#AND HOLD A HERMIT CRAB!!!!

[hkpika07]

Fav sea creature from the midnight zone?

NOOOOOO THERES SO MANY COOL ONES YOU CANT MAKE ME CHOOSEEE

Some of my faves are the gulper eel, vampire squid, barreleye, blood comb jellies, the ghost shark aka the chimera shark, dumbo octopus, I think the glass octopus lives in the midnight zone. uhhhhhh theres more but i cant think rn.

Anyways the deep ocean is my favorite part of the ocean I love it its so cool and has so many cool guys. Like tripod fish those fuckers. I love them.

Go visit Monterey Bay Aquarium they have an exhibit on the deep ocean!!!

[bunnyb34r]

Happy 10th birthday Scupa! My little double digit dude! I can't believe it's already been a full fucking decade 😭

Here's to many more my silly shelled man ❤

Some Scupa fun facts:

Fav hide: The Cabana (now outgrown). The cave.

Fav activity: being a menace. Climbing.

Fav foods: SHRIMPT. Dried coconut (unsweetened. Flakes or shreds). Freeze dried strawberries. Unsweetened peanut butter. Popcorn. Calcium powder lol

Least favorite foods: anything green.

Fav toy: the wheel. The Shelf.

Species: Purple Pincher

Pokemon type: Fighting 💪

[startagainaprologue]

i think i was clever for making siffrin a weird hermit crab inspired critter in that last drawing

[teetorini]

He wouldn't look when I was trying to take a picture 😞

[why-rock-look-tasty-if-no-eat]

The bad end timeloop is that you're stuck on a car ride with your family through the Plains and no entertainment

You're stuck in a timeloop but can't tell because you're on a train going through the great plains

[kissingwookiees]

babytalking to my hermit crab like 'what a handsome crustacean' while he's got his little antennae in the air

[gothmiqote]

remember when i said my azem didn’t have any weird sleep issues i Lied that bitch sleep walks

[meowdei]

morning routine — ft. sylus

before you read: established relationships ; gender neutral reader ; sleepy clingy sylus ; banter ; fluff and cheesiness i apologize in advance

“Here we go,” you hum to yourself, rolling your eyes with a knowing smile curled loosely on your lips as soon as Sylus starts to shift in his sleep. “Like a hermit crab,” you tease to his unconscious figure, “no wonder you’re so pale. Do you even remember what the sun looks like?”

“Do you always talk to sleeping people?”

You still at the sound of his voice, hand freezing in the middle of stroking through his hair. He doesn’t like that, either—his head presses up into your fingertips, a silent demand for more.

“You should be sleeping,” you scold gently, fingers returning to their earlier movements. You scratch lightly at his scalp and he shivers, humming in content. Like a cat, you think fondly, purring in your arms at the slightest show of affection.

Your morning routine starts with the same valiant effort every day: protecting Sylus from the sun. It’s honest work: he already doesn’t sleep very much through the night, and if he doesn’t sleep through the day because of a mild setback either, you think a number of poor victims would suffer the consequences of his tired, grouchy attitude.

So, you protect him as he falls asleep while the sun rises, beams of light slipping through the cracks of the blinds a little more with every minute. You watch him—with equal parts amusement and equal parts fondness, you watch every morning as he slowly shifts in his sleep. It starts with him inching closer and closer towards you, and ends with his head buried into your chest and his body curled around you like you’re a shield for the cruel light that disturbs him.

You like this routine, though. It’s the perfect chance to admire him, to bring a hand to trace over his relaxed features—the slightly crooked slant of his nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the defined edge of his jawline. And, of course, your favorite part: the soft, plump curves of his lips. He never does anything to indicate he’s awake, either. Nothing to even hint that he feels you, breathing slow and soft puffs of air peacefully nestled against you.

He looks delicate in slumber. Vulnerable. So agonizingly soft and fragile in a way he normally doesn’t look. (Oh, but does he feel soft, you always think. Sylus always feels so inexplicably soft.)

“I would be sleeping,” he finally grumbles, but it’s playful as he shifts to hide his face deeper into your chest while his nose presses against your collarbone. “But someone disrupted my efforts.”

“No, I protect you,” you huff, “with the way you avoid the sun in your sleep, you’d think the vitamin D would poison you.”

“If it was poisonous, then I’d be dead,” he sighs dramatically, cracking a crimson eye open and looking at you like he’s wounded. “You do a terrible job at keeping me shielded.”

“Maybe I’m trying to kill you in your sleep,” you wink, “ever think of that?”

He chuckles, voice low and still laced with the evidence of sleep from the raspiness of it. You smile softly at the sound, pressing a chaste kiss to his head while he moves to bury it into the crook of your neck. There’s something oddly comforting about it—holding him like this. Holding him while he hides into your body, melts against your skin, sinks weight onto you because you take it and he can.

“Go back to sleep,” you murmur sweetly, rubbing a slow, soothing hand up and down his bare back and tracing his spine. “I’ll make sure the sun knows not to bother my big, sleepy, vitamin D deficient baby.”

“I’m not vitamin D deficient,” he huffs.

“So you agree you’re a big, sleepy baby?”

He snores dramatically, pulling a giggle from your lips. A kiss presses to the skin of your neck, and they come from a pair of lips that feel suspiciously curled—like they’re smiling. You wrap your arms around him a little tighter, because close just doesn’t feel close enough when it’s him.

“Let’s hope I wake up without being poisoned,” he hums, half-asleep once more as you trace a finger along the sharp, muscled curves of his back.

You press one more kiss to his head before murmuring, “I’ll see what I can do.”

He lets out a gentle snore again, real this time. He’s sound asleep with his body molded against yours, routine like it is every morning—you protecting him from the sun, and him falling into your arms.

I just want to hold him while he peacefully rests and hide him away from the sun so he can sleep well like he deserves because he’s a BABY

To me he’s a baby :(

[tbaluver]

Mornings With Them- The Love And DeepSpace Men

featuring ( in order ): xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb genre: fluff fluff a/n: hihi lovelies ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ this one is a little self indulgent for me to write bc ive been stressed with nursing school and it would make my day so better if i woke up next to them .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. apologies if my requests are taking a while, i will get to them when i can so thank you guys for your patience 𖹭.ᐟ anyways enjoy reading my luvs (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

the morning light slips through the blinds across the room as you both sleep peacefully, tangled together. his arm is slung loosely around your waist, his body warm against yours. his soft breaths brushes against your skin while your plushies have mysteriously ended up on the floor.

breakfast was always rare for the two of you. mornings often slipped away unnoticed, lost to many hours under the blankets. one of you would sleep in, the one being xavier,  while the other would follow suit. the other being you. it wasn’t until much later, when you finally nudged him awake with sleepy murmurs and many lazy kisses, that you’d realize how late it had become.

he holds you close, his soft hair tickles against your cheek. his breaths parts just enough to leave a gentle breeze against you.  you consider slipping away, just for a moment, but you already know how that will go.

one, he pulls you back in, a soft murmur of “don’t go,” and more often than not, you don’t even try. the warmth of him is too addicting and safe for you to leave. so you stay there, eyes fluttering shut again, letting yourself melt back into his embrace as the morning quietly slips away.

Zayne:

it’s common to wake up with your lover beside you. most mornings, his side of the bed is already cold, the blanket neatly tucked back into place and a good morning message waiting on your phone.

but on rare mornings, you’re greeted by him by your side. you’d find him sitting up beside you, sometimes with a book in hand, other times reviewing his notes with his glasses perched low on his nose as he waits for you to stir. these mornings are his favorite.

zayne almost always wakes up before you, and on mornings like this, he chooses to stay. he loves opening his eyes to find you there beside him, a quiet comfort in his chest when he knows there is no plans for him today. no deadlines. no procedures. he wishes he could experience this more often.

he watches the steady rise and fall of your breath, his gaze tracing the gentle lines of your sleeping features. before his mornings started with a simple routine. wake, shower, breakfast, run, work and now they begin with you.

the moment you begin to stir, he gently closes his book, setting it aside as he slips off his glasses before turning his full attention to you.

