#Brush Type 4

[rocceater]

love it when people draw aus differently so some ideas for art styles and designs

ink belongs to comyet fresh belongs to loverofpiggies dream + nightmare belong to joku-blog

[supertrainstationh]

About To Leave For Plymouth (Michael McNicholas) by Neil Harvey 156 Via Flickr: 47658 is about to leave Penzance with 2C83 12:00 Penzance to Plymouth. 21/4/87.

[emilylsart]

That Matthew Patel guy sure is EEEEEEEVIL!

A redraw of one of Bryan Lee O'Malley's sketches from a stream that he did the other day!

I was really excited to redraw this one because Matthew's still my favorite evil ex out there in the Scott Pilgrim series lol

(Reblogs > Likes!! Likes also appreciated.)

[uss-sonder]

Portrait I made of Saharin Exlar.

[empyreanmirror]

OK I have to know what program or brushes you use?? Whenever I try to paint digitally the edges look too soft if that makes sense??

Hello! i've a fair idea of what style specifically you mean, but let me know if I didnt cover what you're asking about!

I mainly use Clip Studio Paint (Pro 1.0?), on the side I use Rebelle 7 Pro. Rebelle is for the traditional looking stuff I occasionally do, and everything i used for that comes with the programme. If what youre looking at is traditional-mimicking, its that! Other than that, probably CSP youre here for so... for that:

Main brushes? I use a collection of Daub brushes! Pretty much exclusively this brush... like... outside my sketch brush I basically only use this one:

Rectangular, textured. This is how it came Im pretty sure, but just showing you the shape and stuff because the shape i find is key in cutting lines into paintings. I dont remember which daub pack its in, but I can try and figure it out if you want it!

You can see it here in these pieces, it gives that fuzzy frayed end to things. That's genuinely fine? I find it's good for making sure shadows and edges aren't too defined without giving the very artificial digital art feeling airbrushes give, like as an example I dont really notice it in this piece at full size but it's very distracting zoomed in:

I just. am not liking it personally, which... I tell you to let you know I actually kinda struggle to get it to work the job I want it to and ive been looking to replace it. Used it for years, but it has flaws. It's been decent for my recent couple years break from serious art because its loose and gets the job done, but its kinda tough to work with (as any traditional-mimicking brush would be)

I've recently started using it edited a little to get rid of the fuzzy texture, which really just involved taking away the texture in settings. Theres some places on the arms here where i was using the textured version, and... yeah this is roughly rendered bc it was a quick piece but you get the idea:

I find it really helpful because it has an edge - it can paint proper lines - but then can be smoothed

Rough textured vs untextured, and heres.. where you can see it falls apart for what i do. That was solid black I was painting on the grey and i was pushing hard (more so going over and over it), textured version's way better for painting and blending but texture gets in the way, uh, trade off

It's definitely... not actually ideal for my art, I can say that much. i took a detour into using this brush exclusively after losing my last muse, it's definitely.... how do i word this. its not good at laying down colours and blending - Ive been hoping i can even that out in settings so maybe if you grab it you can iron that out but. Thats what I use!

It's probably more helpful to tell you what works? Uh. given that the brush i use I struggle against so

For things getting back to the style I used before - which. unfortunately i dont think i have current (relatively) sfw examples, so time to dig up the literal at the time old style art.... - for example in this:

deviantarts quality is fucking abysmal holy shit. This is kinda... What my personal style is, which is blending stark lines and colours, juxtaposing textures and stuff. To do that? I recommend having two brushes, something like what I just showed you and then something like Clip Studio Paint's default watercolour brushes. Theyre like airbrushes blended with paint brushes

I also then go over things with my pen tool, which is my own brush. I dont know if i can properly share it in any capacity because I cant remember where I got the textures from, but you know, under the table passed along, its here, its meant to mimic how i draw with pens on paper (light and almost invisible if you go light and fast, proper linework if you slow down and purposely draw)

You can see the whole entourage (Daub brush, watercolour brushes, pen brushes, if watercolours were even used) here:

Didnt circle everything that was pen because Im sure you get the idea. Its basically just... that brush to paint, waters if i need to smooth something extra smooth, and then anything that needs contrast and oomf gets added in pen, if your brushes cant provide edges its probably best to mix them up, use your soft brush for blending, a harder painting brush for laying down colours and loose blending.

Something that lays down paints with an edge - I really do recommend a non-round brush head, and something built for painting - and then something to smooth it out.... honestly ideally thatd be the exact same brush, thats a key i used to like with the Daub square brush is that i could paint and blend with it, I think I maybe manipulated the settings too much and took it way too far out of what it was or something because i swear it used to be easier to work with but. whatever the issue is its never been ideal, honestly for a brush id say seek out something that: Is square/rectangular (probably rectangular is best); lays down paint without too much pressure on your wrist and blends smoothly so you're laying paint and blending in the same stroke; puts down colour when you're pressing down over a certain percentage of its pressure limit and then only blends when you're pressing under that percentage. CSP lets you do this. Best brush experiences Ive had ticked all of those boxes

uh. if youre shopping around (buying or getting for free) you dont need to look for the "paints over x blends under y" because in CSP and other programmes (do check) you can add that in yourself, but yeah Id suggest some kind of shaped brush that isnt shy with paint to combat the soft edges!

[kayvsworld]

i keep trying to use new brushes and Branch Out and Vary Up The Art Situation but i CANT. i am fucking incapable. i am locked into using this dumb brush i made out of a rectangle at 4am like 5 years ago i simply do not enjoy using anything else

[girlwithrituals]

GLOW UP GUIDE FOR 2025⠀

READ: On average, it takes more than 2 months before a new behavior becomes automatic — 66 days to be exact. And considering that 2025 is precisely these many days away, why not start with our glow up plan already?

Physical Glow Up-

BODY

— 5-10K steps a day.

— 7-8 hours of sleep.

— workout everyday for 1 hr atleast- yoga/stretching/pilates/cardio/lifting weights. a workout may take one hour, but your mood will be boosted for the next 12 hours.

— posture training.

— sunlight exposure after waking up for at least 10 minutes.

NUTRITION

— 2-3 liters of water every day.

— limit your caffeine intake.

— avoid sugars as much as you can.

— high protein diet, pre and probiotics.

— more fruits and veggies (+ green smoothies if you like).

— no junk/processed food/trans fat.

— no eating after 8 pm.

SKINCARE

— be clear on your skin type (oily, dry, combination, sensitive).

— once you're clear, use these accordingly- cleanser, toner, targeted serum, eye cream, moisturizer, sunscreen (≥50 spf).

— keep your bedding clean as well.

— no picking of skin on your lips, cuticle etc.

— gua sha to help improve blood circulation and lessen toxins.

— cold therapy may take three to five minutes of being uncomfortable, but your energy levels will be boosted for the rest of the day.

— remove makeup before you go to bed.

BODY CARE

— shower every day.

— exfoliate 2x a week.

— use body lotion (shea butter/aloe vera gel/coconut oil).

HAIR CARE

— wash hair 2-3x a week

— oil your scalp 2x a week, at least 3 hours before shampoo.

— hair mask 1x per week.

— never brush wet hair.

— use silk pillow case.

HYGIENE

— brush your teeth 2x a day, clean tongue and the roof of the mouth daily.

— floss daily.

— cut your nails 1x a week, never remove the cuticles.

— glycolic acid under arm for odor and discoloration.

— never use soap on your coochie.

Mental Glow Up-

MINDSET

— set clear goals- define and breakdown your aspirations.

— start your mornings with positive affirmations.

— surround yourself with uplifting content and people.

— be shamelessly selfish to your career and mental health, remove anyone or anything that doesn't align with your priorities and wellbeing.

— boost your brain health by these 4 neuroscience tools:

difficult first: start your day with the most difficult task (cortisol and dopamine are high in the body meaning that your body/mind is primed to work).

rest your eyes: introduce a micro-pause after learning by resting/closing your eyes - will help retain information better.

tomorrow's worries: write tomorrow's to-do list before bed as it is proven to be effective in helping you fall asleep.

find time to play: engage in low-stake play. can be anything you find fun but where the outcome doesn't matter (induces neuroplasticity + reduces stress).

MIND

— meditation might take as low as ten minutes, but your focus will be improved for the rest of the day.

— no social media after waking up and at least an hour before bed.

— keep aside 1 hr of time to read daily! reading a new book may take five hours, but you will keep the knowledge forever.

— journaling, gratitude.

— digital detox once a week or for 12 hours.

— limit unnecessary screentime, unfollow or cut off people you don't want to see.

JOURNALING

— choose a regular time each day to journal, making it a part of your routine.

— find a quiet, comfortable place free from distractions. light a candle if you want.

— allow your thoughts to flow without censoring or editing.

— write about your feelings and emotions to understand them better. write about things you are thankful for to boost your mood. write about your short-term and long-term goals. identify what triggers certain emotions or reactions

— set a timer for 5-10 minutes and write continuously during that time.

