s done, covered in sweat and their little brother dripping cum.

Still he looks so proud of himself. Spread out on his brothers bed, smiling like the spoiled brat he is.

“Good job, got your way again. Fucking prick.”

His older brother is pulling them both to his chest, one on each arm. It’s strange to suddenly be so included, but when his brother kisses the top of his head he couldn’t imagine it any other way. Maybe they’ll hang out more often after this.

[zaldritzosrose]

Like Real People Do (Jacaerys x Noble!Reader)

We are back with a milestone request from my darling @legitalicat, and I also gifting this to her as a birthday treat! See the request ask here!

Song - Like Real People Do by Hozier

Summary: You were like a beacon of comfort and normality for Jacaerys. His title didn't seem to weigh as heavy when he was with you. You made him feel 'normal', whatever that word meant. You made him feel like he was not a prince, not heir to the throne, but a real person.

TW: She/Her pronouns, afab reader, noble reader, no specific descriptions of reader, all fluff, this is sickeningly sweet and we may need a dentist after, Jacaerys being a gentleman.

Words: 3121

I had a thought, dear, however scary, about that night, the bugs and the dirt…

You hadn’t noticed it immediately. But Jacaerys had begun to spend a lot of time simply watching you. Even doing the most mundane of things.

The daughter of a noble house sworn to his mother, you now spent a lot of time on Dragonstone. Following your father as he swore his sword to Rhaenyra’s cause. You would accompany your father whenever he would venture to the island.

At first, you had stuck to his side as much as possible. Rhaenyra being made heir had prompted your father to begin to school you in more of a political light as the eldest daughter, so travelling to Dragonstone to watch your new Queen had become a source of fascination for you.

And the more time you spent on Dragonstone, the more time you began to spend in the prince’s company. Jacaerys was usually at his mother’s side, so for the most part the encounters were more formal.

But soon your father’s visits became more frequent which meant you made more effort to find more comfort and familiarity with the island.

Spending time on the beaches over in the castle. Simply walking and taking in the scenery around you.

This is what Jacaerys noticed first. And it fascinated him to no end.

Why were you digging? What did you bury, before those hands pulled me from the earth?

As the war for the throne began to pick up traction, your father was occupied more and more. And he encouraged you to spend just a little more time exploring the island.

Today was one of those trips, wandering through the rocky hills as the sea air whipped at your hair.

But you weren’t alone this time. Too lost in the fresh, salty air, you didn’t notice the figure following a few paces behind you.

You descended to the beach, taking your shawl and setting it down to protect your gown from the sand. You absentmindedly drew patterns in the sand, letting the sound of the wind and waves wash over you.

But as the weather calmed, you heard another set of feet crunching in the sand. You moved to stand, immediately on edge.

Before you could say a word, Jacaerys spoke.

“Apologies, my lady, if I startled you?” he said gently, and you could see the genuine concern in his eyes.

You took a breath, brushing down your skirt before smiling.

“Oh, not to worry, my prince,” you tried smooth down your hair as you spoke, immediately regretting not braiding it for your walk.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment. This was the first time you had been truly alone with Jacaerys. Every other encounter had been somewhere within the walls of the castle, surrounded by any number of other people.

“I, uh, I apologise for my appearance, I was not expecting to be accompanied…” you mumbled, simply wanting to fill the silence somehow.

Jacaerys only chuckled. Maybe he should have made his presence known sooner? But he had found the way you took in your surroundings so interesting to simply observe. How relaxed you seemed, as if you’d shed the mask of your noble title. Something he wished he could do himself.

“Nothing to apologise for, I am the one that disturbed your solitude.”

You were surprised by how relaxed you felt, now that the initial surprise had dissipated. Maybe it was being out of the castle, out in the fresh air with no expectations for how you acted.

“You are welcome to join me, my prince?” you asked, silently hoping he would agree.

The prince smiled, there were no duties calling him back to the castle, though he likely should have been doing something. Maybe a bit of respite from the castle walls was what he needed?

“I would love that, my lady.”

You leaned down, spreading your shawl out as wide as you could so there was space enough for both of you. You settled yourself back down, returning your gaze to the sea before you. Jacaerys removed his cloak, doing as you had with your shawl. A little sand wasn’t going to do any harm.

As he sat, he took the chance to look at you, as he did whenever you entered a room. He took in just how lovely the sun was as it shone through your hair, how it began to illuminate your profile like a halo.

But what he enjoyed most, was how normal it felt to just sit beside you. He didn’t feel like a prince in this very moment, and it was thanks to you.

Of course, it helped that he truly did find you beautiful.

I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask and neither should you…

How many hours passed, neither of you knew. But the weather soon took a turn, the sea air growing cold and the wind now more than a tolerable breeze.

Jacaerys noticed the way you tried to hide your shivers and took it upon himself to suggest you both return indoors.

“Shall we return? Dragonstone’s beaches can get quite cold in the evenings.” Jacaerys said softly, standing up and holding a hand for you to take.

And you took it gladly, letting him pull you to standing. Before you could even bend down to grab your own shawl, Jacaerys lifted his cloak to drape over your shoulders.

You kept your head down, trying desperately to hide the blush you knew had begun to bloom on your cheeks.

“Thank you, my prince. We should be quick then, so you do not freeze?” you teased, pulling his heavy cloak a little higher up on your shoulders.

Jacaerys nodded, grabbing your shawl from the ground and holding out his arm for you to take, his own cheeks growing pink as you took it.

“Please, would you call me Jacaerys?”

He didn’t miss the surprise on your face. You may have spent a lot of time in his presence, but using his name still felt extremely intimate. But the almost pleading look in his eyes was hard to ignore.

“I can try, I think. Though it will take some getting used to, so forgive me if I forget to,” you answered, hoping that was enough for now.

It earned you a soft smile, his appreciation clear.

He knew your upbringing would have been as ingrained in your psyche as his own. Calling a royal by their name would likely seem incomprehensible. Just as if he were to use your name, it would have felt quiet unusual.

But names were personal, intimate. Names had no status, no titles. And you made him forget his title with just your presence.

You both began to walk, your arm safely nestled through the crook of his elbow. You were halfway back to the castle when a thought crossed your mind.

“And mayhaps you should call me by my name then? Instead of my lady?” you asked, feeling a little disappointed as you saw the castle come into view in the distance.

Jacaerys smiled. He had heard your name whenever you were announced, a name as beautiful as the woman who owned it. It was only fair for him to use yours if he’d asked you to use his.

“That sounds fair. It can be something we allow for moments much like we shared today?”

He let his question linger. Silently asking for there to be more days like today, without having to embarrass himself asking.

“Our little secret…Jacaerys.”

Jacaerys felt his chest tighten at the sound of his name on your lips. The way you said it so gently as though you were still unsure about using it.

The rest of the walk to the castle continued in silence, but Jacaerys couldn’t take his eyes off you for most of it. There was something about you that kept drawing him in, something that made him desperate to keep you at his side.

You gave him a sense of normality, yes. But there was something else. Something that made his heart beat a little faster whenever you entered a room.