“good morning,” he says softly, brushing away a stray strand of hair. “did you sleep well? the weather is perfect today. maybe we can go on a morning walk to that breakfast cafe.” he smiles warmly, and it's clear that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, as long as he has you.

Rafayel:

his alarm rings, his brows and eyes furrowing in protest to keep them close as he burrows deeper into the crook of your neck, like a little hermit crab retreating into the safety of its shell.

his alarm rings, his brows furrowing in protest as he burrows deeper into the crook of your neck, like a little hermit crab retreating into the safety of its shell. without opening his eyes, he silences the alarm to snooze with one hand while the other still holds you close.

the blankets are a mess, tossed in every direction, but you’re wrapped in more of him than the covers. he shifts closer, pulling you in as if you weren’t already pressed against him enough. outside, he can hear the ocean waves lapping in the distance. a quiet sigh escapes past his lips as he begins to drift back into sleep again, content with the warmth of your body against him. everything feels perfect like this, until his phone rings again.

he groans this time, not bothering to move, just his arm stretching out to blindly search for his phone without loosening his hold on you.

“raf..we should get up,” you murmur sleepily as you rub your eyes, hearing the alarm for the fifth time already.

“no,” he hums against your neck, hair brushing your skin. he doesn’t want to move. not yet. he wasn’t ready for the day to begin. all he wanted was this. your warmth, your soft skin against his and the distant sound of the waves. it was peaceful and it was enough. at least, until his stomach let out a growl.

luckily the promise of ordering breakfast and more importantly, an offering of a shared bath with you was enough to finally coax him out of bed.

Sylus:

sylus rarely sleeps through the night. more often than not, he stays awake, quietly watching over you as you sleep. sometimes he scrolls through his phone, his free hand gently combing through your hair. other times, he finds himself gazing at you in awe. he thinks maybe luck really did find him because somehow, here you are, wrapped in his arms.

your head rests on his chest, the blankets snug around you while his arm protectively drapes over your body. the moment you stir awake, you’re always greeted with a soft smile as he sets his phone aside. he pulls you in closer, cradling your head as he presses a gentle kiss atop of it.

“how did you sleep?” he listens to everything you say, no matter how ridiculous your dreams sounded. he’ll playfully shake his head with a quiet laugh, amused. “the private chef is on the way. is there anything specific you’d like?”

sure, he’d cook for you himself but he loves how stubborn you are when you don’t want to leave just yet. his warmth, the comfort of his body against yours was enough to make you stay curled up with him for hours. so he lets you, humming softly as his fingers continue their lazy patterns in your hair.

when you’re finally ready to get up, the two of you freshen up together in the bathroom. side by side, you both go through your morning routines while he follows along with the skincare steps you’ve taught him. mornings used to feel like a drag but now it's something he looks forward to.

Caleb:

both arms are protectively wrapped around your body as he stirs awake, eyes fluttering open, a soft smile tugging at his lips. waking up with you nestled safely in his arms makes his heart flutter. just seeing you there, peaceful and safe against him, makes his heart flutter. he doesn’t mind lingering a little longer at this moment. with a content sigh, he closes his eyes again, resting his chin gently atop your head.

when he wakes up again, you’re still asleep.

a low chuckle escapes him, his breath tickling against your neck but not enough to stir you. “good morning, pipsqueak,” he whispers softly into your. still, it wasn’t enough to wake you. with a soft smile, he presses sweet, featherlight kisses to the back of your head, trailing down to your neck. and just like that, you begin to stir, slowly waking beneath his touch.

“alright alright, time to get up. i’ll make your favorite,” he murmurs, his hair tickling your skin as he nuzzles into the back of your shoulder.

mornings with caleb are always sweet and tender. he always lets you stay in bed just a bit longer, asking if you slept well and if you dreamt anything sweet. and once you’re both up, he never strays far. together you go through your morning routines together whether it was washing up, brushing teeth, or maybe helping you with your hair. in the kitchen, he takes the lead, only letting you help prepare the plates while he makes whatever you want.

as long as he starts the day with you, everything feels easier.

ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ beta read by @ilovemitsuya MWAH ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ )

ʚɞ 𝘕𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯:

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! The Love And DeepSpace Masterlist, Pg. 2

ʚɞ Others places you can find me:

Wattpad

Twitter ( but idk how to use it or interact with people )

[arkofangels]

Beach Episode Imagine

Pairing: Hank(s) x reader

Summary: The Hanks want a beach day. You want to survive it. There’s sunscreen, a sandcastle war, and one heartfelt group moment just before sunset. Mostly, there’s love.

a/n: something quick and simple for today, also I feel that im kind of legally required to write at least one fanfic before bed. also suggest more characters I should write for. (surprisingly I have one for Doug in my drafts)

It starts like most of your adventures do—with one of the Hanks bursting into the room wearing something absolutely uncalled for.

“TA-DA!” Hank 3 announces, twirling in a banana-print swim trunks, matching shades, and a sunhat that says "LIFE'S A BEACH."

You blink. “Why.”

“Because,” he says, beaming, “we’re going to the beach.”

You’re not sure how the Hanks managed to schedule, plan, and pack for a beach trip without telling you—but when you stumble into the living room, there are already seven Red Bowls full of snacks, three umbrellas, two inflatable flamingos, and one extremely detailed binder labeled “Sun Safety & Group Sand Strategy – Hank 2 Edition.”

“Did you guys… borrow my car?”

“We upgraded it with a speaker system,” Hank 1 says, sliding on driving gloves like this is Fast & Furious: Hanger Drift. “Don’t ask how.”

The second your feet hit the sand, things immediately unravel.

Hank 5 tries to befriend a seagull. Hank 4 gets in a passive-aggressive towel turf war with a six-year-old. Hank 2 sets up a shade tent that somehow collapses into a modern art installation. Hank 3 challenges you to a “sunscreen fight” and ends up smearing SPF 50 on your nose like a very flirty lifeguard. Hank 1 disappears with a boogie board and a thousand-yard stare.

And yet… you’re laughing through it.

-----------------------------

You team up with Hank 2 and 5 to build a sandcastle “so emotionally stable it should be in therapy.” Hank 1, 3, and 4 immediately declare war on it. There’s yelling. There’s betrayal. There’s a dramatic “storm surge” via cooler water. You and Hank 5 pretend to mourn your castle like fallen royalty. It ends with everyone soaked and sandy and holding hands in a peace circle while Hank 2 gives a speech about erosion.

“Nothing lasts,” he says, dramatic as ever. “But this moment? This weird, beautiful, sunscreen-slick moment? It’s ours.”

As the sky melts into orange and gold, the chaos simmers down. You all sit on towels, wrapped in oversized hoodies and still picking sand out of your shoes.

Hank 3 lays his head in your lap. Hank 2 rests against your side. Hank 4 is drawing a tiny heart in the sand with his finger. Hank 5 is feeding bits of sandwich to a hermit crab. Hank 1 just watches the horizon like he’s memorizing it.

“I’m glad we did this,” you say, voice soft from sun and joy.

“We needed it,” Hank 1 nods.

“Next time,” Hank 2 mutters, “we should bring four shade tents.”

“Next time,” Hank 3 grins, “we should rent a yacht.”

“Next time,” Hank 5 whispers, eyes wide, “we should adopt the crab.”

"We are not adopting another sentient thing ," Hank 2 groans.

The crab blinks.

Hank 3 leans toward it. "Are you... emotionally available?"

You facepalm. The hermit crab retreats into its shell.

And just like that, you're back to laughing again.

[snail-day]

Picturing the JJK men as dads on the beach!

Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

TW: Fluff, Established Relationships, It's silly if you think of Geto as a cult leader and you really don't know what he does for a living.

Gojo Satoru is definitely the playful type. Gently holds your toddler’s tiny little hand as they take their very first steps onto the beach. You, of course, are a few steps behind, recording the whole thing, his white hair blowing in the breeze, those bright blue eyes flickering back to you with the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

When your little boy finally reach the wet sand, the first chill of seawater brushes over his little toes as he squeals, cautious of the water. Satoru crouches slightly beside them, steady and so full of joy. You can hear his soft giggles and gentle reassurances, “I got you,” and “Don’t worry, daddy won’t let anything happen”, as he coaxes him forward, step by tiny step.

Each time the waves grow taller, he lets out a playful, “Wooo!” before shielding your little one with his long frame, bursting into laughter that makes your chest ache with love. “That was a big one, huh?” he grins, scooping the toddler closer. Checking them over as they spit out salt water. Helping him rub his little blue eyes that resemble his fathers. “My brave little man”

Eventually, you make your way over, camera tucked away, the salty breeze tangling in your hair. Satoru looks up the second he senses you near, and his grin only widens.

“There’s mama,” he coos, squeezing your toddler's small hand, pulling them close, before reaching for your hand, lacing your fingers with his. “C’mon, join us. The water’s not so scary.”

And just like that, the three of you stand at the edge of the sea, the water coming in cold burts, shells dazzling in the sand. When the next one crashes in, he pulls you both close, laughing loud and bright as cold water splashes up your legs.

“See?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek as your little one squeals with joy. Small little kicks in the water. “Told you I’ve got you.”

------------

Now Geto Suguru, absolutely has a schedule in mind. A bit of time at the beach, a long scenic car ride timed perfectly for the twins to nap, then dinner at a place he made reservations for weeks in advance, with a menu that includes safe foods for the kids and views that he knows you will love.

You, of course, have no clue what the schedule is. You’re just following his lead, letting him steer the day. If he’s being a little overprotective? Well, he means well.

He kneels down to carefully lather sunscreen onto the twins' cheeks, smoothing it into their soft skin with those big gentle hands. Then he sprays down their arms and legs until their glistening (hey do you want two little ones complaining about sunburns? No? Thought so), before adjusting their sun hats and leading them down the sand toward the tide pools.

“The tide’s too rough for little girls,” he murmurs, glancing back at you with playful violet eyes as if daring you to challenge him. He’d said the same thing when school season came up, murmuring something about “not just yet” and “there’s still time.” You’re starting to realize he just doesn’t want them to grow up too fast.

Once you reach the tide pools, it’s like watching a nature documentary, narrated carefully with a smooth, honeyed voice. Suguru who crouches low, sleeves rolled up, pointing to colorful sea anemones and starfish nestled in rock crevices. The occasional hermit crabs scrambling about. He gently holds the girls back with one arm as he explains how we have to be careful, how these creatures are delicate, how we should never touch unless we’re invited. He asks them questions, listens closely to their little answers, and hums in thoughtful praise when they’re right.

You take pictures from behind for his little scrapbook - your husband hunched beside his daughters, the wind tousling his dark hair, a small smile on his face as they eagerly chatter about “funny sea goos” and “squishy blobs.”

Even when the four of you walk along the shore, he’s still tuned in. He picks up every seashell they hand him and slips them into his pockets, keeping each one safe. Talking to you that he will have them do a little craft, maybe decorate a frame for your next family photo. His other hand stays laced in yours, thumb brushing your knuckle like a quiet thank-you for being here, for trusting his rhythm.

And when the twins break into a run, he calls after them, not angry, just firm. Protective.

“Hey, stay where I can see you. Don’t go too far, yeah?”

You can't blame the man for being a little overprotective. He's just trying to protect the only family he has left in the world.

------

Nanami finally got his beach house.

It wasn’t something he ever really thought he’d have, not in the way people dream of it. Certainly not with a wife he adores more than life, and definitely not with a little girl who just turned one. Both surprises. Both blessings he never knew how much he needed until they arrived, warm, loud, full of life and love.

He lounges beneath a large umbrella, reclined in a low chair on the sand with your daughter curled up sound asleep on his chest. A small paperback rests in his hand, the other gently cradling her back as he reads aloud in a quiet, steady voice. Loud enough only for himself to hear. Enough for her to feel the rumble of his chest when he speaks. The soft rise and fall of her breathing tickles his cheek where her chubby face presses into him, her tiny hand curled in the fabric of his white linen shirt.

Every so often, he glances up from the page, eyes following you as you wander the shore barefoot, collecting small shells and smooth stones. Things for her little fingers to hold, to marvel at.

Sometimes, you join him again. Both of you kneeling in the sand with your babbling baby girl perched in your lap. You and Nanami take your time building crooked little castles, digging moats and shaping towers, only to watch her gleefully slam her tiny fists into them, squealing as the grains collapse under her touch. He chuckles each time, murmuring that it’s good for her sensory development, brushing sand from her face and little hairs before beginning again.

Every now and then, Nanami looks at you.

Just looks. Like the tide has swept something open in his chest and left it raw in the most beautiful way. Sometimes he’s still trying to understand how he got here, how he gets to have this. How he deserves to have this.

There’s a softness in his gaze that lingers longer than the shell rustling in the waves. A quiet, awestruck kind of love that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud, because it’s seen in every glance, every kiss to your lips, every shell gently placed in your daughter’s hand.

He never expected this life. But god, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[cheftsunoda]

okay we need more kimi x reader because maggie just adorable and everyone needs her as a little sister

it’s maggie’s world, we just live in it ♡

blurbs

kimi antonelli x reader

moments with maggie, kimi and yn ˚.🎀༘⋆

(this one finally got edited and made it out of the drafts)

—

—

!beach time ♡ ̆̈

If I could bottle this day up and keep it in my pocket forever, I would. The sun’s starting to melt into the horizon, spilling gold across the sand like someone up there knocked over a jar of light. The salty breeze whips little strands of hair into my face, and I don't even bother to fix them because Kimi’s laughing so hard next to me that I might cry from how much I love him.

We’ve been at the beach since noon. The three of us—Kimi, me, and Maggie, who insisted we pack “a real picnic” and not “just snacks like you weirdos always bring.”

Which is why our beach blanket looks like something out of an overly curated Instagram spread- fruits cut into little flowers (Maggie’s doing), three kinds of pasta (Kimi’s mom insisted), and the world’s most uneven sandwiches (mine—I got distracted halfway through because Kimi came in shirtless and asked if we had any grapes).

Now, Kimi is half-buried in sand, demanding we make him into a mermaid. Maggie is on her knees sculpting a seashell bikini top with a significant level of dedication.

“You are moving too much! It's lopsided!” Maggie shrieks, attempting to hold Kimi still.

I sit cross-legged beside them, laughing so hard I nearly choke on the lemonade I brought down from the cooler.

“Do not disrespect the ocean princess,” I warn, leaning over to adjust the ‘tail’ we built earlier, smoothing sand into elegant curves.

“I shall send you to the depths,” Maggie says in a dramatic, royal tone. Then she pauses, completely deadpan, and asks, “Is my hair still cute, though?”

“Very royal. Extremely majestic,” I say, brushing some of the sand out of her curls.

Kimi wiggles his way out of the sand and leans over and drops a kiss to my shoulder, quick and sun-warm. Maggie immediately sprints into the shallows, kicking up water and yelling something about being Poseidon's heir. I stay on the blanket, my head tilted back just enough to feel the sun on my face and the warmth still trapped in the fabric beneath me. Kimi flops down beside me a second later, his skin warm and damp from the sea.

“Should we be worried she’s building an army of crabs to overthrow us?” he murmurs, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“She already has. I saw her whispering to a hermit crab twenty minutes ago.”