— reflect on both positive experiences and challenges.

— make lists, journal your thoughts on these questions.

— journal at night to clear your mind before bedtime, because emotions and thoughts lose their power once we acknowledge them.

— a gratitude practice may take five minutes, but your mindset will be shifted for the rest of the day.

AFFIRMATIONS

— customise affirmations to your needs.

Personal Life-

WEEKLY TASKS

— initiate small changes: begin with small, manageable tasks such as making your bed or cleaning your room every sunday.

— celebrate your success: reward yourself when you achieve your goals or have a consistently productive week. consider treats like buying flowers for yourself or watching your favorite show.

DAILY WORK

— set achievable goals: establish realistic goals for the day, week, or month ahead.

— track your progress.

— organise your work space, declutter your shelves etc.

— embrace the power of lists: keep a list of tasks to be done and their deadlines. this way, you start each day with a clear plan. to make it visually appealing and motivating, consider using productivity apps like evernote, habit tracker, or notion.

PRODUCTIVITY TIPS

— wake up early.

— plan ahead everything, do scheduling. you can use:

google calendar / notion / tasks .

— if the task takes less than 2 minutes to finish, do it immediately.

— countdown rule, if you are procrastinating, count 1-2-3-4-5 and jump.

— start slow, don't rush and try to do everything at one time.

— follow a proper routine, use app locks based on screentime.

— pomodoro technique, 25 min work, and 5 min break.

— schedule longer break times as well e.g 30 min nap.

[bigender-cowboy]

I HATE DOCTORS WHYYYYY NO NO NO GUYS WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS YOU’RE QUITE LITERALLY PAID TO MAKE SURE IM OKAY WHYYY

[buckyalpine]

I LOVE what you wrote for the other ideas!!

This is kind of a dialogue prompt

Reader says something like, "do you know how many times I've imagined you fucking me on this desk?"

Maybe she's sitting on Bucky's lap while she works on a mission report or something for the team. Since Bucky hasn't seen reader in a bit, he is being needy and handsy trying to distract her. (Cue cockwarming?)

Eventually, reader slams the laptop shut and puts it away before she says that line. Bucky just like

Sweeps EVERYTHING off desk

(I'm so sorry for the long ask) much love❤️❤️

Not me answering this 2 years later but I'm weaaaak for the lip bite and this idea, immediate yes (and by immediate I mean I know I took forever, I'm so sorry, also I love you)

-

"I missed you so much baby" Bucky purred in your ear, hoisting you up by your hips to wrap your legs around his waist as soon as you stepped off the jet. You'd been gone for over a month in those 4 weeks, Bucky had been nothing but a pouty puppy, waiting for you to come back. None of the missions he went on were enough of a distraction, all he wanted was his perfect angel back in his arms and he finally had you.

"Missed you too, bub" You giggled at his scruffy beard tickling your neck as he nuzzled into your skin, carrying you off for some much needed cuddles. "I already showered and changed but I just have to finish my mission report and then I'm all yours"

You pecked the frown that made its way to his face, your thumb brushing over the crease between his brows.

"But I haven't seen you in so long" Bucky mumbled, reluctantly detouring away from your shared bedroom, taking you to the conference room instead.

"I promise I'll be quick-Bucky what are you-" You squeaked as you felt his cool arm effortlessly wrap around your waist, lifting you up so he could sit in the chair instead, plopping you onto his lap.

"I'll be patient" Bucky gave you an innocent shrug, not willing to wait for you to finish so he could spend time with you. You giggled at his clinginess, opening your laptop and pulling up the file you had to fill out; of course his patience lasts all of 10 seconds before his hands slowly slip under your shirt.

"Bucky, what are you doing"

"Nooothin'" he ignored the pointed look you gave him over your shoulder while he started to needily paw at your hips, slowly making his way up to your waist, caressing your skin. "Just feelin' you"

"I can see that" you shook your head, returning to your report, trying desperately to recall various details while your boyfriends hands continued to wander around. You could barely type out a sentence, squeaking when his cool metal fingers brushed near the top of your breast, tracing along the outline of your bra.

"Bucky"

"Y/n"

"You're distracting me"

"No, You're distracting me" He countered with another shrug, adjusting his hips, the movement causing you to shift right onto his-

"Bucky!"

"What" He gave you an innocent pout as if his thick erection wasn't about to pop out of his jeans.

"Your not so little friend there is about to stab my ass" You snoted, ignoring the way his hard length pressed against you made your stomach flip.

"Help him out then" Bucky smirked with a raise of his brow, "C'mon, it'll help me keep my hands to myself if he gets some attention"

"Bucky-

"Please baby, I promise I'll behave, just let me put it in you, I won't move, no more distractions, scouts honor"

"You're a little shit" You rolled your eyes, biting back a smirk as you got up to pull down your sweats while Bucky unbuttoned his jeans, pulling his cock out. He groaned as he swiped his thick cockhead through your folds, your slick already making a mess between your thighs.

"Looks like I wasn't the only distracted on, huh" He whispered against the shell of your head as he pressed inside, the both of you gasping at the feeling of him stretching you. He was careful to lower you slowly, inching his way until you were perfectly seated on his lap and entirely full of him. "Mpph, fuck you feel good baby, keep me nice and warm, that's it" He nipped on your earlobe while you took a moment to recompose, your tight walls fluttering against his shaft.

"I-have to finish this-" Your voice melted off into a moan, how were you going to get anything done, it had been so long since you'd felt your boyfriends fat cock absolutely rail you, making you cum and squirt till you nearly passed out, his length fucking your brains out until he was ready to fill you, his moans and grunts all just for you while his cock exploded with thick streams of cum that would drip out-

"You won't get anything done if you keep grinding on me princess" Bucky's strained, teasing voice broke you from your train of thought, not even realizing you'd been pushing your hips further back on him, trying to feel more. "You sure you gotta finish this right now?"

"Y-yes" You tried to fill out the next section, your eyes rolling back instead when Bucky adjusted himself, pushing himself till his tip kissed your cervix.

"You sure baby, I can make you feel really good"

"I-

"It's been so long angel, I need you, fuck, need you so bad" The neediness of his voice only set you off further, a gush of your arousal pooling out of you, getting the patch of curls at the base of his cock messy. It certainly wasn't missed by Bucky, his hands holding onto your hips so he could gently thrust his hips up just enough for you to feel the slightest movement. "Please baby, m'so hard, balls are fuckin' full, swear my cock's ready to burst there's so much cum for you-

All it took was you shutting your laptop for Bucky to swipe his arm and clear the table of its contents, bending you over the table while he was still deep inside you.

"Fuck, I needed this!" He growled, grabbing you hips and setting a brutal pace without warning, his head thrown back, the sounds of skin slapping on skin mixing with your moans.

"OH-FUCK-J-AMIE" You squealed feeling Bucky angle his hips to hit a spot that made a mess everywhere, your juices dripping onto his jeans, the material turning darker making him fuck you harder.

"That's it baby, make a mess on me, make a mess on my cock, give me what I've been missing so fuckin' bad"

You were nothing more than a babbling mess letting Bucky take what he needed, your legs nearly buckling from pleasure.

"Wanna see you" He pulled out and handled you with ease as he picked you up and placed you onto the table, throwing your pants off and tossing your legs over his shoulders. He didn't waste any time as he slipped in again, the both of you moaning and he started to move again, your tummy bulging each time he fucked into you. "Missed you so much angel, fuck you have no idea"

"Missed you-t-too" You hiccuped from a mixture of emotion and your building orgasm, a mix of everything making your vision blur with white spots and tears. "Missed you so much, Bucky"

"Cum for me angel, I want it, wanna feel my angel cum on my cock, please-" Bucky's pace stuttered as his cock squirted precum, his balls growing heavy, struggling to hold on, "m'gonna cum, can't hold it baby, give it to me"

"I-I-OH FUCK" You let out a silent scream as Bucky slipped his hand between your bodies, his thumb pressed onto your clit rubbing gentle circles. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm, his own ready to shoot from the base of his cock, the tip already dribbling-

"Good girl, good fuckin' girl, so pretty when you cum for me baby, fuck me I won't last, shit-I-FUCKK" The first burst of cum flooded and painted your walls, his cock throbbing so hard it nearly sent you into a second climax, "Hng, it's so much, mmph"

Bucky clung onto you with his face buried into your neck, shuddering as his body shook from the waves of his orgasm. He held onto you, keeping you wrapped up as he sat back on the chair, his lips pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you"

"I love you too but I need to finish" You sleepily mumbled while Bucky shook his head, carrying you off for some much needed proper cuddles.

"You can finish later after we get some dinner in you and two more orgasms and a nice long shower, maybe a massage and THEN you can-"

"You filthy animals" Tony's voice cut through Bucky's list as he stood at the conference door with an amused smirk on his face.