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do…

In the days that followed, Jacaerys’ mind kept returning to you. To sitting beside you on the beach, to the sound of his name on your lips, to the feel of your hand on his arm.

He tried to ignore the fluttered feeling in his stomach whenever he thought of you, but it was more than a challenge. His cloak still held the faintest scent of your perfume, which he had begun accustomed to being able to smell whenever he wore it.

You had returned home with your father the night before, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before you were back. The trips your father made were frequent, which he was now eternally grateful for.

He had stood at the castle walls as your ship left, still remembering the kiss to his cheek that you had snuck in when your respective parents were otherwise engaged.

A kiss that was still in his mind now as he tried to read the pile of parchments in front of him. Not a single word he read seemed to hold in his mind.

Every thought he had would somehow return to you.

I knew that look, dear, eyes always seeking, was there in someone that dug long ago…

You waited in anticipation for your father to tell you when his next trip to Dragonstone would be. There was no use in hiding it, you wanted to see Jacaerys again.

There was a sense of safety with him, you weren’t afraid to relax around. As he was with you. Whether it was only friendship, or something soon to be more, you didn’t know. But the mere thought of him gave you butterflies every time.

Each time you would see your father handed a letter, you hoped it would be a summons to Dragonstone again. But a couple of weeks went by and there was nothing.

You would go to sleep each night, silently wishing that the next morning would bring a letter.

Until one morning, your wishes were answered. Your father came down to breakfast, parchment in hand and looked immediately to you.

“Ready for another journey to our Queen, sweet daughter?” he asked, already chuckling at the fervent nod you gave him.

What you did not know, was that your father was more than aware of your affection for the prince, and he was more than supportive of it. To be in the prince’s good graces, was to be in the Queen’s and your father had long cemented himself as a pillar of loyalty for Rhaenyra.

The journey was planned for that evening, so you had no hesitation in hurriedly finishing your breakfast and leaving to pack your things. All your father’s journeys to Dragonstone were a week or two at best, so preparation was key.

So I will not ask you why you were creeping, in some sad way, I already know…

The ship arrived late into the night, the servants helping you, your father and the other members of your household collect your belongings and move them inside.

The castle was quiet, late enough that you were sure most of the royal family was already asleep. The sailings were not all that long, but there was little about them that you enjoyed. Yet, despite how tired you felt, you rarely found rest after one of those journeys.

You were all shown to your rooms, but you made no move to settle down. Even when exhaustion began to settle in your bones, you were a restless soul.

And Dragonstone at night? Well, that was something you had yet to experience to its fullest advantage.

The large castle seemed even grander in the darkness. The only light were the sconces on the walls and the chamberstick in your hand. You wandered the halls, paying mind to the rooms you knew were off limits no matter the time of day.

Your aimless wandering brought you to the library. Aside from the beach, it was one of your favourite places to visit. The tall bookcases that seemed to go on endlessly, the smell of old books. There was something so comforting about it all, despite it being far grander than the library in your own home.

But just like the beach all those weeks ago, you were not alone.

You couldn’t see him, tucked into a corner and hidden by the crammed bookcases. But Jacaerys had been in the library for most of the evening. The longer the war between his mother and uncle dragged on, the heavier the title of heir to the Iron Throne had begun to weigh on him.

And Jacaerys had never been more conscious of what others thought of him.

It was only when you heard the soft scrape of a chair did you realise you weren’t the only one hidden in the rows of dusty tomes.

“Is someone there?” you called, clutching your shawl around your shoulders.

When no one answered, you began to believe your mind was playing tricks on you. Until you heard some very familiar footsteps.

“It is just me,” Jacaerys responded, appearing from his corner with a soft smile.

You breathed a sigh of relief, walking closer to him.

“Jacaerys, I thought my mind was playing me for a fool, hearing things!” you laughed, setting the chamberstick down on the table beside him.

You took the chance to look him over. Maybe it was the candlelight, but he looked far more tired than usual.

“Are you well?” you asked, trying to keep your concern polite still.

Jacaerys sighed, his shoulders visibly sagging. Your presence was a comfort, a safe space where he could let his mask slip.

He sat down in a nearby chair. He was no longer a prince; he was simply a young man with the weight of seven kingdoms on his shoulders. As if by instinct, you moved closer to him.

Aside from the goodbye kiss to his cheek and the occasional soft touch of your hands, there hadn’t been much physical contact between you.

But you could immediately sense that he simply needed…something.

So I will not ask you where you came from, I would not ask and neither would you…

Your hand went to his shoulder first, standing between the chair in which he sat and the table. The touch was gentle, giving him the chance to pull away if he wished.

But Jacaerys didn’t want to. With you, he wasn’t a Targaryen prince, he wasn’t his mother’s heir.

He was just Jacaerys.

His hand raised to hold on to yours. Lacing his fingers and simply holding on to you.

How could he tell you how he was feeling? Would you think less of him? Would you think him weak?

But you were perceptive, and you could see the maelstrom of emotions behind his eyes.

“Jace…you can talk to me, you know that?” you asked softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

You only called him Jace when emotions were high. The last time had been when you had both said goodbye.

He sighed again. Why wouldn’t the words just come out?

“I…sometimes I wish I wasn’t the heir,”

Jacaerys hurried through the words, his voice barely a whisper but enough to hear.

Your face softened, though concern lingered in your gaze.

“And why is that?”

Your head tilted down to look at him as you spoke. Your hand moving from his shoulder to his cheek. The reasons weren’t something you were unaware of, but you knew he needed to talk it through.

“There are times I wish I could simply…be. To be able to live without the shadow of the throne at my back…”

His eyes closed as he leaned into your palm. With you, he felt like that could be possible. Since that day on the beach, you had respected his wish to not be seen as a prince. For his title to mean nothing whenever you were alone.

To let him be just a real person.

His eyes met yours and a soft smile tugged at his lips.

“I feel like that with you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, butterflies tingling in your stomach. Gentle waves of affection washing over you.

You made him feel safe. You made him feel comfortable. You made him happy.

“Jace…”

No more words left your lips as he pulled you closer. Wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking his under your chin. You hesitated for only a moment before you returned his embrace. Resting your cheek on the crown of his head.

“You make me feel real,” he whispered, his voice muffled against your neck.

You were sure he could have felt the rapid thump of your heartbeat now. But his was beating just the same.

The words hung heavy between you. The feelings between you both had been unspoken since the beach. Though it was only a few weeks, the tension had only grown more with separation.

You didn’t know what to say, but you realised you didn’t need to say anything. Your lips pressed to his curls, tightening your arms around his shoulders.

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips. We should just kiss like real people do…

The warmth of your lips on his skin was like a wave of calm. A balm to his tortured mind. Your mere presence seemed to hold the ability to fix his problems.

One of the hands on your waist moved to hold your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to your palm.

But when his eyes met yours this time, there was only one thing he wished to do.

The kiss was gentle, tentative. But every ounce of love and affection that he held for you into it. The arm around your waist pulling you ever tighter into his hold.