Kimi laughs again—his real laugh, the unfiltered one that starts low in his chest and shakes his whole body. I love that sound more than I’ve ever loved anything. More than I can explain, even to myself. We lie there in silence for a bit, watching Maggie kick up water and chase a seagull like it personally offended her.

“She’s obsessed with you,” he says after a while, voice soft.

I glance over. His eyes are on me, not the sea.

“She’s my favorite girl in the world,” I reply honestly. “Well, second favorite.”

Kimi’s smile turns into something quieter, something that tugs on my chest like gravity.

“My mom said earlier this week that she thinks you’re more of an Antonelli than me.”

“She’s probably not wrong. I could out-cook you and beat you at Uno.”

“Okay, first of all—rude,” he says, nudging my knee with his. “Second of all… I hope you know how much it means. You being here. Always.”

I do. I feel it every time his mom texts me before races to ask if Kimi ate. Every time his dad saves the good corner seat for me at dinner. Every time Maggie crawls into bed with me at night when I sleep over because she had a bad dream and needs “her big sister.”

I feel it now, as Kimi pulls me into his arms, our backs against the sun-warmed sand and the sea rolling in and out in the background like a lullaby. Maggie is somewhere in the water shrieking about jellyfish (I’ll go check in a minute), but for now, it’s just us. Eighteen years old. Four years together. A thousand more ahead. And all I can think, as I press my face into his shoulder and feel his hand slide into mine, is— This is home.

—

!the great jellycat hunt♡ ̆̈

It starts, as most important quests do, with Maggie kicking open Kimi's bedroom door and declaring, “Today is Jellycat Day!”

I barely look up from my phone. “Is it now?”

She nods solemnly, hugging her well-worn bunny against her chest. “I had a dream that the new one I want was calling to me. Calling, YN. Spiritually. Through the universe.”

“Did it leave a voicemail?” I tease, stretching.

“No,” she says seriously. “But I think it was pink.”

I laugh, rolling out of bed as she flops onto the mattress beside me. Her little legs kick in the air as she dramatically sprawls out, eyes wide like she’s already mentally preparing for the journey ahead. Kimi appears in the doorway a few seconds later, rubbing sleep from his eyes and already suspicious.

“Why do I feel like this is not going to be fun for me?"

“It probably won't be.” I say sweetly, tossing a his hoodie over my tank top.

“Put on your best shopping shoes, Kimi,” Maggie says, flipping onto her stomach. “The mission begins in thirty minutes.”

He groans, but twenty-nine minutes later, he’s in the driver seat of my car, sunglasses on, coffee in hand, and the deep sigh of a boyfriend and brother who knows he’s not getting out of this anytime soon.

We hit the Jellycat boutique first—one of those little shops tucked into the corner of the piazza that somehow smells like vanilla. Maggie practically sprints inside.

“Oh my God, look at the tiny shrimp!” I squeal, picking up the plushy pink prawn with little felt legs and beady eyes.

Kimi glances at it like it’s a threat. “I don’t trust it.”

Maggie, meanwhile, is holding what I think is a dragon wearing a tutu. Her face is reverent, like she just found the Holy Grail.

“Kimi,” she says, serious as ever, “feel this one’s ears.”

Kimi reaches out obediently, deadpan. “Yep. Very… ear-like.”

Maggie gasps. “You don’t respect the process.”

“It’s a stuffed animal,” he says. “I’m not supposed to.”

“Oh, you’re one of those,” I mutter dramatically, arms full of a watermelon slice, a raccoon, and something that might be a mushroom. “A Jellycat cynic.”

Maggie and I ignore him entirely as we dive into the rows, judging each plush on their cuddle-ability, aesthetic, and—most importantly—the vibe.

“Kimi,” Maggie says suddenly, holding up a tiny fuzzy croissant. “This is you.”

He looks at it. “Why?”

“Because you look like you’re done with the world, but you’re actually very soft inside.”

I absolutely lose it.

“That is so accurate,” I wheeze, almost dropping the watermelon.

Kimi just stares at both of us like he’s rethinking every decision that led to this moment. But five minutes later, I catch him gently adjusting a Jellycat octopus on the shelf like he doesn’t want it to be left out. He notices me watching and immediately frowns. “It was crooked. It bothered me.”

“Sure,” I say, smirking. “That’s all it was.”

We leave the store thirty minutes later with three new friends: Maggie’s tutu dragon, a Jellycat loaf of bread that I insisted on, and—surprisingly—an espresso cup plushie that Kimi picked up near the register.

He shrugs when I raise my eyebrow at him. “I named it. Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s so a thing,” I grin.

—

!birthday activities ♡ ̆̈

Maggie turns ten today. Double digits. A whole decade.

She told me this morning—at 6:48 a.m. exactly—that it means she’s basically “a grown woman now” and should be allowed to drink espresso, drive a Vespa, and “maybe get a tiny tattoo of a butterfly if Papa says yes.”

I told her she could have a cappuccino and one of those temporary tattoos that smells like bubblegum. She agreed, but only because it was me asking.

Truth is, Maggie’s been stuck to me like Velcro all day. She hasn’t left my side since I walked into the kitchen this morning with her favorite birthday pancakes—strawberry banana with chocolate chips shaped like a smiley face. Kimi had been yawning next to me, watching with fond, sleepy eyes while I squirted whipped cream into a heart on top.

“You know she’s going to lose it,” he murmured.

“Isn’t that the goal?”

And now, six hours later, party in full swing, Maggie’s fingers are still wrapped tightly around mine as she pulls me through a whirlwind of chaos—half a dozen kids from her class, family friends, balloons, glitter, noise, presents, the works.

“I want you with me when I open gifts,” she whispers like it’s a secret, tugging me down to the living room floor.

“You got it, birthday queen,” I say, sitting cross-legged beside her.

Kimi walks by holding two juice boxes, one of which he hands me with a tiny smile. “Surviving?”

“Barely,” I laugh. “She’s my little limpet today.”

“I know,” he says, fond and amused. “She told me you were the only one who understood her ‘birthday energy.’”

And honestly? I do. She’s buzzing like a sugar rush and a dream come true, all wrapped in sparkly tulle and butterfly clips. I sneak away only once—while Maggie’s distracted by her aunt and a new pair of glitter rollerblades—to set up her surprise in the backyard.

Kimi helps me carry it out, grinning when he sees what it is. “She’s going to explode.”

“Good. That’s what we’re going for.”

We drape a blanket over it for dramatic flair and return inside like nothing happened. I barely sit down before Maggie’s crawling back into my lap like she’s six again, holding my arm.

“I don’t want to open the last one unless you’re with me,” she says.

“The last one?” I blink, playing dumb. “I thought you opened everything already.”

“Nope.” She points to a big pink envelope sticking out of a gift bag. “That one says ‘final surprise.’”

“Ohhh,” I say, grinning. “That one.”

I help her up and lead her outside, where the sun is golden and warm over the Antonelli backyard. Kimi is already there, lounging casually on a bench like he didn’t just help me stage a full birthday miracle. The rest of the family is gathering, watching as Maggie skips across the grass with me.

“Wait,” she says, stopping in front of the blanket-covered object. “What is this?”

“Your final surprise,” I say, kneeling next to her. “Want to open it?”

Her eyes are wide. “It’s big.”

“It’s special.”

She pulls off the blanket with a little gasp—and then freezes.

Because underneath it is the miniature pastel pink Jellycat claw machine.

It’s handmade, custom, and filled with her favorite little plushies. The kind she’s dreamed about ever since we saw a video of one on Instagram months ago. I’d saved every spare bit of money and scoured the internet for someone who could build it. It even has her name on it—“MAGGIE’S KINGDOM” in sparkly letters across the top. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just… stares. And then she bursts into tears.

“Mags?” I panic, dropping to my knees again. “Are you okay?! Did I mess up—”

“No!” she sobs, throwing her arms around my neck with such force we almost both topple over. “It’s perfect! You’re perfect! I love you!”