"Oh my god" You kept your face buried in Bucky's neck, the oversized shirt you were wearing covering up what was going on but there was no mistaking what happened with Bucky's jeans around his ankles.

"Couldn't wait 10 minutes, huh"

"Would you?" Bucky didn't even bother arguing back, raising his brow with a smug smile.

"Can't argue with that" Tony nodded with approval, walking off while Bucky cackled without an ounce of shame.

"You little shit" You stayed pressed against his neck, while Bucky carried you off to your shared bedroom, plopping you onto the bed.

"Now about those two orgasms-"

[shrimpybbq]

season 4 pt1 with rafe, high school gf and their son!

rafe and high school gf who spread his dad’s ashes together. they’re on rafe’s boat together as he spreads the ashes, her arms wrapped around his waist comfortingly. he wouldn’t want anyone else to be with him for this moment

rafe is pretty content with hiring a babysitter to look after the kids when he wants to spend some time alone with his girl, and when he decides to compete at the enduro, he deems the day kid-free. no one would think the couple had two kids and a house together as they stood together on the beach, her hands brushing tenderly against the nape of rafe’s neck as he sat on his bike.

“You’ve got this baby, you know that? It’ll be a piece of cake,” she said, her voice quiet. This was a moment between the two of them, and no one else needed to hear. Rafe still disliked sharing intimate moments in public brazenly, but he still needed reassurance and love.

He nodded, bringing her closer to him as he placed a quick kiss against her lips. “I’m gonna win this for you, baby.”

rafe absolutely adores when he gets to bring his smokin’ hot wife out with him to the events on figure 8. he loves to let his girl get dressed up and all pretty (for him), knowing she sometimes felt frumpy after looking after their kids all day. they’re at the club when rafe starts yelling at a random girl, enraged by her comment about his dad. his wife now having to drag him away with the help of topper, her hands soothing over his chest to try and distract him. it had been really hard for him since his dad died, and he swore he’d only survived bc of his wife and kids.

the couple are at the club they frequent together when hollis speaks to rafe, who after their conversation was no longer paying attention to the older woman, instead focusing on the girl he suddenly tucked under his arm

“And who is this?”

“This is my wife,” Rafe said with a smirk, his arm wrapping around his girls shoulders, placing a quick kiss to the top of her head. At that, the older woman’s smile dropped minutely, quickly excusing herself.

“Who was she, baby?” His wife asked, watching as Rafe turned the business card over in his hand.

“Uhh.. the biggest realtor/cougar on the island.”

“Oh ok, sounds like just your type, huh?”

“Baby, nonono, why would I want a cougar when I have the hottest milf standing in front of me?”

Rafe shielded himself from her playful swats as she came closer, his arms wrapping around his wife’s frame easily and lifting her off the ground.

“Come on baby, you know you’re the only one I want.”

rafe talks about his business deals with his wife often, her lounging on the pool chair as he vents his frustrations. he felt she was the only person he could tell everything to, and she would provide him with advice and solutions that actually helped, not just telling him what he wanted to hear

their son is resting on the other pool chair, exhausted after playing in the pool for hours with his mother and father, whilst their daughter rested on her mother’s chest, sleeping after being fed

rafe feels all of his frustrations slip away when he’s with his children - their innocence and happiness making him feel much lighter

girl dad rafe! he loves charlie but there’s something about his little girl who looks so much like her mother, who adores him and always outstretches her chubby little fingers towards him, that makes rafe’s heart melt

he spoils his little girl more than he should, buying her all the little dresses and shoes and accessories a baby could ever need

rafe who asks his wife to teach him to braid so he can practice for when she’s older!!!!!

girl dad rafe training charlie to be protective over his sister and make sure he’s always by her side

rafe had been addicted to coke, and while he’d managed to give it up, he had replaced the coke with alcohol. high school gf notices and does her best to reduce his intake, but truthfully, after seeing how difficult is was for rafe to stop the coke, she knew that this was probably the best she would get for a while. still, he doesn’t escape without a raised eyebrow when he goes to get another drink from the fridge

topper who knows never to talk bad about rafe’s girl - EVER. he made that mistake once and lived to regret it, having to lie to his parents that he fell from his bike. topper actually likes her now, and he gave himself the title of uncle topper to the cameron kids

as a husband, rafe is so handsy in public. he doesn’t care what people think about him anymore, so he lets himself squeeze and touch as much as he wants

beach time bby! i feel like honestly, rafe doesn’t like bringing his kids around the drunken kooks. they’re rowdy and rude, and rafe is trying to be better

so instead, he loves to take the family down to their private stretch of beach adjacent to the house, and relax and play with the kids. it’s so peaceful to him, and he truly feels content with his life in those moments. he’s got his hot as shit wife in a little bikini with their daughter tucked in her side, and little charlie is climbing all over rafe as he tries to get his father to throw him in the water again

oh he 100% helps his wife pick out her bikini that day, tying the tie for her, his hands roaming a little too much as she giggles in front of him

she had told him once that she felt insecure after having their children, her body a little different than it used to be. truth be told, rafe loved it. every time he looked at her body naked, fucked her or held her in his arms, he was reminded that she brought their children into the world. she gave him purpose and love

(he also likes that her tits are bigger from breastfeeding and loves to squeeze them whenever he can)

rafe is such a good dad bc he puts everything he has into being there for his children. they’re his entire world and everyone can see it

still, he needs frequent reassurance that he is nothing like the father his dad was, instead, he cares and nurtures his children

rafe discusses his plans to make amends with sarah with his wife, and she gives him strategies to try and talk to her (not that he tends to take them), but she also misses sarah

charlie who still asks for his aunty every now and then, making his mothers heart break. sarah hasn’t even met their daughter yet :(

when he makes the decision to do the deal with hollis, he does it for his family. he wants to look after them, and this deal would do that for them.

but when she hits on him, sensually touching his hand, he makes his priorities clear to the woman as he scoffs, pulling away from her

“I’m married…. And you know that - you even met her. I’m doing this deal for her, and for our family, so….”

rafe has problems but that man is so loyal, he actually couldn’t ever imagine wanting anyone else. he fought so hard and went through so much to keep his high school gf by his side and now he feels that she is the only person in the world who understands him fully. in his mind, it’s them against the world

click here for pre-season 1 rafe, gf & their unborn son

click here for season 1 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 2 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 3 rafe, gf & their son

click here for the 18 month gap before season 4 rafe, gf & their son

[yjhzies]

“Come back, please.” — JWW

⸝⸝୭ ˚. fluff . est relation . cute

⋆ pairings : wonwoo x gn!reader ⋆ warning : none! (I hope so) ⋆ wc : 0.6k [✉️] · Your bf claims to have missed you alot, not wanting you to leave his side.

⋆ - note : UGH I love the thought of a clingy Wonwoo 😽😽 he would be so pookie coded | tysm @arkynz 4 the req!! <3

You were up a lot earlier than usual, and didn't want to wake Wonwoo up because he had just come back from a tour yesterday. So you decided to visit the corner shop that newly opened nearby your shared apartment. The advertisements were pretty good and you wanted to check it out yourself.

Just as you were looking at what to buy, the phone in your hand rang with a notification - Wonwoo texted you. You weren't expecting him to be awake so early, especially after he kept mumbling how exhausted he was while resting in your embrace yesterday.

[Today · 8:23 AM]

Wonuu 🎀 : where did you go

Wonuu 🎀 : you're not here?

You smiled, sliding your fingers on the keyboard, typing a response.

You : I'm out in the corner shop baby

You : I thought you'd sleep in today

Your phone rang again - he immediately replied.

Wonuu 🎀 : come back

Wonuu 🎀 : please :(

Just when you were about to reply, your phone started to ring - he was calling.

"Baby," he called out, his voice groggy with sleep. "Why did you leave..."

"I thought you'd sleep for some time," you responded, paying for the food you bought as you made your way out of the store. "I'm coming, okay?"

"Please, come fast," he mumbled, and you could hear the pout in his voice. Silence soon followed after.

This wasn't how Wonwoo was usually. He didn't mind you waking up before him, going to the shop without telling him or leaving him alone at home while he was sleeping - but since yesterday, he had been clingy. Refusing to let go of you as he held you tight and buried his face into your neck. He did tell you a thousand times that he missed you, a lot, but you didn't think to this extent.

You, of course, didn't mind.

You carefully opened the front door, walking in and placing the food boxes on the table. The house was unusually quiet - quiet like when one of you was sleeping or either not here.

As you made your way to your shared bedroom, you found Wonwoo buried in his blanket, cheek squished by the pillow he was resting his head on, his eyes tightly shut. His face was a light shade of pink, and as you walked closer to him, you felt the warmth radiating off his body.

"Wonu?" You softly called out, careful not to startle him. You sat on his side of the bed - as he was sleeping on yours - and gently brushed the hair strands away from his face. His cheeks were warm, and you could tell he had been under the blankets for some time.