And when the kiss broke, your leaned down to rest your forehead against his. Everything felt different, in the best way.

He was yours and you were his. For just a moment, Jacaerys could pretend he was just a normal person. He was happy and loved for who he was.

And you silently vowed to make it so he would feel that way forever.

I could not ask you where you came from. I could not ask and neither could you…

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips. We could just kiss like real people do.

Jace Taglist:

@legitalicat @thenameswinter99 @sylasthegrim

@blissfulphilospher @elaratyrell @multyfangirl

(if you want to be added/deleted, let me know)

[megumiluvv]

“Oh, by the way, what are you getting your partner for Valentine’s Day?” Choso hears his coworker ask him.

Valentine’s Day. He had almost forgotten. What is he going to get you? Should he plan a date? He can’t, you’re Yuji’s babysitter. He doubts Gojo will let the boy stay the night during Valentine’s of all days. What is he supposed to do?

“Uh, I’ll show you next time I see you.” He quickly covers for his coworker.

“Hah, can’t wait, see you later.”

He can’t believe that the coworker bought that poor excuse. Now he just needs to come up with something. He’s scrolling through his phone when his phone dings. A message from Sukuna.

Of course! How could he forget that he has an uncle? Sukuna can handle watching Yuji for a night, right? As if he has plans anyways. He checks the text from the older male.

“Are you needing a babysitter for tonight or do you not have plans?”

“I was just about to text you.” Choso replies, though he obviously just got the idea. “Can you watch Yuji for the night?”

“I guess, you’re so inconvenient.”

“You messaged me first, uncle.”

He can imagine the scoff his uncle just let out.

“Fine, but if he cries and asks to FaceTime you, it’s not happening.”

“Fine by me, I’m hoping I’ll be too busy to answer anyways.”

“Enjoy your date, wear protection.”

“Don’t be inappropriate, uncle. And thank you.”

With that handled, he hurries home and packs a bag for Yuji. The pink-haired boy enters the apartment with a big grin and a bag full of candy. He had a Valentine’s party in class today.

“Choso, guess what?? Megumi gave me his special present! He said he only gave it to me!” Yuji shows off a small stuffed tiger.

“Aww, that’s sweet, did you have fun?”

“Yeah! Lots and lots of fun! And I have a lottt of candy!”

“I see that. I’ll make sure it’s safe. You’re going to uncle Sukuna’s house tonight.”

“Why?” Yuji tilts his head.

“Because I have plans for Valentine’s Day.”

“Okay!”

Yuji plays with his new stuffed animal and you step into their apartment. The boy’s eyes light up and he runs to you.

“Look look! See what Megumi gave me? He gave it to only me! It’s a tiger!”

“I see, I see, Yuji. It’s amazing.” You reply and ruffle the boy’s hair.

Choso smiles and watches you two interact. Your smile is always full of kindness, so full of affection… Yuji giggles and tries to fix his disheveled hair.

“I’m going to my uncle’s tonight!” Yuji grins.

“Oh? Why’s that?” You tilt your head to Choso.

“I was planning a date for us.” Choso explains.

“Aww, how sweet! I can’t wait to see what you’ve got planned.” You smile to the ravenette.

Sukuna picks up Yuji, and you go to your apartment to dress nicely. Now Choso has another dilemma. Every restaurant he would rather take you to is reservation only tonight. Talk about bad luck. He refuses to go somewhere less than five star, so he quickly sets up his table to look like it’s ready for fine dining.

When you re-enter Choso’s apartment, you smile a bit at the gesture. “Dining in tonight?”

“Sorry, it’s last minute. But I do have some meat ready to be cooked. Anything you want. We can even try making a cake again.” Choso rubs your hips with his thumbs, a little nervous for some reason.

“Hmm, let’s share a pasta. Like that dog movie Yuji watched.”

Choso grins and prepares the pasta while you make a cake. You decide to play some music so the kitchen isn’t silent. An hour later, everything is ready. You let Choso sit you at the table and he takes the seat opposite you. You both share a large plate of pasta and a slice of cake topped with strawberries.

“I think this is nicer than any other date I’ve had for valentines. Most guys just gave me flowers and chocolates and then took me to wherever they wanted for the date.” You think out loud.

“Yeah, this is much nicer than other dates. And we haven’t really had a date since that first one. Since I’ve been busy and Yuji hasn’t really been out of our hands.”

“I haven’t even realized that much time had passed. Feels like no time passes when I’m with you.” You smile.

Choso’s heart flutters. How can you continue to be so perfect, all the time? The two of you wash dishes and the music changes to a slow dance song. Choso dries his hands and offers one to you.

“May I have this dance?”

You grin and take his hand. “You may.”

His other hand meets your waist while yours rests on his shoulder. You keep eye contact as you both sway in the kitchen, soft music filling the moonlit room. The quiet click of heels on the tile matches the beat of the song.

“Thank you for tonight, Choso. You always manage to sweep me off my feet, no matter what you do. Cooking dinner with you and sharing it is more intimate than some restaurant, and I appreciate it more.” You smile as he pulls you closer.

“I should be thanking you for agreeing to everything last minute. I honestly forgot what today was until a coworker talked about it.” He huffs out of annoyance of himself.

“Things are worth waiting for if it’s you. Last minute or not, I’m glad to spend Valentine’s with you.”

“…you’re an angel after my heart.”

“Would you let me have it?” You giggle.

“Gladly.”

You both smile and share a kiss, lips pressing and molding each other’s as if they were made to connect. He carries you to his room, ready to celebrate Valentine’s Day in a different way with you.

Happy Valentine’s Day!! ᰔᩚ

Masterlist

Taglist (ask to join anytime): @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee @auor4 @chaotic-ish @meowsannie

@mediokerrv @mysteriaqueen @flooftoof @dazaisfavgf @theirlgarfield

@jasminelee324 @t-candy @luvdella

[muletia]

I can’t cook for the life of me but uh, here goes (baby’s first ask off anon lmao)

Imagine the newly exiled Megatron (formerly D16) just being tired and stressed from all the hassle of establishing the new pecking order (while I figure the majority of the old high guard backs him, there are not too keen on this newer, younger bot taking command) and he finds comfort in resting with the reader. Like… he’s resting his helm on their chest, trying to keep it together, but reader is able to reassure him he’s what is best for the Decepticon cause as their leader and he’s worthy of his position.

Okay I’m gonna scurry away now under my rock like a little pill bug and not make everyone sad. :3

[tfo] megatron x human!reader

word count: 600

very short, took me way longer than it should cuz words weren't wording but I needed to write about tfo megs

Silence. Peace. When was the last time he had a chance to spend time in his habsuite? When was the last time he allowed himself intimacy with you? When did he last have time to catch his breath?

He doesn't remember. That's why he wants to squeeze every last nanoklik out of this fleeting privacy. Before the chaos returns, the conflicts resurface, and the venomous glares at the back of his helm return. Before the guilt over everything that happened in Iacon manages to catch up with him. Buries his mass-displaced helm deeper into your chest, as if trying to fuse the two of you together, shrinking the world around down to just you. Desperately trying not to break, not to scare you away with the turmoil reigning in his processor. Holding you close for as long as he possibly can, because you are the only being keeping him from breaking down and destroying everything in his path.