I melt. Right there in the middle of the backyard, surrounded by balloons and streamers and ten-year-old chaos, I hold Maggie in my arms while she cries happy tears into my shoulder.

“Now you can win every Jellycat you want,” I whisper.

“You’re my favorite person,” she sniffles. “Even more than Taylor Swift.”

I gasp. “That’s serious.”

“I know.”

Kimi chuckles behind us, but even he looks a little choked up. I glance over at him as Maggie pulls away and runs to try the claw machine—her fingers already reaching for the joystick, face glowing with joy.

He mouths- You’re amazing.

I shrug, blinking back my own tears. “She’s worth it.”

And it hits me, like it always does when I look at her—that this little girl, with her messy curls and her giant heart, changed everything for me. She made me part of this family. She made me hers. And on her tenth birthday, there’s nothing I’m more proud to be.

—

date night? ♡ ̆̈

Kimi and I were supposed to have a date night. And not just any date night. The date night. You know—the kind where you shave your legs, actually do your hair, and pick the fancy perfume. The kind where he shows up at the front door with flowers even though he’s been at your side for the past four hours. I had my dress picked. Kimi even made a reservation at that dreamy little rooftop spot in Modena, the one with string lights and lemon sorbet served in tiny glass cups. And then Maggie looked up from her coloring book.

She was cross-legged on the living room rug, wearing her dinosaur pajamas and her favorite bunny slippers, completely zoned out—until she heard me say, “We’ll be back by eleven, promise.”

That’s when she froze. Looked up. Blinked.

“Wait… you’re leaving?”

Kimi paused halfway through adjusting his jacket. “Just for dinner, Mags.”

“Without me?” she asked, like we’d just announced we were moving to Mars.

My heart did that annoying ping thing it always does when she sounds a little too small.

“You’ve got Nonna and a movie night,” I reminded her gently, kneeling in front of her. “And popcorn. And candy. And ‘High School Musical’—the one with the rooftop dance you like.”

“But I wanted to do movie night with you guys,” she said, her lip wobbling. “We were gonna make the popcorn shapes! Remember?”

Kimi and I locked eyes. One of those long, wordless stares we’ve perfected over the years. It was that are we really doing this look followed by the yep, we are kind of sigh.

He pulled out his phone, tapped something, and looked back at me.

“Reservation canceled.”

I smiled. “Dress code officially downgraded to dinosaur pajamas.”

Maggie gasped. “Are you serious?!”

Kimi ruffled her curls. “You better go grab the marshmallows."

Ten minutes later, we’re all in the kitchen like a tiny culinary tornado. Maggie stands on a stool next to me, wearing an apron that says Sous Chef Supreme, dunking handfuls of popcorn into a big bowl of melted white chocolate and sprinkles.

“Are these even legal?” Kimi asks, holding up one of the finished blobs. “They look like unicorns exploded.”

“That’s the point,” Maggie says, snatching it from his hand. “They’re pop-stars. Popcorn stars.”

“You’re raising a pun goblin,” Kimi mutters to me under his breath.

“You love it,” I say, handing him a warm cookie from the oven.

He kisses my cheek in response. “Unfortunately.”

We make a blanket fort in the living room big enough for a family of five. Maggie insists we bring in her entire Jellycat army. By the time she’s done arranging them, we’re surrounded by a croissant, two bunnies, a pineapple, a toast, and one very smug espresso plush named Beanie.

The movie starts, and Kimi lets Maggie use him as a pillow while she sprawls across both our laps. I stroke her hair without even thinking, and she hums, eyes already drooping after the first musical number.

“Can’t believe we ditched lemon sorbet for this,” I whisper to Kimi, smiling.

He glances over at me, arm stretched behind my shoulders, his thumb brushing lazy circles into my skin.

“I’d trade a hundred rooftop reservations for this,” he says quietly, looking down at Maggie.

“I know,” I say. “Me too.”

We fall into a soft silence. The TV glows, Maggie breathes slow and even between us, and for a moment, everything is still. This isn’t the night we planned. It’s messier. Stickier. Slightly more chaotic. But it’s also us.

Kimi nudges me gently, whispering, “Hey.”

I turn my head. He smiles.

“We’ve got the rest of our lives for date nights.”

I lean my head on his shoulder, hand still wrapped around Maggie’s tiny one.

“Exactly.”

—

surprise? ♡ ̆̈

The thing about Kimi Antonelli is—he doesn’t ask for much. Even on race weekends, when pressure bubbles beneath every moment and tension cuts sharp behind every smile, he never demands. He’s focused. Calm. Quietly confident. The kind of person who keeps his world small, not because he doesn’t love—but because he loves so deeply that he guards it. Which is why I noticed the second he started missing them. He didn’t say anything. Of course not. He never would.

But I saw the way his eyes lingered on FaceTime calls longer than usual, how his fingers hovered over pictures Maggie drew and taped to his helmet bag, how he didn’t even joke when he walked past the empty guest paddock passes on the desk.

“They’ll come next time,” he said with a shrug last night, sitting beside me on the hotel balcony, gaze fixed on the stars.

“I know,” I’d said, squeezing his hand.

What I didn’t say was- They’re already on their way.

I spent two weeks planning this.

His mom and dad took some convincing—between his sister’s school schedule and his dad’s work—but when I told them the truth, that he missed them more than he’d admit, they didn’t hesitate.

“Anything for our boy,” his mother had said with a smile in her voice.

Maggie, naturally, was all in from the second I mentioned it.

“I’ll bring the Jellycats, but only the important ones,” she’d whispered on the phone, like it was a top-secret mission. “Tell Kimi I’m going to teleport. But don’t really tell him.”

Today, race day morning, I watch Kimi stand in the middle of the motorhome garage area, completely unaware of what’s about to happen. He’s stretching absently, one headphone in, hair slightly mussed, focus locked on his schedule like he’s trying to keep his head in the zone.

I walk over and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

He gives me a small smile. “Tired. Wish the race started already.”

“Still bummed about your parents?”

He shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “I mean, a little. But I get it. Maggie’s got school. Papà’s got that meeting. It’s fine. You’re here.”

My chest aches a little at that. Because I know exactly how much it means to him.

I glance at my watch. “Hey, will you come with me for a second?”

Kimi gives me a curious look but follows without question as I lead him out of the back garage area and into the small private team hospitality space. The early morning sunlight filters through the open doors, golden and soft.

And that’s when he hears it.

“KIMIIIIIIIIII!”

The sound is high-pitched, delighted, unmistakable. He freezes. Spins.

And Maggie barrels into view from behind the espresso bar, dressed in a mercedes shirt and wearing a sparkly pink hat with "Go Rocket Boy!" scrawled in glitter paint across the front.

Kimi stares for a second like his brain can't quite believe what he's seeing. Then he laughs—full-bodied, breathless, real—just as Maggie launches herself into his arms. He catches her easily, arms wrapping around her small frame, forehead resting against her hair.

“Maggie,” he breathes, still stunned. “What—? You’re here?”

“Duh. I teleported,” she says proudly. “With Mama and Papa.”

Kimi looks up, and sure enough, his parents are standing a few feet behind her, beaming like they’ve just won the lottery. His mom waves with a little mist in her eyes. His dad gives him a thumbs-up and says something in Italian that I don’t quite catch—but whatever it is, it makes Kimi laugh again. He turns to me next, eyes soft and warm, still holding Maggie like she’s something precious and rare.

“You did this?”

I shrug. “Well, I made the call. Maggie organized the operation.”

Maggie grins. “I’m the boss.”

Kimi sets her down gently and steps forward, pulling me into his arms before I can say another word. His hug is tight, strong, and full of something unspoken.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into my hair.

“For what?”

“For knowing,” he says. “And making it happen.”

Later, as he suits up and heads to the garage, Maggie walks beside him like a tiny bodyguard, proudly carrying his helmet in both arms.