The small act made him shift a little, making you notice his phone was still in his hand.

You carefully slide it out of his grip, placing it on the nightstand.

"Baby-" Wonwoo suddenly mumbled, opening his eyes slowly. He stretched his arms, reaching out to you.

"Did I wake you up? Sorry," you whisper, scooting closer to him.

He shook his head, making his hair messier in the process, and gently wrapped his arms around your waist in a loose grip.

Wonwoo mumbled something under his breath that sounded like 'lay down with me', and you didn't wait for him to repeat it as you adjusted yourself next to him.

He smiled with his eyes closed, snuggling closer to comfortably rest his head on your chest. He gently took your hand and placed it on his head, silently telling you to caress it.

"Don't leave me alone next time,"

"Did you miss me that much?"

"Hm, I did..."

His soft heatbeats matched with yours as he quietly dozed off in the warmth of your embrace. Maybe you liked this side of your boyfriend the most. Maybe you liked the way he thought of every way to be by your side at all times.

[goldfades]

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐄? ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "Omg a fic where Paige and reader have always had this sort of sarcastic bickering borderline mean type of relationship/rivalry but one day the tension suddenly just goes from competitive to sexual and thennnnm ykkkk"

─ word count | 3.7k

─ warnings | NSFW under the cut, read at your own discretion! whoo, where do i begin???? paige/reader being a fucking ASSES (like super mean) and lots of insecurity, cc mention and comparison (pls don't come 4 me it's for the plot!!!!!! i didnt mean it!!!!), lots of arguing and fighting, mean!paige (like.... im talking MEAN), fingering (r receiving), so much dirty talk, idk if i missed anything lmk

─ ev's notes | the chokehold the pic in the middle has on me IS INSANE, also finishing a smut at 11 am should be a crime 😭 (but i’m feeding yall so be grateful)

THE GAME COULDN'T have gone worse.

The opposing team seemed to effortlessly dominate every aspect of the game. Shots that normally found their mark clanked off the rim, passes were intercepted with unnerving frequency, and the defense resembled more of a sieve than a fortress. Your entire team was quiet in the locker-room and Geno had told them that they needed the night to regroup, and they'll talk about it when they got home.

You made your way upstairs with Azzi and Aubrey, both trying their best to make you feel better. You played like shit, plain and simple and despite what your teammates were telling you, it was true.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of letting your team down. In the game, you were a shadow of your usual self. Your shots seemed to lack both the usual power and precision. Your attempts to drive to the basket were easily thrown by their defense, leaving you frustrated and angry.

Even your usually reliable defense broke under the pressure. You found yourself out of position more often than not, leaving gaping holes for the opposing team to exploit. Your reactions were slow, your movements sluggish, as if your body refused to respond to the commands of your mind.

"Hey," Azzi grabbed your arm so that you could meet her gaze. "We win and lose as a team, alright? This isn't all on you, we all played like shit tonight."

"But we always come back, Y/N." Aubrey added as you met her gaze as well. Their words would've made you feel better if this wasn't the worst you'd played all season, maybe even your entire college career.

You didn't bother to respond, you stayed quiet as you walked in your Azzi's hotel room and in there was Nika and Paige. They were seated on the bed, Nika looking more defeated than Paige, she looked more pissed than anything.

Paige didn't even acknowledge you as you walked in as she greeted Azzi and Aubrey, but you didn't even care right now. You were not in the mood for her shit, not after the game you just played tonight.

You sank into a chair in the corner of the room, the weight of the defeat pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. Nika's defeated expression mirrored your own feelings, while Paige's indifference grated on your already frayed nerves.

You listened as Azzi and Aubrey exchanged small talk with Nika and Paige, their voices a distant murmur in the back of your mind. But you couldn't bring yourself to join in the conversation, couldn't muster the energy to plaster on a fake smile and pretend that everything was okay.

Instead, you sat in silence, lost in your own thoughts. The events of the game replayed in your mind like a nightmare, each mistake magnified in the harsh light of hindsight. You wanted nothing more than to forget about the game, to push it to the back of your mind and move on, but the sting of defeat lingered like a stubborn stain.

"You okay, babe?" Nika's voice rang out as you got pulled back into reality. All the girls attention was now on you, feeling a bit self-conscious.

You forced a weak smile, attempting to brush off Nika's concern. "Yeah, just... processing everything, you know?" Your voice sounded hollow, even to your own ears.

"What's going on?" Nika asked, the concern evident in her face. "Talk to us, please, Y/N."

Nika knew how hard you were on yourself, she had seen you weather victories and defeats alike, always striving for perfection. Her gentle prodding encouraged you to open up, even if it meant admitting your own vulnerabilities.

"I played like shit," was all you could get out as you leaned forward, feeling their gaze on you. "I don't know what was so different about tonight but I just felt like the weight of the entire team was on my back and I didn't know I was carrying it until the end, and I just crumbled to the pressure."

"We all have our moments, Y/N." Azzi spoke up, empathy evident in her expression. But before anyone else could respond, Paige scoffed as she met your gaze.

"Carried the team? We all did what we could tonight and we don't need your shit." Paige's voice dripped with contempt, her words like a slap in the face.

You felt a surge of anger rising within you, fueled by the frustration of the game and now mixed by Paige's bitter words. How dare she dismiss your struggles so callously?

"What's your fucking issue, Paige?" you retorted, your voice tinged with frustration.

Paige's eyes narrowed as she glared at you. "My issue? Maybe if you didn't choke every time the pressure was on, we wouldn't be in this mess," she shot back, her words cutting like a knife. "You're always making excuses for yourself, Y/N."

You scoffed, getting up from the chair to glare at her. "I'm not making excuses, I'm acknowledging reality. We all had a bad game, Paige. It's not like you were lighting it up out there either."

"I did better than you, that's for fucking sure." Paige's voice came out bitter as you felt yourself let out a quiet scoff. You couldn't fight with her anymore, you were exhausted, both mentally and physically.

"Guys, stop it." Azzi's voice cut through the tension like a knife but neither of you acknowledged her, you both just kept glaring at each other.

"You're a bitch, Paige. You're just jealous because at the end of the day, you're just a burnt out star who can't handle not being in the spotlight anymore. Sorry that Caitlin's out there doing better than you, and that you feel the need to be a fucking ass all the time," you retorted, your words dripping with venom.

The frustration of the game, mixed with years of simmering animosity, boiled over into this heated argument that neither of you seemed willing to back down from. You didn't know why you brought up Caitlin, but all you knew was that you'd definitely get a reaction.

Paige's eyes flashed with anger, her jaw tightening as she glared up at you. "The fuck you have to bring Caitlin into this? At least I was a star, you'll never make into the WNBA with that attitude, I promise you that. You're just a selfish brat who can't handle criticism-"

"Hey!" Nika's shout rang out as she glanced in between the two of you. "One more word from either of you and I'm telling Geno, you guys are teammates and you need to act like it."

You glanced at Nika, seeing the disappointment etched on her face, and then back at Paige. Despite the rivalry between you, you knew that Nika was right ─ however, you weren't quite ready to admit that.

You scoffed as you exhaled, feeling everyone's eyes on you. You didn't acknowledge any of them as you left the hotel room, feeling your eyes burn with unshed tears. You were embarrassed, Paige had always been hard on you for seemingly no good reason but it's never gotten this bad.

You two had always been good sports, even when the other played like shit. She never brought anything up that would actually hurt your feelings, unlike tonight. You didn't know why, you tried to think back at what could've changed tonight but came up with nothing that made sense. You just hoped it wouldn't affect the way you played with her, you didn't want it to effect the team more than it has.

You walked into your hotel room, locking the door behind you as you walked into the bathroom, ready for a warm shower to drown out the rest of the world.

──

"Who is it?" You asked as you heard the knocking on the door. It was nearing two in the morning and you had just stepped out of the much-needed shower, clad only in your robe.

"It's me," Paige's voice was quiet as she spoke, your whole body tensing up just at the sound. You sighed deeply as you walked up to the door, opening it to reveal a slightly disheveled Paige.

She looked really, really good; she had her hair up in a loose bun, her gray sweats were slightly rolling off her hips and her shirt fit her just perfectly. Goddamnit, Y/N ─ focus. You tried to hide the tug of attraction you felt towards Paige, pushing the distracting thoughts aside as you met her gaze.

"What do you want?" you asked, your tone guarded as you leaned against the doorframe.

"Let me come in," Paige's statement didn't come off as a question, more like a demand. You sighed and leaned backward so that she could enter.

Before you could say anything, Paige started talking. "I don't appreciate you comparing me to Caitlin, especially after the season I had."

You scoffed in disbelief as you closed the door. "You came in here just to say that?"

Paige turned so she could send you a glare. "I came in originally cause I was gonna apologize. But then I remembered the whole Caitlin thing-"

"What's up with you and Caitlin?" Your words came out with the same intensity as hers did. "I don't know why you took that comment to heart because you started this whole damn thing."