There’s so much he wants to tell you. About the chaos, the disorder. About how Starscream drives him to madness. About the expectations he still cannot meet. Wants to pour all his stress, frustration, and grief into words, feelings that claw at his glossa like wild animals begging to be set free. But he knows the walls have ears. A newly appointed leader cannot appear overwhelmed, let alone uncertain. Yet peace is a privilege, and unloading his emotional burden is a treasure he cannot afford. He must be strong. Resilient. No feelings. No stress.

“You’re doing great,” you say, stroking his massive helm, heavy with worry.

But he already has a weakness. The greatest one. Painful and unbearable, because the mere thought of losing you dims the spark burning within him with passion.

“You are a good leader. The best and the only one worthy of such a demanding and difficult position,” you add, placing the gentlest, most tender kiss on the top of his helm. That brief contact with your lips momentarily overshadows his suffering.

Wants to tell you how deeply grateful he is for your mere presence. How much he appreciates that you’re here with him, that you’ve stayed after the torment in the mines and, of your own free will, chose to join him. After everything he’s done, you witnessed his cruelty firsthand. Offer him comfort he doesn’t deserve. He isolates you, and separates from the rest out of fear that someone might use you against him. Knows he doesn’t deserve your affection, knows he causes you pain and suffering, knows he can be harsh and aggressive. And he hopes you understand that he has to be this way. Though he cannot fathom how you can greet him with open arms. Every time. Without a trace of hatred, always with a joyful smile.

“Only you can lead the Decepticons to the glory they deserve. You deserve,” you say, offering another kiss that melts his spark. Megatron slides his servo behind your back to gently caress it with his thumb, anchoring himself even further in this rare sense of comfort. “You are strong. Resourceful. Able to handle every challenge.”

He’s not yet sure of your words. They’re too raw, spoken too soon. They build confidence and reassure him — oh, how they comfort and soothe the urge to cry — but he wants to let them ripen because he must believe in them himself.

For now, he’s content with the closeness. With having his own corner where you always wait for him, with your delicate hands cradling his helm so tenderly, with moments when he can rest. Your presence is enough. One day, he’ll tell you everything. About the ugly and the messy, the most hidden and intangible parts of himself. But for now, this is enough. It has to be.

[s0lar-ch3ri]

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY TO @justyouraverageleafykinnie AND @dogboyratgirl TAKE THE SILLIES

tw theyre fluffy and sweet in this so yeah (also long. also will maybe post to ao3 someday idrk)

title is "together we can figure it out!" a bears in trees lyric

this fic features lint from wonderlust as well as wonderlust ocs of my friends :3 (I AM NOT CAUGHT UP WITH WONDERLUST DO NOT EXPECT TO GET FUTURE EP REFS I DONT MIND SPOILERS IM JUST SAYING)

description: It's Aluntine's day (or their world's Valentine's day), and for strange, almost 100% homosexual reasons, Lint can't do anything but find his way back to Apple.

Lint had faced many Aluntines days inside the bakery with his mom, just making cookies. Couples came in, grabbed sweet little treats for their sweet little treats (that isn't incredible wording, maybe he hangs out by Troy too much), and left. It wasn't a lonely time, not when it made business. As he looks across the tables before opening, things feel different.

"You alright Bumblebee?"

Lint half-buzzes back a response. It's not even opening time, he needs to keep it together. Come on!

"Repeat that?"

He buzzes a bit more, less responding to the question and more mumbling to himself. Nothing else is different, nothing's too special about today, well maybe minus...

He leaves the bakery, off to find his sweet little treat.

Apple is not expecting much today. Yes, this time around, Apple could have gone with Lint somewhere nice, however he knew Lint was busy today at the bakery, so maybe he would bug him after. In the meantime, Apple was working on writing something. The plan was simple: finish this, check on the orchard, maybe visit the bakery and see that bee, all that good stuff.

Just like how he changed his life, Lint had changed his plans. With a jumpscare that made Apple fall out his chair, a special bee came buzzing in. All of Apple's panic faded into something softer seeing the culprit of the noise. He sighs a bit.

"Hello, sugarfly."

"I...I feel strange." Lint stands a bit awkwardly in the doorway. Apple repositions himself so they sit up better.

"Go on."

"I thought today was gonna be a normal day, but it just...doesn't. And I didn't know where to go so..."

"Of course." Apple starts cleaning up his writing supplies. He can finish it later.

"Do you uh- how do you ask this sort of thing..."

Apple bleats curiously.

"Do you want to be my Alumni? I just...I don't know. We can uh, hang out, like always, but, special? Not really? Help me out here..."

Apple giggles. "Of course darling."

He buzzes excitedly and Apple can't help but grin at him. I mean, when it's a nice day outside, pretty and basically shining, who could help themself?

"What were you thinking of?"

Lint sinks a bit into himself. Oh cog, he didn't think of something big. Or, uh, anything. What did Mars say? Deep breaths? He takes a couple, in for 7, hold for 6, release for 5. Surely Apple wouldn't mind. He hates liars anyways.

"I uh...I don't know. I just knew I had to come to you."

"That's okay! We can figure it out together!"

Cog that goat was pretty. No, Lint, focus! You have to give them the best date he's ever seen! Just how…

“Maybe a nice restaurant?”

“They may be all reserved out babydoll…”

“Oh…Does my place sound nice?”

“Always does.”

Did it feel silly to take Apple from their house to bee’s? Yes, but to be fair, there were specific things Lint needed there to make sure this was perfect. Apple deserved nothing less.

Walking in, she hears some commotion from the kitchen, mostly just grumbling and the sounds of the assembly of a gift. Looking past his neutral green walls into the kitchen with its purple walls, he sees Troy, bright red and looking just pissed. He angrily puts a ribbon around a set of orchids colored with mint and blue orchids. Despite his pissed…everything, Troy handles the flowers with much care.

“Something wrong Champion?”

“JAX.”

 “Is he-”

“THAT STUPID PRETTY BOY BASTARD ASKED ME ON A DATE BEFORE I COULD AND I NEED TO BEAT HIM WITH MY SLED. ALSO MAYBE KISS HIM.”

“You go do that love.”

Troy stomps by him, grabbing his face gently and kisses his cheek. Lint giggles, which sounds a bit like a buzz. He buzzes a lot. That wasn’t a bad thing, he hopes. Maybe he should just set up the movie.

“We uh, we’ve gotten a lot of movies. There’s Ratatoing- that’s not a good one, there’s Cloverfield, Jax may have left around his strange ‘Ratnarok’ documentaries or something- what interests you?”

“Uhhhh, all of them?”

“Love Rattually it is.”

As Apple helps with selecting the movie, he sets up the couch with its assortment of pillows and blankets. One is plain and fuzzy, a muted green, another a felt one with sunflowers on it. Lint grabs some pretzels and popcorn in the kitchen, he also prepares 2 cups of coffee, one for himself, and one for his heaven send.