“I’ll be on the radio in spirit,” she tells him.

“You better be,” he replies, ruffling her hair.

I watch from a few feet back, standing beside his parents, heart full. He walks toward the grid with his whole family behind him. He looks lighter. Brighter. Like someone who remembers exactly who he’s driving for.

—

[fizzie]

i drew him is familyies

no santana bc i got tired;;; i can perhaps complete the set tmrw

rq idea........ kars as a microorganism

what the fuckkkkk. teeny.

Also I’m still upset that there aren’t microorganisms of the other pillar men…leaving Kars all alone…again!!! Cruel to him!! Needlessly cruel!!

[sweetbunpura]

Riddle: Floyd, you said that all colors under the water are muted. Is that why you and Jade are muted in your true forms?

Floyd: Is Goldfishie curious about me~? Ahha~ Well-

Yuu, messing with the hermit crabs and puts one in Riddle's hand as she hold another one: Jade and Floyd are a shade of a muted teal to blend in with the ocean better so you don't see them coming in either direction. The ocean can be as stark blue as it wants to be on the surface, but if you look far out into it while underwater, you'll notice it's a sort of teal color. Hench Jade and Floyd's coloring given that they're eels and eels are ambush predators. If they were any other color but teal, they would stand out more, thus making it hard to hunt and sneak up on unsuspecting prey and people. *Leaves to give Ace a hermit crab*

Riddle: ... Interesting. Is she- *Looks at Floyd* Floyd?

Floyd, pulled his hat down to cover his very red face at the amount of infodumping Yuu just did about him and his species.

[pjomakesyourkidsgay]

. . . percy jackson

˖°𓇼 bf!percy who asks his mom for help on what to do for valentines day. bf!percy takes you to the beach even though he takes you regardless. bf!percy who takes you to montauk specifically, renting out the little cabin he and his mother used to go to. bf!percy who immediately drags you to the sea, half-pushing you into the waves in his excitement. bf!percy who controls the sea so that the waves are fun but not too big or scary for you. bf!percy who teaches you how to surf because he can control the intensity of the waves. bf!percy who hires a boat to take you to the nearby island. bf!percy who guides you to the deep-ish part to go "scuba diving", which is really just watching fish (the fish ask about you). bf!percy who asks for a favor from his dolphin friends and takes you dolphin-riding during the sunset. bf!percy who runs around in the sand and tumbles in the surf with you, laughing as you squeal at the water licking your feet. bf!percy who kisses you any chance he gets, your lips a little chapped because of the salt. bf!percy who sits with you at night, listening to the song of the sea with the stars shining above. bf!percy who brings you into the cabin, telling you stories that his mom told him when he was a kid and, in turn, listen to your own. bf!percy whose hand crawls over to yours like a hopeful crab, taking it in his grasp and caressing it softly.

"stay away from me!" you squeal, feet slapping against the wet, firm sand beneath your feet, leaving little indentations that are soon defaced by a bigger pair of footprints.

the sea water clinging to your skin is turned cool by the seaside air, making you shiver. you take deep breaths as you run across, the tinge of salt reaching your lungs as you try to get away from the boy with a hermit crab reached out in your direction.

in moana fashion the water assumes the shape of a hand, wrapping around your ankle and pulling you down. the waves cushion your fall, leaving you crawling around in the sand as percy, cackling, squats down beside you with the creature in his palm.

"arnold wants to say hi," he says, smugly. your eyes narrow in faux annoyance, but you can't help the affection swelling in you at this stupid, crooked smile and the wind tousling his hair.

"i don't want to say hi to arnold."

"aw, he's hurt!"

"he pinched my toe!"

"you stepped on him!" he snorts, thrusting his hand into your face where the blue-shelled hermit crab was, and you could feel the creature's distastful look at you.

"percy," you whine. "set me free!"

he shrugs. "well, alright, then." he sets down the crustacean to run off and relinquishes his hold on your ankle. his green eyes sparkle with amusement as he watches you push yourself up, only to widen in surprise when you run in his direction and body slam him down onto the sand.

percy's hands instinctively place themselves on your waist as the breath is knocked out of his lungs. unstopppable laughs are ripped out from him as you assault his torso with sandy punches, a huge smile on your own face as he attempts to salvage his face.

"my hair!" he complains, the black waves literred with grains of sand.

"your hair?" you demand, incredulous. "my hair!" well, sure enough, the salt in the air and water had turned it dry and crunchy.

he catches your wrists. "i like your hair." percy pulls you in, getting up, and kisses you softly.

you pull away, face scrunched up. "you're salty."

"i'm salty? you're salty!"

dividers by: @strangergraphics and @ianrkives

[leighsartworks216]

By Such A Little Taste

Sylus x fem!Reader

This got so far away from me ngl One minute you're staring at Sylus's hands while he plays the claw machine, the next you're writing 4k words about those hands

Title from "Hooked (Addicted You Might Say)" by Eleisha Eagle

NSFW, smut below the cut

Warnings: smut, fingering, cunnilingus, cumming untouched, hand/finger kink, marking, biting, kissing, teasing, dacryphilia/crying, swearing, praise kink, choking, breathplay, pet names, nipple play, embarrassment, shyness

Word Count: 4,085 (Y'ALL 😭)

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Which one do you want me to get?”

You look through the glass of the arcade machine. The attendees always make sure to keep it clean from any kids leaving sticky fingerprints on it, so every plushie is on full display. A red fox with a little wintery cape, a hermit crab with an ice cream cone on its back, and a cockatiel with bright red cheeks. You just love looking at them all.

“Do you think you can get the Cone Crab?” You point to it through the glass, without touching of course. “I don’t think I have it yet.”

Sylus smiles down at you. “Whatever you want, sweetie.”

He inserts the token smoothly, pressing it into the slot with his thumb. You cozy up to his side like you always do, holding his elbow while trying not to restrict his movements. His hand rests lazily on the joystick, fingers relaxed as he adjusts the claw. His fingers occasionally tap thoughtfully against the red top, trying to decide the best plan of attack to get the plushie you so desperately want.

Though, now that you’re here, the plushie is the last thing on your mind.

You’ve always known that Sylus has nice hands. They’re huge, easily dwarfing yours every time you hold them. Sometimes, you even hold onto just a few of his fingers or his pinky, just so your hand doesn’t get too tired. He loves it, too. He loves when you’re curled up into him, playing with his hand, comparing the sizes.

Tonight, though, those thoughts go a little bit further. You think about the way it effortlessly curled around your neck in the photobooth earlier tonight. How his fingers traced along your back when the crowd at the mall got a little too dense for your liking. The way they showed no mercy to Wanderers, yet tenderly bandaged your wounds.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when his elbow gently nudges you. “What’s on your mind, kitten?”

Your cheeks burn red hot, as if he could possibly ever know what you were just thinking about. You scoff. “Nothing.”

“Oh? Is that so?” He leans down to whisper by your ear. You can hear the satisfied smirk in his voice as he says, “Then, why aren’t you claiming the prize?”

Claiming the- Oh. You jolt away from him, blush creeping up to your ears as you reach down and push open the flap to grab the Cone Crab. You hug it to your chest and determinedly avoid meeting his eyes. You nod into the machine again. “Okay, what about a Snowy Fox? The one I have is getting a little lonely.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around your shoulder to draw you back into his side. “Of course. Try to pay attention this time, sweetie,” he purrs the pet name.

You can feel his muscles shift as he wraps his arm around your shoulders to hold the joystick once more. It’s hardly an issue with how tall he is, but you can tell he’s drawing you in closer than necessary… That being said, you don’t move. No, you just bite the inside of your cheek and stare down the claw like you have a vendetta against it.