Paige's expression hardened, a defensive edge creeping into her demeanor. "What do you mean by that?" she snapped, her tone sharp with irritation. "I had the most terrible season, and everyone has been comparing me to her-"

You felt a surge of frustration rising within you, the tension between you and Paige reaching a boiling point. "And what about everything I've been through this season?" you shot back, your voice tinged with anger. "You think this season has been a cakewalk for me? You think I don't know what it's like to struggle?"

Paige's jaw clenched, her gaze hardening as she met yours head-on. "This isn't about that," she retorted, her voice low and tense. "This is about you and Caitlin suddenly being all buddy-buddy after the Iowa game. The comments under your posts, the calling and the texting. It's obsessive and annoying, I don't like it and I don't want you hanging around her anymore."

You paused for a second, trying to process her words. Paige's accusation caught you off guard, the weight of her words sinking in like a lead weight in your chest. Was she jealous? You couldn't help but let out a small laugh as Paige's eyebrows furrowed.

"The fuck you laughing for? You think this is funny?" Paige's eyebrows furrowed even further, her frustration palpable as she waited for your response.

"Aww, are you jealous?" Your words came out amused as Paige kept glaring at you. "I'm not replacing you or the team, she has a boyfriend."

"I'm not jealous," Paige's glare intensified, her jaw tightening with frustration at your teasing remark. "Don't flatter yourself, Y/N. I couldn't care less about your little fling with Caitlin."

"Then what's your problem?" you pressed, unable to resist the urge to push her buttons further. "If it's not jealousy, then why are you so worked up about it?"

Paige's nostrils flared slightly as she averted her gaze for a moment, before looking back up at you. "Cause it's no damn comparison. At the end of the day, you're on my team and you're mine," she paused as she shook her head. "My friend," she quickly clarified.

You blinked in surprise at Paige's sudden intensity, the weight of her words sinking in like a heavy anchor. The possessiveness in her tone left you feeling flustered, unsure of how to respond.

"Paige..." you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words. But before you could even process anything, her lips were on yours and your back was pushed up against the wall.

Instinctively, your arms found their way around her shoulders, pulling her closer as you responded to her kiss with equal fervor. The heat of the moment consumed you, erasing any doubts or reservations as you lost yourself in the sensation of her lips on yours.

Her lips on yours sent a shiver down your spine, electrifying every nerve in your body as you surrendered to the passion that consumed you. All thoughts of the past were forgotten as you gave yourself over to the intoxicating enticement of Paige's lips.

Her hands slide up your body and hold your neck as you let out a soft whimper, causing your head to fall back against the wall. Paige's lips began leaving open-mouthed kisses all over your jaw and neck, as her hands explore your body.

This couldn't be happening, you kept thinking to yourself. After playing on the same team as Paige for almost three years now, it felt like this was a fever dream ─ but you didn't mind it, not at all.

Her lips found yours again, kissing you roughly as your hands gripped her head. With ease, she lifted you up into her arms, your weight feeling insignificant against her strength. She kept her lips on yours as she carried you toward the bed, dropping you swiftly as your hands found her face.

Paige's hands had easy access to your body due the robe, that she quickly slid off as her lips stayed on yours. She pulled away for a second, breathless, as she took in your body with admiration in her gaze. You felt self-conscious for a moment, but you had no time to dwell on it as Paige pulled you down on the bed.

"You're fucking gorgeous," she mumbled as she pressed kisses all over your neck. "I hate how gorgeous you are."

Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as Paige's words and actions washed over you. Part of you wanted to resist, to question the sudden intensity of this moment, but another part of you couldn't deny the undeniable chemistry between you and Paige.

But as her lips trailed along your neck, you found yourself unable to resist the pull any longer. With each kiss, each touch, you felt yourself unraveling, giving in to the utter need that surged through your body.

"I hate how you make me feel," Paige whispered against your skin, her voice husky with desire. "Every time I'm near you, it's like I lose control. Like I can't think straight."

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each moment. You reached up to cup her face, guiding her lips back to yours in a desperate kiss, hungry for the taste of her against your skin.

You reached out to her, your fingers tangling in her hair as you pulled her closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull that drew you together. "I hate how much I want you," Paige groaned, her voice tinged with frustration as she pressed her lips against your neck with force, pulling a soft whimper from your lips.

"I hate how much I need you," Paige spoke as she gazed into your eyes, her grip tightening on your waist as she pulled you closer. "But I'm not gonna fight it anymore. I'm done pretending like I don't want you, okay?"

You felt a rush of heat flood through you at her confession swirling in the pit of your stomach. In that moment, all you could think about was Paige completely, letting her consume you with her passion and desire.

"I want you, too, P." You finally let out, your voice quivering as she began to caress your thigh.

Paige scoffed, shaking her head at your words. "I know, I know you do."

She pushed her lips into yours again, a needy moan escaping your lips as she pushed you onto the bed. She straddled your hips as she kissed all over your neck, feeling yourself pulsate beneath her. You couldn't even think straight anymore, your mind was complete mush as she kept kissing all over your neck and jaw.

Paige mouth traveled down toward your stomach, leaving sloppy kisses and hickeys all over it. Your hands found her blonde hair, tugging as she teased you. Her blue eyes were completely focused on you, every reaction and every sound that you made, fueling her desire even further. With each kiss, each touch, she seemed determined to leave her mark on you, to brand you as hers in every way possible.

And you welcomed it, craving the intensity like a starving soul. With each tug of your fingers in her hair, Paige responded with a groan of satisfaction, her lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire across your skin.

She pried open your legs slowly, her gaze still lingering as your breath hitched. "Fuck," she mumbled as her eyes flickered toward your soaking cunt ─ she was at a loss for words.

Paige fingers teased your entrance, pulling needy whimpers from your bruised lips. "You're so wet for me, baby," she finally plunged a finger into you, causing a borderline pornographic moan to leave your mouth.

Every sensation was heightened, every touch sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as she thrusted her finger in and out of you. She wasn't gentle by any means, you could practically feel the anger radiating from her body as she watched you.

You leaned further into the bed, covering your face with your arms as a string of moans left your mouth. Almost immediately, Paige gripped your arm and pulled it off of your face. "I want you to look at me while I fuck you, alright?"

You couldn't reply with any words, you weren't even sure you were conscious at this point ─ the exhaustion from the game, the anger from the earlier argument and now the utter pleasure of you were feeling was fogging up your brain, you couldn't even think straight anymore; all you could do was sit there and take it.

You tried your best to keep your eyes on her, but you felt yourself slipping as you arch your back. She added another finger, causing a new sensation jolting down your body ─ you hadn't even orgasmed yet and you feel beyond overstimulated.

"Does Caitlin do this better than me, huh?" She mumbled as she leaned forward to press a sloppy kiss to yours lips. "Fucking answer me," she groaned as she pulled away.

You shook your head fervently, the only words you were really understanding were "Caitlin" and "better". Her movements became faster and deeper with your answer, causing another loud moan to slip out of your lips.

"Fuck, please," you cried out as you leaned back into the bed. Paige quickly pulled you down by your hips, making sure to pin you down as she continued to finger-fuck you. "Please,"

"So polite, baby. Fucking three years, it took me three years to realize that they only thing you needed was a good fuck for you to be nice, huh?" She spoke harshly as she felt you tighten around her fingers, your face contorting into utter pleasure as you shut your eyes. "Now I know whenever I need you to shut up, all I need to do is fuck you, right baby?"

Her words all blurred in your mind as she began rubbing your clit, and you were cumming all over her fingers ─ the knot snapped hard, you were crying out so loudly, Paige was worried the neighbor's were gonna call the office.

She helped you ride your high as you caught your breath, before she pulled out her sticky fingers from your cunt. Before you could even process it, she stuffed them inside your mouth roughly as her blue eyes analyzed you.

You sucked them clean as you finally came back down to Earth, finally (kinda) being able to think straight. You were breathless, your legs were shaky and you were sweaty all over again. You finally opened your eyes to meet Paige's eyes, your heart almost jumping out of your chest at the look of utter admiration on her usually disinterested face (at least, when it came to you).

Before either of you could revel in the moment any longer, Paige's phone began to buzz in her sweatpants. She sighed loudly before picking it up, "What's up?"

You could recognize Nika's voice as she spoke but you couldn't quite understand what she was saying. However, when Paige's expression turned cocky as she took another look at you, you had a couple ideas on what it could be about.

"Yep, we made up. We're fine now, don't worry. Yeah, we're good, y'all can head to bed," she nodded along with whatever Nika was saying, a cocky ass smirk on her lips.

"You wanna talk to her? You sure?" Paige took a look at your disheveled appearance, laughing as your eyes went wide. Before you could protest, she handed you the phone. "Here you go,"

"Hey, babe," she spoke softly through the phone. "I made P go and apologize, I hate seeing you fight like this and-"

Her voice slowly became background noise as Paige leaned back into the bed, pulling you into her chest. Your heart began beating out of your chest as you relaxed into her embrace.