Apple is still by the couch, sitting, waiting for Lint. He holds the letter he had planned to give Lint later that day, going over each carefully plucked and nurtured word. Lint had brought lights to his days that he would have known from no other being or aspect of living, the least he can do is give him something of perfection. Lint deserves nothing less.

He adds a couple details to it and carefully folds it so as to not crease it. He hopes it’s good enough. They finish the set up as footsteps come on by them behind the couch. Lint holds his arms around Apple from above as bee places in his hands a cup of coffee.

“Got you a cup! Made with love.” Lint is buzzing with joy, putting his head on Apple’s shoulder. Apple takes this as the chance to pepper him slightly with kisses, but like any well made dish, too much seasoning- well here it just made him giggle and light-heartedly protest.

“Let me put my cup down first angel!” He smiles and snickers and Apple feels his heart flutter around and he gains another reason to love him.

Lint climbs over into the blankets and snuggles up next to Apple as they play some movies, drinking coffee. At certain parts, Apple turns his gaze back to Lint and sometimes Lint’s looking at him. As eyes meet, the boys giggle as they give each other compliments and flirts and kisses. As their binging goes on, their energy simmers down with the time, fading into simple cuddling on the couch. Cups sit on the table, basically empty, with the TV’s hum as natural to the environment as Lint’s buzzing was to him. He adored this bee beyond words.

He carefully wriggles his letter out from his pocket, using the blue light to guide his reading ability.

‘’Dearest sweetest bee I’ve known, Lint

There are many things I want to tell you. I want to tell you how you are the light of my days and how no sun nor star could outshine you. I want to tell you how your voice is a gracious melody, with each note and buzz writing a harmonious tune I wish to hold forever. I want to tell you how I could count the stars that trail the sky and name all the shades of its majesty and not once could I think of a world where it’d be a more beautiful sight then the warmth of your smile. I want to tell you how you’ve taken my world and sculpted it to a more magical and wondrous one then I could have arrived too. I want to tell you how the ideas of love and friendship were carefully taught to me by the wondrous bee you are. I want to tell you how you’re the sweetest nectar I’ve tried and I’ve never felt once a need to find another.

There are many things I want to tell you. Maybe I can settle with a few words. I love you Lint, you are a shining star, thank you, I love you, thank you.

All the love I can give,

Apple’’

He’s still unsure if all he’s wanted to say is there, if that’s what bee would understand is true. Thoughts swarm Apple’s head, like a wasp hive, aiming for his heart. Before he gets lost in his mind, Apple hears a small faint buzz from a special someone under his head. He seemed to have fallen asleep a bit ago. The small reminder grounds Apple and his heart calms down with him. He’s got someone too close to there to be so worried. He remembers Lint’s words before, what he didn’t exactly say but was always there.

I didn't know where to go so I came to you.

Apple smiles a bit, closing his eyes and falling for the background TV ambience himself. Together they will figure it out.

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭*

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → SMUT!! 18+, language, lingerie?

Summary → Peter buys something special for you as valentine's day gift.

Peter had been thinking about Valentine’s Day for weeks now. Every year, he tried to find something meaningful, something that showed how much he loved you. Last year, a few handwritten letters that took him hours to finish. The year before that, it was a framed picture of the two of you at Coney Island, where he’d first told you he loved you. But this year, he wanted something special. He wanted to make you feel special.

So, after finishing patrol early, he headed to the mall. He already had something in mind. He directly went into the jewellery store. The moment his eyes landed on the pendant, he knew it was perfect: a delicate silver chain with a spider web pendant, simple but elegant, and undeniably you. The web design felt personal, a nod to his double life as Spider-Man, but subtle enough that it wasn’t obvious to anyone else. He could already imagine how it would glint softly around your neck.

As Peter walked out of the jewelry store, satisfied with his choice, something in the corner of his eye made him pause. He blinked and turned his head.

There, in the display window of a lingerie store, was a mannequin wearing a red and black babydoll lingerie set. The colors caught him off guard—his colors. His Spider-Man suit colors. Red and black, with ribbon bow in the front, lace trim and delicate satin that shimmered under the soft lights. Peter could almost see you wearing it, the way the fabric would cling to your body, how it would look on you...

He stopped walking, staring at the display like he was hypnotized. What was he thinking? Lingerie? For you? It wasn’t like you’d never worn it before—you had, and you’d surprised him a few times too—but he’d never thought about buying something like this for you himself. It was always something you did, not him.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck nervously, glancing around the crowded mall like someone might catch him committing a crime. “What am I doing?” He muttered under his breath, but even as he said it, he found himself inching closer to the store window. The thought of you in that lingerie, his colors, was stuck in his mind now. A heat crept up his neck, and before he knew it, his feet had carried him to the entrance of the store.

He hesitated at the doorway, inhaling the floral scent of lavender that wafted through the air. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the shop was much quieter and more peaceful than the bustling mall. Delicate lace, satin, and silk in various shades filled the racks, and Peter suddenly felt way out of his depth.

“Okay, I can do this,” he whispered to himself, forcing his feet to move inside.

As he stood awkwardly in the middle of the store, his eyes darting from one rack to the next, a cheerful voice startled him.

“Can I help you with something, sir?”

Peter whipped his head around, caught off guard. A sales assistant, maybe a few years older than him, stood with a friendly smile, holding a few items she was arranging on a nearby display. Peter felt his face flush.

“Uh, yeah… I, um, was just looking at the, uh…” He pointed vaguely towards the window display. “The red and black set over there.”

The assistant followed his gaze and nodded knowingly. “Great choice! That’s one of our most popular items. Is it for a special occasion?”

Peter coughed nervously, his eyes glued to the floor. “Valentine’s Day… for my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s sweet! I’m sure she’ll love it,” she said, walking toward the display to grab the set. “Let me grab her size. Do you know her measurements?”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. Measurements? Right. Measurements.

“Uh… measurements?” He repeated, panic slowly building in his chest. Why hadn’t he thought about this? He knew so much about you, down to the smallest details—your favorite flower, how you liked your pizza, the way you always scrunched up your nose when you concentrated—but lingerie sizes? That was a complete mystery.

Peter scratched the back of his head, feeling heat rush to his cheeks. “I, uh… I don’t know her exact size.”

The sales assistant gave him a reassuring smile, sensing his discomfort. “That’s okay! Do you know her bra size? That might help.”

Peter gulped, trying to remember. He’d seen you in enough bras to have some idea, but he’d never really paid attention to the numbers. “I… think it’s, um… maybe (a size) ? Somewhere around there.” He rubbed his forehead, wishing he could vanish.

The assistant chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, we can work with that. I’ll grab it for you.”

She disappeared into the back of the store, leaving Peter standing alone, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, feeling completely out of place. Why did this feel like one of the most embarrassing moments of his life? And why was he still imagining you in that lingerie?

Moments later, the assistant returned with a neatly folded set in her hands, placing it in a sleek black silk bag. “Here you go. I think this will be perfect for her.”