It shifts along the top, honing in on a Snowy Fox plushie that sits off to the side. Thankfully, it’s not right up against the wall, or else he wouldn’t even have a chance of getting one without using his Evol. He hums, the sound deep and resonating within his chest right by your head, as he presses the button. The claw descends, loosely “grabs” at the fox’s head, and drops nothing but air into the chute.

Unfortunately, the proximity draws your eyes right back to his hand.

You really try not to keep staring. Really, you try. But it’s a useless attempt at best and woefully futile at worst when he chuckles, staring down at you with that knowing glimmer in his eye after he catches you staring at the prominent veins that run through his hand.

He shifts his hand back so his fingers curl sinfully around the red top as he pushes it forward to hover back over the Snowy Fox he missed just seconds ago. Your breath hitches in your throat as his lips graze the curve of your ear. “I see where your mind is tonight,” he muses.

You exhale sharply through your nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Instead of responding, he lifts his hand off the top of the joystick until just his fingers, long and practiced, trail along the front as he shifts the crane back a touch. His thumb, coming around the side, shifts it to the left.

“Remember to breathe.”

You jab your elbow into his ribs. He chuckles, standing up straight as he presses the button. The claw comes right down over the fox and finally gets a good grasp on the plushie. You watch it get carried through the air and to the chute. He releases you so you can retrieve it, clutching it to your chest with the crab.

“Would you like a turn now, sweetie?”

You narrow your eyes up at him. He’s planning something, you just know it. But it couldn’t be worse than watching his hands at work. You shove the plushies into his chest. He takes them and steps back. You definitely do not notice, at all, how both plushies fit in just one of his hands.

He slips another token into the slot, arm brushing against yours teasingly. You don’t react. The bear has been poked plenty, you don’t need to rile him up any further.

Eyes on the prize, the Golden Throat, you move the claw so it hovers just over the bird. Mephisto would surely love to play with it. (Even if playing with it meant ripping it to shreds.) The thought eases the tension in your shoulders. With a few minor adjustments, you press the button. And… nothing. The cockatiel falls over onto its side, staring forlornly up at you.

“Would you like some help, sweetie? Remember, you’ve only got one shot left.” He brings his hand around, golden token shining in the dancing lights of the machine as he slips it between his fingers. He holds it up with his thumb, pressing the coin face into the side of his index finger. It’s so small in his hands.

“No, I can do it.” You take the coin from him and jam it into the slot. Your face is scrunched up with concentration as you realign the crane.

You take a little longer than usual to line it up. A warm hand covers yours, engulfing it as his fingers curl overtop yours. “You’re so close, kitten,” he muses. The double entendre isn’t lost on you. “Just a little…” His index slides between two of your fingers, pushing them aside until it nestles at the crook. You feel your face burning again. “There.”

You push the button, too dazed to even check his work. His breath fans across the back of your neck. If the arcade was crowded today, you’re sure you would have been kicked out by now. The winning jingle sounds with a flash of lights.

“Good girl.”

And that’s what breaks you.

You practically push him away so you can grab the toy, not even taking the chance to cradle or admire it like usual. You shove it into his arm while he laughs, taking his free hand to drag him out of the mall as fast as possible.

He’s even worse in the car ride home. One of his hands is on the steering wheel, calmly turning it with just the flat of his hand around corners, or running his thumb in circles over the hardened leather all too knowingly. His other is on your thigh, between your legs, almost but not quite where you need him right now. It takes all your willpower not to guide him there yourself in the middle of traffic.

Once you’ve passed the border into the N109 Zone and he’s recklessly speeding up now that there are no laws to stop him, he squeezes the fat of your thigh. “You’re being so patient, kitten. Just a little further.”

Your sigh comes out shaky and impatient. “You’re still an asshole.”

Sylus just smirks.

You thank your lucky stars that Luke and Kieran are nowhere to be seen when you get to the mansion. The plushies all haphazardly lay on their sides in the back seat. You can’t think to feel bad for them, can’t think about anything else but the need pulsing between your legs, as you grab his hand and drag him inside.

Once you’re past the threshold, he’s lifting you up in one arm, cradling you to his chest. You squeal at the sudden shift in perspective, before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his neck. His other hand holds your thigh, fingertips digging lightly into the plump flesh, thumb stroking just under the hem of your dress. You kiss behind his ear, along his jaw, bite at his pulse. He nips at the helix of your ear playfully.

As soon as you’re in his room, you’re being laid out on the bed, his hand cradling your neck so you don’t land too harshly. His knees cage your hips as he supports himself over you with one hand. Warm lips slot over yours. His free hand slides under your dress, slowly working it up your body. His touch feels heavenly, igniting every nerve that was already burning on the way here.

The kiss is languid, remaining so no matter how much you try to deepen it. His wicked grin taunts you. “What happened to all that patience you had earlier?” he teases. You bite his lower lip. He hisses at the sting, moving down to bite just under your jaw. “Behave,” he warns. “I’ll take care of you.”

He sits up to fully remove your dress. You’re a vision that would be coveted by the Romans who would think you a goddess of the highest renown. Your chest rising and falling, already panting with desperate need. Your eyes staring into his, begging for more, more, more. Your hands reaching out to grab the hem of his red sweater. He grabs them, securing both wrists in just one of his hands to pin them above your head. He tsks with a grin.

“Not yet, darling. I need to make sure I fulfill all your fantasies from earlier, first.” Your face heats up. You have to look away, turning your head to hide your embarrassment against your arm.

He releases your hands, his own sliding down and reaching under you to undo the pretty lace bra you’d bought for yourself with his black card. He’d teased you about trying it on for him when you got back, having seen the purchase on his phone. It very quickly became one of his favorites. He drops it off the side of the bed with your dress, but leaves your panties on, even as you buck up against his hips.

“Patience, remember?”

You groan pathetically. “Please, Sy,” you beg. “Just touch me, please.”

“I was already planning on it, sweetie.”

He leans down over your body again, keeping himself up by his knees as he trails open mouth kisses along your neck. His hands mirror each other, running down the sides of your ribcage, down to your stomach and back, until they reach your breasts. His mouth seeks out your nipple, sucking, licking, savoring the soft flesh against his tongue. You gasp when his teeth nip at the hardened bud, back arching to press your chest further against his mouth.

A beautiful coating of saliva shines on your breast when he pulls away. It becomes lubricant for his thumb as he rubs slow, teasing circles along your areola, pushing his spit around like paint on a canvas before it finally brushes over your nipple. His other hand guides your neglected tit into his mouth, squeezing rough enough to leave marks as he takes his sweet time tending to you.

His red sweater rubs against your overheated bare skin. The soft fibers scrape over your stomach, tickling you and making your body flinch away on instinct. His pants are no better, acting as a solid barrier between your aching heat and the bulge pressing against you. You try to cant your hips up again, trying to get the friction you need, but his hand lets go of your breast to hold you firmly against the mattress.

Your nipple is released from his mouth with a wet pop, covered in saliva and red markings. His lips find your pulse, leaving gentler kisses over the artery. “I wonder what you were thinking about,” he muses, voice rough with lust. He can feel your heart racing against his lips. He’s tempted to bite down like the vampire from his story, but he settles for sucking a mark into the unmarred skin instead. It sends shivers down your spine and goosebumps up your arms, still staying obediently above your head. “Watching my hands… What did you picture, sweetheart?”

The thoughts come rushing in all at once. The beautifully prominent veins on his hand. The way his fingers curled around the joystick. The sinful way he teased your fingers apart while helping you…

The whimper comes utterly unbidden when his fingers trail from your hip to dance across the top of your panties. “Talk to me,” he encourages in a low purr. His fingers curl under the elastic band, slowly teasing one side off of your hip. “What were you thinking of?”

Your face is burning red hot with embarrassment and desire. You always struggle with speaking like this, when he asks you something so simple but so sinful. But you know that he’ll reward you so nicely if you speak up. It’s a dangerous motivator sometimes. “A-At the photobooth, when you wrapped your hand around my neck,” you stutter out.