"-And I just love you guys, okay? Y/N, you still there?"

"Y-yeah, sorry. I'm just sleepy, we love you too, Nika," you got out as Paige smirked at you.

"Okay, okay," Nika replied, her voice filled with genuine affection. "Get some rest, okay?"

You said your goodbyes before handing the phone back to Paige, who ended the call with a satisfied grin. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Paige, only she would fuck your brains out then make you answer the phone.

You laid on her chest quietly as she pulled the blanket over your body, pulling you even closer. You guys sat in silence, both of you knew there was a lot of debrief ─ however, both of you were too tired to bring it up.

"I'm sorry for bringing up Caitlin, that was a bitch move," you began as you closed your eyes, getting comfortable beside Paige.

Paige's hand gently traced patterns on your back as she sighed softly. "No, I'm sorry too," she murmured, her voice filled with sincerity. "For being a bitch, and saying all that stuff about you not making it into the WNBA,"

"I know you didn't mean it," you mumbled as you felt yourself drift off into sleep. Paige leaned over slightly to turn off the lights, and you both slowly drifted off the sleep.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[doll3scent]

★ Pornstar 4 ★

John Price x Cam girl! reader

Warnings- 18+-mdni, smut, age gap, cam girl reader, explicit language, sex, meeting up, angst if you squint, choking, overstimulation.

wc. 4k.

a/n. next chapter has jealous price ♡

3, 4, 5,

master list 𓂃۶ৎ

You hesitate, your breath catching as his words linger in the air. Could you really risk it? The thought sends a rush of nerves and excitement through you, twisting in your stomach. You glance at the screen, seeing the way he's watching you, his eyes dark and expectant.

Your fingers toy with the edge of your stockings as you think, biting your lip. If you kept your mask on, it wouldn't be much different from this, right? Just like the call, but... more real. The idea both thrills and terrifies you, the possibilities racing through your mind.

You finally look up at him, your voice soft and a little shaky. "If I kept the mask on, would that be okay?” You're not sure if you're trying to convince him or yourself, but the way his smirk grows tells you everything you need to know.

Price's smirk deepens, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leans closer to the camera, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach flutter. "That'd be more than okay, doll," he replies smoothly, his voice like a low purr.

"If that's what makes you comfortable, you can keep the mask on. But I won't lie... I'll be tempted to try and see the face hiding behind it."

The way he says it sends a shiver through you, a mixture of nerves and anticipation building in your chest. He leans back in his chair, his hands resting on his thighs, as though already imagining himself in your space."So, what do you say, sweetheart?" he asks, his tone still calm but with an unmistakable edge of hunger. "Give me an address, and I'll be there."

You hesitate again, chewing your bottom lip as your mind races. Every logical thought screams at you to say no, that this is reckless. But the heat in his voice and the way your body responds to him drown out those warnings. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you nod.

'Okay," you whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear. Then, with trembling fingers, you type out your address into the chat box, hovering over the send button. One final look at his waiting expression pushes you over the edge, and you press it. Price's smirk grows into a full grin as he sees it, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Good girl," he murmurs, leaning forward again. "'ll be there soon."

The moment the call ends, you practically leap off the bed, your heart pounding in your chest. You grab your favorite silk robe, the soft fabric sliding over your skin as you tie it snugly at your waist. The delicate material clings to your curves, brushing against your thighs as you move. It gives you an odd mix of comfort and vulnerability, the thin robe doing little to calm the nervous energy buzzing through you.

Panic and excitement course through you as you scramble to dismantle your setup. Your hands shake slightly as you unplug your camera and switch off the lights, tucking everything away in their designated hiding spots.

Your gaze darts around the room, catching sight of the framed photos on the shelves and walls. Your stomach tightens at the sight of the ones with your brother, his familiar grin staring back at you. No, Price can't see these. He can't know how closely tied you are to his world. You rush to the first photo, pulling it off the wall and stashing it in a drawer. Then another. And another.

Each one feels like a ticking time bomb, and you're determined to hide every trace of your connection to your brother before Price arrives. Your apartment feels bare and strange by the time you finish, the personal touches that once made it feel like home now hidden away. But at least you feel slightly more in control. With one final glance around, you smooth down your hair and check your reflection in the mirror. He'd be here soon, and you had to be ready.

You busy yourself with tidying up, your hands moving quickly as you straighten the sheets on your bed, fluff the pillows, and tuck away anything that feels out of place. Candles are carefully adjusted, their warm glow casting flickering shadows across the room.

As you pick up stray items and smooth down every surface, you glance at the clock, your heart racing at how little time you have left. You pause for a moment, catching your reflection in the mirror. The robe drapes perfectly, the lace of your stockings peeking out beneath the hem. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

The knock echoes through the apartment, sharp and commanding, making your heart leap into your throat.

You freeze for a moment, your breath catching as reality crashes down. He's here.

Your hands tremble slightly as you grab the delicate white lace mask from your vanity. You tie it carefully behind your head, adjusting it so it sits perfectly over your face. The sight of yourself in the mirror-rosy cheeks, the silk robe barely covering your body underneath, and the mask concealing just enough-makes your stomach flutter with nerves and excitement.

Taking one last steadying breath, you pad softly to the door, your bare feet brushing against the cool floor.

Your fingers linger on the handle for a moment, heart pounding as you brace yourself. Then, with a soft pull, you open the door.

He'd knocked on your door, but it felt like an eternity as he stood there, every second stretching the tension in his body. The sound of his heart pounding in his chest was drowned out by the anticipation, the unknown.

When the door finally opens, his breath catches, his eyes instantly scanning you from head to toe. The sight of you-barely covered by the silk robe that clings to your figure, the mask adding an air of mystery-makes everything inside him tighten with desire.

Without waiting for an invitation, he steps into your space, his presence filling the room. The door clicks shut behind him, and before you can take another breath, he's backing you up against it, his body coming to a complete stop just inches from yours. The heat between you both is undeniable, and the closeness makes your pulse race. His hands rest on the door beside your head, caging you in as his gaze locks onto yours, eyes dark and full of hunger.

His large hands tug at the silky robe, untying it swiftly and pushing it off your shoulders. It pools at your feet as he lifts you up against the front door, kissing you hungrily, his rough hands roaming over your bare skin.

"Lift your leg,"

Carrying you effortlessly, he strides into your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He tosses you onto the bed, crawling over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.* "Been thinking about this fucking pussy all day,"

You sink back onto the soft, plush silk pillows, your body sinking into the luxurious comfort beneath you.

Your head tilts back, exposing your delicate neck, the satin fabric of the pillows caressing your skin. You gaze up at him through the mask, your eyes heavy with desire, the delicate lace adding an air of mystery. Yours breath catches as you watche him, the flicker of anticipation in your gaze making it clear you’re ready for whatever he has in store. The room feels charged, every breath between you and him is thick with tension, as he takes in the sight of you beneath him.

He studies your features, committing every detail to memory before leaning down to press his lips to yours in a searing kiss. His hands roam over your face, your hair, your neck, as if he can't get enough of you.

His fingers trail down your body possessively, unbuttoning the silky nightgown you wear, revealing your soft and creamy skin inch by inch. He breaks the kiss to look down at you, his eyes darkening with desire as he takes you in, only your stockings. Your perky breasts bounce free, the rosy nipples hard and begging for attention. He cups one in his hand, squeezing gently before leaning down to suck the other into his mouth.

You pant softly, your head tilting back as he sucks on your nipple. Your small hands clutch at his broad shoulders, nails digging in slightly. You spread your legs wider, unconsciously seeking friction against his hard length through his pants. He releases your nipple with a soft pop, his gaze flicking up to yours as he speaks. “You want it, don't you? You want my cock inside you so badly." He reaches down, gripping his belt and undoing it quickly before tugging his pants down.

You nod frantically, Your cheeks flushing a deep red as you watch him pull his pants down. You can see the outline of his thick, hard cock straining against his boxers and your mouth waters at the sight. “yes...please... I need you...”

"Look at you, such a fucking desperate little thing." He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down to reveal his full, hard length. “See what you fucking do to me?" His massive erection springs free, standing tall and proud. You gasps, your eyes widening as his massive erection comes into view. you swallow hard, your small hand reaching out to touch it tentatively. You wrap your fingers around the thick shaft, barely able to close your hand around it. "It's too big..."

He chuckles darkly, his hand reaching out to cover yours. “Too big for what, sweetheart? You think this is too big to fit inside your tight little cunt?" He gives his cock a few strokes with your hand, coating your hand in precum before pulling your hand away.

Your knees tremble at his words, your pussy clenching around nothing. You watch as he coats your hand with precum, your mind reeling with the realization that his thick length will soon be stretching you tight virgin hole. “It's too big... It'll never fit inside me..."