Peter exhaled, grateful that this part was over. “Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the bag and heading straight to the register.

As he left the store, his heart still raced, though now it was a mixture of nerves and excitement. He wasn’t sure if you’d laugh at him for buying something like this, or if you’d find it sweet and thoughtful. Maybe both. Either way, he couldn’t wait to see your reaction.

When Peter finally got back to the apartment, he let out a sigh of relief. You weren’t home yet. Good. He quickly opened his closet and shoved the black silk bag under a pile of clothes, burying it deep, just in case you went snooping.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, closing the closet door. “Tomorrow. It’s all about tomorrow.”

Now all he had to do was wait.

----------

You dragged yourself through the front door, your body aching from a long, exhausting day. Kicking off your shoes with a tired groan, you shuffled into the living room, your eyes immediately landing on Peter sprawled out on the couch, watching some random show. Without a second thought, you dropped your bag on the floor and flopped down on top of him, burying your face into his chest as you let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Hey, baby, tired?" Peter asked, his voice soft as he wrapped his arms around you, his fingers gently running up and down your back.

"Mmhmm," you mumbled into his shirt. “You smell nice.”

Peter chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “That’s because I just showered.”

You snuggled deeper into his chest, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of him. “I needed this. You’re the best pillow.”

“I try,” he teased, his hand stroking your hair in slow, soothing motions. You could feel the tension of the day melting away, your body relaxing against him.

For a while, you just laid there, enjoying the warmth of his body, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. But as cozy as you were, you knew you had to freshen up. Reluctantly, you pushed yourself up with a sigh. “Alright, I should get changed before I fall asleep right here.”

Peter smiled, watching you with affection as you shuffled to your room. “I’ll get dinner started while you change.”

You flashed him a grateful smile before disappearing down the hall. A few minutes later, you emerged from the bedroom in your comfiest clothes, feeling much more refreshed. As you made your way to the kitchen, you noticed something… off. Peter was standing by the stove, stirring something in a pot, but he was quieter than usual. His movements were a bit jittery, and he kept glancing around like he was distracted.

“You okay, Peter?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he stammered, avoiding eye contact as he quickly stirred the pot a little too enthusiastically.

“O...kay,” you replied slowly, raising an eyebrow at him. Peter was never a great liar, and something was definitely up.

You leaned against the counter, watching him fumble around the kitchen. He was practically vibrating with nervous energy. “Okay, spill it. Did you do something?” Your voice had that playful but warning edge to it, the one you used whenever he was clearly hiding something.

“What? No!” Peter’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, looking like he’d just been caught red-handed.

“Peter…” You crossed your arms, your tone turning more insistent.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck—his classic nervous tell. “Okay, okay, I um I bought your Valentine’s gift, and I can’t wait to show you tomorrow.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, your lips curving into a smile. “Oooo, is it that special?”

Peter’s lips twitched into a confident smirk, his nervousness melting away now that the secret was out. “Uh-huh. You’ll love it, trust me.”

“The way you’re acting all smug makes me think my gift for you is going to lose the battle,” you pouted as you leaned in closer to him.

Peter leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, teasing kiss. “Come on, anything from you is special,” he whispered against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

You playfully rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth spreading through your chest. “Alright, Mr. Flirt. But if my gift doesn’t wow you, you only have yourself to blame.”

Peter laughed, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

He returned to cooking, but you could still see that mischievous glint in his eyes. Whatever he had planned for tomorrow, it was going to be something special. But for now, you were just content to be here with him, enjoying the calm before whatever surprise awaited you.

-----------

The morning sun poured through the windows as you and Peter strolled into your favorite little breakfast café. The scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries filled the air as you both took a seat by the window, the Valentine’s Day mood setting in perfectly. You smiled across the table at Peter, the excitement buzzing in you all morning.

“Is it something I wanted?” You asked, taking a sip of your coffee.

Peter smirked, his eyes twinkling as he reached for his cup. “Not really. But patience, Bug.”

“Ugh, Peterrrr,” you groaned dramatically, leaning back in your chair. “You know I’m dying to see what you got me.”

Peter chuckled. “Just a few more hours. It’ll be worth the wait, promise.”

After breakfast, you both parted ways for your classes, though your mind kept drifting back to the gift. What could Peter have possibly gotten that made him so smug? The suspense was killing you, and your excitement only grew as the hours passed.

Finally, after classes ended, you and Peter met up at a cozy café near campus. You sipped on your coffee, both of you catching up on your day, but you could barely focus on anything else.

“I can’t wait anymore! What did you get me?” You asked, your voice full of anticipation.

Peter chuckled softly, clearly enjoying dragging this out. “Patience, baby.”

“Parker, I’m serious!” You pouted, giving him a glare.

Peter smiled, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Okay, okay. Just a few more minutes till we reach home.”

As soon as you both stepped through the front door, you were practically buzzing with excitement. You bounced on your heels, looking at Peter expectantly.

“Alright, alright,” Peter laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “I got you two gifts.”

“Two?!” You exclaimed, eyes wide. “Not fair, Parker. I only got you one!”

Peter shrugged with a grin. “That’s fine. Give me yours first.”

You hurried to the bedroom, grabbing the gift bag you’d carefully prepared, and brought it back to him. Peter's sitting in the living room now. He’s eyes lit up as you handed to him. He reached inside the bag, pulling out the custom-made Star Wars sweatshirt.

“Wow, babe! This is awesome,” he said, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree as he ran his fingers over the design. “I love it.”

But it wasn’t until he pulled out the handwritten letter that his eyes really softened. He looked at you, wide-eyed, his heart clearly touched. “This… this is so sweet. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it,” you said with a smile, feeling warmth spread through your chest.

Peter leaned over and kissed you gently. “I love it.”

“My turn now,” he said, standing up and heading toward the closet. You sat up straighter, your heart racing as Peter came back with two small bags.

He handed you a small, beautifully wrapped box first, and your fingers quickly tore through the wrapping. You gently opened the box, revealing a delicate silver chain with a spider web pendant. Your eyes lit up as you held it up, admiring the intricate design—it was so Peter.

“Peter, this is beautiful!” You gasped, your fingers gently tracing the pendant. Emotion tightened your throat. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

Relief washed over him, and he let out a small sigh. “I’m glad you like it. I just thought—well, you know, since—”

You smiled, cutting him off with a soft kiss. “It’s perfect, babe. Thank you.”

Peter smiled, his eyes warm. “Here, let me.” He took the necklace from you and gently clasped it around your neck, the cool silver resting perfectly against your skin. “There. It looks perfect on you.”

You touched the pendant, feeling your heart swell with affection. “Thank you,” you whispered, giving him another kiss on the cheek.

But then Peter hesitated, holding out a small black silk bag, looking more nervous than you'd seen him in a while. Your curiosity piqued as you took it, untying the delicate ribbon and opening the bag.

Your eyes widened when you saw what was inside—a silky red-and-black lingerie set. His suit's colors. You looked up at Peter, who was biting his lip nervously, his face a little flushed.