His eyebrow quirks up with a smirk to match. “Do you like having my hand around your throat, sweetheart?” He lifts his head from your neck, watching as his hand trails from your panties, along your body, over your collarbones to your neck. The way your body twitches with every light brush is addicting. “Do you like knowing…” His palm rests over your trachea, fingers curling around the sides of your neck. “... just how easy it would be for me to… choke you?” He squeezes his fingers lightly for emphasis. He feels when you swallow, throat bobbing against his palm.

You nod slightly, biting your lip to fight back the noises he so easily draws from you. Even still, small whimpers emanate from your throat.

His index finger shifts up to rest along your jaw. He turns your head to the side slightly, taking notice of how your eyes flutter shut under his control.

“Oh, does this kitten like to be controlled? Should I get her a lovely little collar?”

The thought alone draws a mewling whine from deep within you. He chuckles, tilting your head back in place with his thumb as he leans down to capture your mouth. He pulls your lip from your teeth, sucking on it until it's beautifully swollen before he kisses you properly. His tongue delves into you, licking into your pliant mouth with deceptive sweetness as he tightens his hold again. He growls when he hears the hitch in your breath.

“Good girl,” he whispers, releasing the pressure and rubbing his fingers soothingly along the sides of your neck. “What else were you thinking of, hm?”

His red eyes bore into you so calmly, so naturally. It’s hard to keep looking at him, especially as you fight to answer his question. “How big they are,” you admit.

He smiles. It’s such an innocent remark. He knows how big they are compared to yours, how much you love laying your hand over his just to remind yourself. He leaves his hand on your throat, raising the other one to brush his knuckles along your arm as he seeks out your hand. You curl your fingers between his almost instantly, holding onto him like a lifeline. He turns them over to bring your hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles tenderly. “What else?”

You whine, closing your eyes to hide from his stare. “Please don’t make me say it,” you beg.

“Why not?” You don’t answer his question. “Hmm. Shall I guess, then?”

He disentangles from your hand after one last kiss, bringing it to rest in his hair. You dig your hand into the soft locks immediately, like it’s second nature. He kisses your lips softly. The feeling lingers even as he trails kisses down your body once again. Down your neck, over your sternum, taking one detour to bite at your tits. His hand follows in his wake, massaging and caressing your skin.

He shifts to be kneeling between your legs, resting them over his thighs as he reaches your navel. His hand passes him, however, pulling your panties down your other hip. “Am I warm?” His hot breath fans over your stomach, making you shiver. His lips brush sinfully over the edge of the elastic band. His eyes meet yours again.

You nod. His thumb caresses your jaw, a silent praise for answering him. You lift your hips experimentally, worried he’ll push them down again, but his hand slips under you instead, dragging down the fabric over your ass. As more skin is revealed, his kisses get lower. You tug at his hair, trying to push him closer. “Sy, please…”

He hums, tilting his head to rest his cheek against your hip. “Hm? What is it, sweetheart? Do you feel like telling me what you were thinking of now?”

You halfheartedly glare at him. “You’re such a bastard.”

He chuckles. “I know.”

His hand glides smoothly over your ass, fingers guiding your panties further down your thighs. Before you can be fully uncovered, he leans down between your legs to kiss your cunt through the soaked fabric of your panties. You gasp sharply, opening wider for him. He makes sure you’re watching when he gathers the material in his teeth and drags them down. You hope you never forget that sight.

He sits back to remove the final piece of your attire, slipping off your heels in the process. You wish you could sit up and tear his clothes off of him, throw them to the side with reckless abandon to expose his body to you. That thought is immediately gone the second you feel his fingers finally dragging through your folds. Just like he mimicked at the arcade to your fingers, he parts your lips until he finds your clitorus.

“You’re so beautiful,” he hums, the rough edges to his voice softening. He kisses your thighs as he gathers up your slick on two of his fingers, groaning at how absolutely soaked you are. “So fucking gorgeous.”

He raises his coated fingers to your lips. You suck on them without question, moaning around them as you taste yourself, as you lick up every drop he gathered until all that remains is your saliva. He presses down on your tongue, choking you gently at the same time until you gag. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, soothing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Good girl. Such a good fucking girl.”

Your scent fills his senses. All he can think about is how good you must taste, how you’d feel clenching around his fingers and tongue as he ravages you, your heady scent consuming his every coherent thought until he’s utterly drunk on your cum.

He can’t wait any longer.

His hands slide down your body to grasp your thighs, spreading them wider, guiding your calves over his shoulders as he dives in like he’s starving on death row and you’re his last meal. He moans as he licks a stripe up your cunt, swallowing everything you can give him and seeking more. His fingers create divots in your skin as they press down, promising bruises as they tug you closer and closer, until your head is barely on the pillows anymore.

You cry out his name through moans and gasps. Both of your hands tangle in his hair, keeping him firmly against you. He nudges his nose against your clit. Your hips jerk to ride his face and he nearly lets you. Any other night, he would have loved to flip you over so you could sit on his face, use him, ride him, until he’s suffocating in all of you. Tonight, though, he pulls his mouth from your weeping hole to suck on your clit.

It’s intense. It’s overwhelming. You’re torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer, begging him mindlessly, though you don’t know what for. One of his hands releases your thigh to take over where he left off. One long finger pushes slowly into you, easily accepted with how fucking wet you are, dripping slick down his hand. It fucks into you, curling to rub at your g-spot with a professional expertise. His second finger slides in just as easily, creating a steady rhythm that draws you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Tears slip down your cheeks, so fucking lost to the intensity of his attention to your clit. You’re so fucking close already. Air gets caught in your throat, forcing its way out through ragged moans. You can’t even get the words out to warn him. That swell of pressure builds in your abdomen too fast. Your cunt clenches harshly around his fingers, trying to draw them in deeper. Sylus’s eyes watch your face in a half-lidded haze, desperate to catch the exact moment you come undone for him.

Your thighs squeeze his head as your orgasm snaps inside you. Your head is thrown back against the pillows, fingers in a death grip in Sylus’s hair as your cum gushes out of you. He eases up on your clit when you tremble, shaking your head without conscious thought as it becomes too much. His fingers gently ease you through the afterwaves, hand drenched in your delicious slick. When your hands and your thighs relax, he pulls away.

You blearily open your eyes to watch him clean his hand with his tongue. It curls around his fingers, slides up his wrist and forearm to ensure he doesn’t lose a single drop; licks his lips as he pants for air. His eyes flicker to your cunt. Your walls clench around nothing. Your clit is swollen and sensitive to all hell. As much as he would love to go back in, clean you up with his tongue alone, he resists.

He gently lowers your legs from his shoulders, massaging your thighs to ease the lingering tension from them as he leans down to kiss you softly, sweetly. All you can taste is yourself on his lips. You comb your fingers through his hair, carefully trying to make up for any pain you may have caused. He sighs into your mouth, completely relaxed with your touch.

It’s you who pulls away first, tilting your chin up to get him to let up. He trails his kisses along your cheek instead. “You still haven’t been taken care of,” you point out.

He chuckles airily. “I assure you, I’ve been well taken care of.” You turn your head so he sees your look of confusion. He sighs as he sits back up. Sure enough, there’s a wet spot on the front of his pants that is definitely not from you. Your face burns as you look up at him.

“I… You came just from eating me out?” you gape in disbelief.

His cheeks are pink, too, despite the way he playfully shakes his head. “Don’t let it inflate your ego too much, sweetheart.”

You watch as he gets off the bed to go to the ensuite bathroom. It’s not hard to tell it’s uncomfortable being in his soiled pants, but he gets a wet cloth to take care of you first. You lay back, grinning like an idiot as he tends to the mess you’ve made. “I’m flattered.”

“Leave it alone, kitten.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll spend the rest of the night finding every single way I can make you cum without touching you.”

“...”

“... Promise?”

---

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