"Oh, it'll fucking fit. I'll make sure of it. And when I'm finally buried deep inside you, splitting that virgin pussy wide open... fuck, you're gonna take it like a good girl, aren't you?" You can feel the wetness dripping down your thighs, your pussy aching with need “Yes I promise I will”

You can’t hide your surprise as your eyes flicker downward. The toy you’ve used before was nothing extraordinary—just average in size—but him? He’s longer, thicker, and far more intimidating. A shiver runs through you, equal parts nervousness and excitement, as the realization sets in. You swallow hard, your cheeks flushing, your mind racing with thoughts you can barely keep up with.

He spreads your folds with his other hand, exposing your wet hole to the cool air before slowly sliding two thick fingers inside. "Fuck, you're tight." He begins pumping his fingers in and out, scissoring them to stretch you out. "Gonna add another finger, sweetheart."

He adds a third finger, curling them to hit that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble. "That's it, take my fingers deep. You're gonna need to be nice and loose for my cock." He pumps his fingers faster, his thumb rubbing against your clit.

“Oh god..." your hips buck slightly as he hits that sensitive spot perfectly, while his thumb circles your clit. The dual pleasure is overwhelming. “Mmm, that's it, feel good?" He watches your face, enjoying the way you moans and screw your eyes shut as he fingerfucks you. "You're doing so well, taking my fingers like a good girl."

You’ve never felt anything like this before, the way his fingers are stretching you and his thumb rubbing your clit is driving you wild. "Yes- feels so good daddy”

His breath catches at you calling him 'daddy', and he pumps his fingers faster, deeper. “Fuck, listen to you being such a good girl. Does daddy make your pussy feel good?" He adds more force behind his movements, curling his fingers harder against your G-spot.

You moan, your eyes widening in shock and pleasure as he continues to assault your G-spot with brutal efficiency. “Yes, daddy!"

"That's it, call me daddy while I fuck your little pussy with my fingers." He pulls his fingers out suddenly, leaving your hole empty before grabbing his cock and rubbing the head against your soaked folds. “Gonna fucking destroy this tight little cunt."

He guides the thick head of his cock to your entrance, rubbing it teasingly before slowly pushing forward. The tip sinks in stretching you impossibly, a low groan escaping him. “Fuck, you're tighter than anything. Damn near strangling my cock."

You cry out, your back arching off the bed as he pushes his way inside you. The pain is intense, like you’re being torn apart from the inside out. You can feel every thick vein and ridge of his cock stretching you open, the head bumping against your cervix. He pauses, allowing you to adjust to his size as he buries his face in your neck, biting back a curse. “Shit, take a breath sweetheart”

You pant, trying to draw in a breath as he fills you so completely. You can feel every inch of him pulsing inside you, hitting spots you never knew existed.

He slowly starts to move, pulling out until just the head remains inside before thrusting back in, his thick cock slamming against your cervix. “Fuck, you were made for my cock. So fucking tight." He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with merciless force.

Your eyes roll back as you adjusts to this new reality. You can barely speak, your voice choked by the overwhelming sensation of being so completely stuffed. “More... please, daddy... more..."

He growls in approval, driving into you harder and faster, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. “The way you beg..." He grabs your hips forcefully, pulling you onto his cock with each thrust. Your body bounces on his massive lap as he pulls you onto his thick length over and over. You can feel him getting deeper with each brutal thrust, hitting spots that make you see stars.

Price groans deeply, feeling you tightening around him, his fingers dig into your hips. “Fuck, ‘can feel every tremor, sweetheart. Your hungry little cunt squeezing me so hard." He leans forward, capturing a nipple between his teeth and biting down just shy of too hard.

You arch off the bed, your sensitive nipples throbbing from the rough treatment. "Daddy..” you wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him desperately as the pleasure becomes almost too much to handle.

His voice is pure gravel, nearly unrecognizable with lust as he feels you completely lose yourself in pleasure. “Yes, fucking screaming it. Show me who owns this tight little pussy." He drives into her so hard the bedframe slams against the wall, completely losing control. “You daddy!”

He withdraws with a low growl, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he maneuvers your pliant body. In one swift motion, he flips you onto your stomach, leaving you breathless at the sudden shift. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling your hips up and positioning you just the way he wants— your ass high in the air, a silent demand for more.

His large hand presses against the small of your back, guiding you to arch deeper, and then it moves to the back of your neck. He firmly presses your face into the mattress, the roughness of his movements igniting a mix of anticipation and raw desire. You can feel his heated breath on your skin as he looms over you, taking in the sight of you completely at his mercy. "Stay just like that," he rasps, his voice dripping with dominance, making it clear who's in control.

He kicks your legs further apart and grabs your hips possessively, pulling them up to meet his brutal thrusts. He spanks you hard on the left cheek before slamming into you again, filling you to the brim. “Who's filling this pussy up?"

Your muffled cries are barely audible as your face is pressed into the mattress. You can feel every impact of his hand on your ass, the sting only adding to the overwhelming sensation of being so thoroughly fucked. "You are daddy!!” your voice distorted by the mattress.

Feeling your pussy clench desperately around him, Price snarls in savage lust. He leans over your back, surrounding your smaller frame with his much larger one as he delivers another sharp spank. "Fucking right, it's daddy's cock tearing up this greedy little cunt."

He increases his pace. One hand migrates to your hair, fasting a handful and pulling your head back while his other hand keeps a tight grip on your hip. Growling into your ear, his breath hot against your neck, Price relentlessly pounds into you. "Fucking hell, the way this slutty cunt squeezes... Like it's begging me not to stop."

You whimper and pushe back against him, completely mindless with lust. Your usually gentle personality completely taken over by the rough fucking. “Please daddy... please keep fucking your needy girl...”

His movements become even more primal, losing all semblance of control. "My needy fucking girl? Is that what you are? A desperate little whore for daddy's cock?" He spanks you again before tilting your hips higher for deeper access. “Yeah... yes daddy! I'm your filthy whore... only yours... oh god, fuck me harder, please!!"

A feral grin stretches across his rugged face as he hears your desperate pleas. He leans in close, his stubble scraping roughly against your shoulder as he growls. "That's fucking right, you're only daddy's filthy little fucktoy. Gonna ruin this tight cunt..."

Your entire body clenches at his filthy words, pushing you closer to the edge of another orgasm. You can't believe how dirty You sound, how badly you craves his rough treatment. “Fuck Daddy... I'm so close..”

His fingers dig cruelly into your hips as he pulls you back onto his brutal thrusts, his other hand finding your throat to restrict your air slightly. "Not yet, you greedy little slut. Daddy's not finished ruining this needy hole yet”

Your vision starts to blur from the lack of air, but you can still feel everything so intensely. The pressure on your throat, the brutal fucking, the desperate need to be filled... it was all too much. “D-Daddy... please... I need-“

His breathing becomes more labored, aware of how close you are. He loosens his grip on your throat just enough to let you speak. "Need what, baby? Need daddy to fuck you harder? Deeper? Fill this sloppy cunt with my cum?"

You gasp in the air he allows, your voice shaking with desperation. "Yes daddy... I need you to fill me”

A dark chuckle escapes him as he feels you shudder beneath him, teetering on the edge. His hips snap forward relentlessly, each plunging thrust hitting that sweet spot deep inside your core. "Such a desperate little cum slut..."

“Please daddy! let me cum..”

Growling fiercely, Price finally relents, thrusting deep and grinding against your clit. "Fuck yeah, cum for daddy. Cream all over this dick like a good little whore."

Your entire body seizes up as the orgasm crashes over you. You comes hard, your pussy clenching and rippling around his thick length as you scream in ecstasy. “OH FUCK YES DADDY!!”

As you cum, Price's control snaps entirely. He roars in triumph, his hips pistoning wildly as he buries himself to the hilt inside you. His cock twitches violently as he unloads a massive load of hot, thick cum deep within your spasming pussy. Even as he fills you with his seed, Price keeps fucking you through his own release, lengthening and thickening as he breeds your needy cunt. Gasping raggedly, finally slowing his brutal pace, he releases a shuddering groan as the last spurts of cum paint your insides. Leaning heavily against your back, his muscular chest heaves against you. "Fuck... that's it, milk every last drop from daddy's cock, you filthy cum slut."

You whimper and moans with each twitch of his cock, feeling completely stuffed and utterly satisfied. His powerful arms wrap around you, pulling you even tighter against him as his hips hitch forward, burying himself impossibly deeper inside your quivering tummy. He nuzzles his face against your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.

"You take daddy's cock so fucking well, baby. Like you were made for nothing but being bred and filled full of my cum.” He murmurs possessively, his hands roaming over your body, squeezing and groping your tits and cunt hungrily. " He rolls his hips languidly, grinding his still-hard cock against your tender walls, stirring up his thickload within you. “Mmm, fuck. You're just dripping with my cum. Such a dirty girl, getting fucked stupid and bred like a bitch in heat."