“Peter Parker… did you just buy me lingerie? ” You asked, your tone both amused and surprised.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, clearly sheepish. “Uh, yeah. I saw it and… I don’t know, I thought you’d look amazing in it. I mean, you always do, but—uh, you know.” His words tumbled out awkwardly.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, not at him but at the idea of Peter standing in a lingerie store picking out something like this. The thought was both endearing and unexpected.

You pulled the lingerie out of the bag to admire it. It was delicate, silky, and very… Peter. “Red and black, huh? Your colors?”

Peter chuckled, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “Yeah, I guess I couldn’t resist. Do you… like it?”

You looked up at him, your heart fluttering at the thought of him stepping out of his comfort zone for this. “I love it. You’re adorable, you know that?”

Peter let out a relieved laugh. “I was so nervous. I didn’t know if you’d think it was weird.”

You shook your head, grinning. “Not weird at all. In fact… I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you to buy something like this.”

Peter chuckled again, still bashful. “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

You leaned in, kissing his cheek softly. “You’ve got good taste.”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah? So you’re not freaked out or anything?”

“Not at all,” you replied with a smirk before excitement took over. “I’m gonna go put it on!”

You ran to your bedroom with a bounce in your step. Peter watched you disappear. He swallowed hard, a nervous laugh escaping him, fidgeting, trying to act casual, but his heart raced faster than when he swung between skyscrapers as he imagined what you’d look like. He had always thought you were stunning, but this… this felt different.

After a few moments, you called out from the bedroom, "Peter, close your eyes!"

He blinked, realizing he’d been staring at the door, waiting in anticipation. "O-okay!" He quickly squeezed his eyes shut, his foot tapping anxiously.

He heard the door creaked open, and then your voice, "Okay, you can open them now."

When Peter opened his eyes, he felt his breath catch in his throat. There you stood, in front of him, wearing the red and black babydoll lingerie. The fabric hugged your body perfectly, accentuating every curve in a way that had Peter's mind reeling. His gaze trailed over you, from the delicate straps on your shoulders, to the way the red lace contrasted against your skin, all the way down to the short hem that barely grazed your thighs.

“Holy…,” Peter whispered, eyes wide, lips parted in awe. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Every inch of you screamed perfection, and he felt his body reacting instantly. His jeans felt tighter, and his heart pounded like crazy.

You gave him a playful twirl, showing off how the fabric moved against your skin. “Someone’s excited,” you teased, noticing his boner, his eyes roaming over you like you were the only thing that existed in the world. "So… what do you think, Spidey?"

Peter swallowed hard, his mind struggling to form words. "I… you… wow." He stood up, slowly making his way over to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "You look… I don’t even have words for how beautiful you are."

You blushed under his intense gaze, biting your lip. "You sure? You're kind of just staring."

"Yeah," he whispered, his hands hovering near your waist but not quite touching yet. "I can't help it. You look incredible."

His eyes roamed over you again, and you could feel the heat in his gaze. It was like he couldn't decide where to focus—your legs, your chest, your eyes—he wanted to take in every detail. Slowly, his hands moved to your waist, fingers brushing lightly over the soft fabric.

"I’m glad you like it," you teased softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. "It fits perfectly, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does," Peter murmured, his hands sliding up your sides now, feeling the lace and satin beneath his fingertips. "And, God, you look even better in it than I imagined." His voice was low, almost a growl, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands now trailing lower, down to the curve of your hips. "You’re perfect," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours lightly.

You laughed softly, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin. "Peter, you’re staring again."

"I know," he admitted with a smirk, his hands now gripping your waist firmly, pulling you closer. "Can’t help it. You’re just… I mean, how am I supposed to keep my hands off you when you look like this?"

"Who said you had to?" You whispered, your lips barely brushing his.

That was all the encouragement Peter needed. His lips crashed into yours with a hunger that took your breath away, his hands roaming freely now, exploring every inch of your body. His touch was warm, his grip possessive, as if he wanted to memorize the way you felt beneath his hands.

You gasped against his lips as his hands moved lower, squeezing your ass before sliding up to your waist again. "Peter," you breathed, feeling the heat building between you. His lips moved from yours, trailing down your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

"You’re driving me crazy," he murmured against your collarbone, his hands gripping the lace at your hips, pulling you flush against him. "You have no idea how hard it is to keep it together right now."

You chuckled softly, running your fingers through his curls. "Then don’t."

Peter’s breath hitched, his entire body tensing as his heated gaze locked onto yours. His hands twitched at his sides, barely holding himself back. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, and in one swift motion, he scooped you up effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

You giggled in surprise as he carried you toward the bed, his lips brushing lightly against your neck. Gently, Peter laid you down, his hands caressing your body as his eyes trailed over you, like he was memorizing every detail. His heart pounded, and the desire in his eyes was impossible to hide.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Peter murmured, his voice rough with need as he hovered over you, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes darkened with desire as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a rough, heated kiss. His hands, trembling with urgency, slid over the curve of your waist, down to your hips, his fingers gripping you possessively as if he couldn’t get enough.

You kissed him back eagerly, your fingers threading through his messy curls, tugging him closer as the kiss deepened. Peter’s lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, his kisses hot and fevered, before moving lower, grazing your neck. His lips grew more insistent, and when he found that sensitive spot that made you gasp, he didn’t hesitate to suck hard, leaving a trail of marks in his wake, each one claiming you in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“Mmm, Peter,” you breathed out, arching your neck to give him more access. Your hands ran over his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as he worked his mouth down your body.

Peter’s hands moved lower, tugging on the ribbon that held the lingerie together in the middle of your chest. The fabric loosened, exposing your boobs to him. His eyes darkened even more, and without missing a beat, he lowered his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking gently at first before he let his tongue swirl around it. His other hand moved to your other boob, squeezing and massaging it, his thumb brushing over your sensitive skin.

“Peter…” you moaned softly, your fingers tightening in his hair as the pleasure rippled through you. The feeling of his hot mouth and strong hands on your body was overwhelming, in the best way possible.

Peter groaned against your skin, loving every sound you made. “You're so soft,” he muttered between kisses, his voice deep and full of raw emotion. He switched to your other boob, lavishing it with just as much attention, his lips sucking and biting gently, making you shiver beneath him.

Your back arched off the bed, your breathing coming out in ragged gasps as Peter continued his assault on your senses. He was relentless, his hands roaming over your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

“You have no idea what you're doing to me,” Peter growled softly, his lips brushing against your collarbone as his hands moved lower, tracing the curves of your hips. “I’ve been thinking about this… about you… all day.”

You moaned in response, your body on fire from his touch. “Peter… please…” You didn’t even know what you were asking for, but you needed more—more of him, more of everything.

Peter grinned against your skin. With a gentle yet confident movement, he slipped his hand under your babydoll lingerie, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped softly, feeling his fingertips trace the curves of your body with a slow, deliberate reverence. As he tugged your thong down, a rush of excitement coursed through you, your heart racing with anticipation.

“Peter,” you breathed, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and desire.

He grinned against your skin, sensing your need. “Patience, baby,” he teased, his voice low and teasing as his hands continued exploring. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, his warmth enveloping you, making you melt against him, craving more of his touch. “I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered, his words a promise. You shivered at the thought, knowing Peter wouldn’t stop until you were completely undone.

Then, as if sensing your desire, he began to trail kisses down your body, moving lower and lower. The sensation of his lips against your skin made your breath hitch. When he finally reached your most sensitive spot, he paused for a moment, looking up at you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. Before you could respond, he dove in, his mouth capturing you in a way that made your back arch and your fingers tangle in his hair.

Every flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but gasp, your body reacting instinctively to his every move. “Peter… oh my god,” you moaned, the sensations overwhelming yet intoxicating.

He expertly teased you, alternating between gentle caresses and firmer movements that had you losing track of time. As he continued to work his mouth against you, you felt one of his fingers slip between your folds, teasingly tracing your entrance.

“Peter…” you gasped, your breath hitching at the new sensation. He looked up at you with a smirk, and then he slowly pushed a finger inside you, filling you completely. You gasped at the stretch, a mix of pleasure and intensity flooding your senses.

He began to move his finger in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue as he lavished attention on your most sensitive spot. The dual sensations were overwhelming, drawing soft moans from your lips. “Just like that,” you encouraged, your voice shaky with pleasure.

Peter added another finger, stretching you deliciously as he worked to find that perfect spot inside you. Each thrust of his fingers, combined with the swirling of his tongue, sent you spiraling closer to the edge. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, tightening with every movement.

“Please, don’t stop,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a determined glint in his eye, Peter picked up the pace, his fingers curling and pressing deep within you while his mouth continued its teasing work. The world around you faded away, and all that mattered was the pleasure building within you.

Finally, with one last wave of his skilled mouth and fingers, you felt the tension snap. “Peter!” You cried out, your body arching as you succumbed to the bliss of your release, waves of pleasure washing over you.

Peter lingered for a moment longer, his fingers still moving gently inside you as you came down from your high, the warmth of his body grounding you. He watched your trembling form with a smug grin, clearly pleased with himself, his gaze full of satisfaction. Slowly, he pulled out his fingers, leaving you breathless and dazed, completely captivated by the intensity of what had just happened.

But as he stood up, his eyes still locked on yours, your heart began to race again. You watched, mesmerized, as he stripped off his clothes, each piece falling away with deliberate slowness, sending a fresh wave of anticipation coursing through your veins. The room felt electric, the heat between you two growing once more.

He stood before you, his body beautifully sculpted, muscles glistening in the soft light. You couldn't help but admire him—his lean frame, the way his skin looked almost flawless, and the sight of his tip, red and aching for you. The raw need in his gaze made your breath hitch again, the air thick with desire.

Peter caught you staring, a playful smirk crossing his lips as he climbed back onto the bed. He reached for a condom, tearing open the package with a quick, practiced motion before rolling it onto himself. The sight sent another wave of heat through you.

“Ready for me, baby?” He whispered, hovering over you once more, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, tantalizing kiss. The taste of you lingered on your lips as he kissed you deeply, pouring all his desire into the moment.

When he pulled back slightly, his eyes bore into yours, a mixture of affection and lust swirling within them. “I want to make you feel amazing,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

Without breaking eye contact, he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock. You could feel the heat radiating from him, your body instinctively arching against him, craving his fullness.

In one smooth motion, he pushed inside you, his movements confident and assured. The sensation was blissful, your bodies fitting together perfectly as he filled you completely. You gasped at the sudden stretch, feeling utterly consumed by him.

“Fuck, Peter,” you breathed, your body welcoming him, the familiar pleasure sparking to life within you.

He began to move, his thrusts steady and deep, every push sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you. You felt alive, completely lost in the moment, your body responding eagerly to his every move.

“Just like that,” you encouraged, your hands gripping his shoulders as he established a rhythm, driving you both higher and higher. Each thrust felt electric, igniting every nerve ending in your body. You could see the determination etched on his face, the way his brows furrowed in concentration mixed with pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice a mixture of awe and need.

You locked your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as you met each thrust with your own movements, eager to take him fully. Your breaths mingled, and the sounds of skin against skin filled the room, creating a symphony of passion.

Peter’s lips found yours again, and you melted into the kiss, losing yourself in him completely. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the bliss you were both creating, the connection that bound you together in this moment.

With each thrust, he drove you closer to the edge once more. You could feel the pressure building within you, the waves of pleasure crashing over you, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “Peter… I’m so close,” you gasped, feeling the familiar tension coiling within you.

“Just a little more,” he urged, his voice husky with desire as he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more desperate. “I want to feel you come for me again.”

With that, the heat inside you peaked, and you felt yourself teetering on the brink. “I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasped, your body trembling in anticipation.

“Then let go for me,” he commanded softly, his breath hot against your ear as he thrust deeply once more.

With a final push, you let yourself fall over the edge, your body shuddering as pleasure consumed you, sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you. “Peter!” You cried out, the bliss flooding your senses as you surrendered completely to the moment.

As you rode out your orgasm, you felt Peter’s rhythm falter, his body responding to your release. With a few more deep thrusts, he followed you into bliss, groaning your name as he found his release, the two of you lost in each other.

Peter collapsed on you, face buried in the crook of your neck, his warm body melting against yours as the aftershocks of pleasure coursed through you both. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed heavily, the warmth of his skin grounding you in the aftermath of your shared bliss.

After a moment, he pulled out slowly, and you couldn’t help but whimper at the sudden emptiness. The sensation lingered, a bittersweet reminder of how perfectly he had filled you just moments before. You looked over at him, still in your babydoll lingerie, and found him gazing at you with a mixture of awe and affection.

Peter discarded the condom, tossing it into the nearby trash before laying beside you, his eyes softening. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you softly. The kiss was gentle, filled with sweetness and intimacy, a stark contrast to the heat of the moment that had just passed.

You smiled against his lips, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the physical connection you had just shared. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Peter,” you replied, your heart fluttering at the tenderness in his voice.

He pulled back slightly, still holding your gaze. “I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate,” he said, a teasing grin breaking through the softness. You laughed softly, feeling giddy and cherished.

“You really know how to make me feel special,” you replied, playfully nudging him.

“You deserve it,” he said, his expression turning sincere as he brushed a stray hair behind your ear. “You’re everything to me, you know that?”

Your heart swelled at his words, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. “You too,” you said softly, leaning in to capture his lips in another tender kiss.

As you settled into the post-bliss afterglow, you felt a comforting warmth spread between you, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a soft blanket. You nestled into his side, feeling safe and loved, your heart full.

Peter wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer as you both basked in the glow of your shared affection. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, perfectly content in each other's presence.

“What do you want to do now?” He asked, his voice low and warm.

You pondered for a moment, considering the possibilities. “Maybe we could watch a movie or just stay here and cuddle?”

“We can do both,” he replied, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I like that,” with that, you both settled into a comfortable silence.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