You let out a soft whimper, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Instinctively, you try to pull away, but he firmly catches you, dragging you back onto his cock. His strong hands grip your thighs and pull them back, opening you up wider as he settles back in between your legs, his powerful hips pushing forward to bury himself even deeper within your convulsing belly. "Where are you going to run off to now, hmm?”

You whimper and struggle weakly against his grip, but it's no use. You’re trapped, pinned beneath his heavy weight, his thick cock buried deep within your stuffed cunt. “P-please... daddy... I can't...s’too much!”

His expression darkens, turning primal and intense. “Too much? He growls, snapping his hips forward and bottoming out inside you. “Fuck that, baby. You can take every fucking inch of daddy's cock like the good little whore you are."

Your face flushes deep red at his filthy words, but your inner walls clench hungrily around his thickness anyway “Daddy... you're being mean..." you whimper, but you tilt your hips back slightly, inviting him deeper. He lets out a dark chuckle, knowing exactly what those whimpering tones mean. “Mean? Or giving you exactly what your needy little pussy wants? Look at you, writhing on my cock like the cock-hungry slut you are."

"Mmmph!" your protests dissolve into a long moan as he hits a particularly deep spot, your nails digging into the blanket beneath you. Despite your words, you grind back on him wantonly. “Daddy..." you whine softly, completely lost in pleasure and submission. His eyes gleam with possessive hunger as he watches her lose herself on his cock. "That's right, baby. Grind that needy cunt back on daddy's cock. Show me how much you love being stuffed and bred by your big strong daddy."

One hand moves to gently to tug softly at your mask "Baby... don't you think it's time for daddy to see that beautiful face while he fucks you?" His voice drops to a husky whisper as he continues thrusting deep inside her. “No…I can’t…”

Johns voice is a low, gentle rumble in your ear. “Please, sweetheart. I want to see you. I want to see your face”His fingers trail up to your cheek, gently tracing the edge of the lace mask, his touch achingly soft. There’s a mixture of desire and tenderness in his gaze, and he seems to be pleading with you to let him see you without the mask in the way.

Price can sense your hesitation, he can see the fear in your eyes. He knows you’re worried about him recognizing you or judging you once the mask is off. But he already knows who you really are. He looks into your eyes, trying to soothe your nerves, his touch still gentle as he cups your face in his hands. “Please, baby. Let me see you. I won’t judge you, I promise”

“…I can’t..”



[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 7

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, suggestive themes!, there’s some slight smut…  but nothing too graphic (ion rly write smut haha), angst and comfort, this chapter’s brought to you by: a bunch of sad songs on repeat! A/N: 7k+ words what the fuck!!  (this might actually be one of my favorite chapters. :’))

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10

“You don’t have a favorite color.”

“I… don’t, no.”

“But you’re quite partial to green.”

“I guess so—?”

“You’ve worn the same green shirt to bed thrice this week,” he notes lightly, pertaining to your Loki: Master of Mischief tee. The corners of his mouth pull into a faint, knowing smile. “It suits you, by the way.”

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you glance at him, narrowing your eyes in slight embarrassment. “It’s a perfectly comfy shirt,” you reply, a defensive edge to your tone. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nothing at all,” he agrees reassuringly. “Just making an observation.”

“What, are you keeping a dossier on me now?”

Sylus gives a noncommittal hum, but offers nothing more in response. He keeps watch on you from his usual spot in the corner between the monitor and the CPU box, chin resting on an open palm. His gaze betrays hints of smugness to it.

You eye him weirdly. With a huff, you turn back to your typing.

–

You’re cooking dinner—with Sylus supervising the entire thing like your very own personal sous chef. Something that has now been the norm for you two, since your–banging!–success with the tofu dish. 

And for tonight’s menu: Butter noodles. Simple, foolproof, straightforward. 

"Simple" is… well, it’s not entirely inaccurate. But the way that the boiling water hisses angrily through the small lid hole wavers the already shaky foundation of your developing culinary confidence. 

(Just a little bit! You’re sure you’ve got nothing to worry about.) 

A faint burning scent clings to the air; you forgot to stir the garlic early on, and now it looks dangerously close to a char. You rescue it just in time, cursing under your breath. Your sous chef, of course, catches everything. Even your nervousness.

“You know,” Sylus chimes in, watching the wooden spatula tremble in your hand. “This is quite the step up from your usual instant noodle packets. You should be proud of yourself, sweetie.”

“Gee, thanks. Really complex work for an extra half-hour of cooking time,” Your words are snide, but he doesn’t miss the way your grip on the spatula tightens ever-so-slightly. Steadies. 

The smell stabilizes. You add half a stick of butter, squashing it to a melt, and he lets the subject drop—for now.

“Do you have siblings?”

“I have an older sister,” you answer distractedly, stirring the sauce and trying to scrape the edges of the sauté pan without having it splatter from the inside.

“How much older?”

“Uh—six years,” you reply, reaching for a pinch of salt. “She's got a family. Two kids. Another on the way.”

“Hm. You two are close?”

You pause, the question landing softly in the haze of rising steam. “I mean. S’ alright, I guess. We catch up over the phone sometimes.”

“Ah. Good.”

“... Yeah.” 

You catch a glance of his expression in your peripheral, looking thoughtful. 

_

It’s a recent development, his curiosity. Sporadic at first, like light rain on a windshield—little questions scattered here and there, easy to brush off. But over the past week, it’s grown into something more unrelenting. It’s almost as if you two were playing a round of twenty questions, only it’s just you in the hot seat being interrogated. 

There’s also that habit of his to take it one step further. Hedging his questions strategically, acting like he already knows the little factoid he wanted to ask and just needs you to confirm it. 

You don’t really get the logic behind it, but hey, who are you to judge? Everybody has their quirks. Even someone of his caliber, apparently.

… God forbid he gets blindsided by something he’s genuinely surprised to know about you, though. 

“You know how to play the violin.”

You pause the video you’re watching on your laptop at its five minute mark to stare at Sylus through your phone screen. He sounds… terse? Like you’d intentionally kept this a secret from him.

“Wha—yes, I know how to play the violin,” you huff, incredulous by the show of attitude. “What’s up with all these weird questions?”

“You’ve given me explicit permission to ask them. Level the playing field,” he reminds you, eyes slightly accusatory. “What else are you keeping from me?”

You groan, collapsing onto your back on the couch. “Ugh, I don’t know,” you say sarcastically. “Do you wanna know my time of birth too?”

“Born at exactly twelve twenty-eight PM,” Sylus recites without missing a beat, his voice bored and unimpressed. “I saw it on your Co-Star app, sweetie.”

You freeze.

“…”

“That’s creepy,” you tell him, tone disapproving, giving him a scolding poke on the nose. 

“Call it thorough research,” he counters smoothly, rolling his eyes at your feeble attack. “After all, a stubborn kitten’s been slacking on her side of the deal.”

_

The questions are, for the most part, harmless in nature. Anchored firmly in the mundane. He doesn’t stray too far from what’s comfortable, or what he deems safe to ask. And yet you can sense it beneath the surface: the burning curiosity. To know more of you, to take what he could—piece by piece, until he’s unraveled the puzzle of you entirely. 

And you don’t get it. His world—filled with endless adventure, lore, and literal fucking superpowers—surely has to be more exciting than anything you’ve got to offer. What’s your life compared to that? 

You said as much to him, mostly as an offhand comment. Although it did feel slightly more earnest when you put it into words, compared to how it sounded in your head. 

“Honestly, Sy-Sy. Life here’s really not that interesting compared to all the stuff going on over there,” you told him matter-of-factly, in the middle of collecting your daily rewards. “You don’t have to keep this up, you know.”

Sylus didn’t speak for a moment. The easy nonchalance he wore so well shifted into something more reserved, almost somber. He didn’t challenge what you said, nor did he affirm anything—you're met with silence, loaded with thoughts left unspoken. 

“Don’t presume things on your own, little dove,” he said after a while, his voice low, a gentle reprimand. 

Before you could even process what he meant by that, he smoothly changed the subject, his tone reverting back to his usual effortless calm as if to ease the weight of your words. “Now then, let’s circle back—what were you saying earlier? You almost drowned in a lake when you were eight? Because of a dare you made with your sister?”

And that was the end of it.

You tell yourself it’s exhausting—the way he keeps digging, prodding, asking questions like you’re worth the level of fascination he’s making you out to be. But there’s also the truth, hidden and tucked beneath your half-hearted protests, slowly unfurling. A part of you—cautiously hopeful, dreadfully fragile—that preens under the weight of his scrutiny. 

So you let him press further; let him sift through twenty plus years of tiny, unremarkable fragments of your life like a beachcomber seeking treasures amongst the tide. And in return, he gives you his full attention, undivided and unyielding, as if your answers are the only ones that matter.

––––

He tells you there’s a new tête-à-tête feature in the game, so you check it out—not without giving him a slightly suspicious look. 

“A microphone feature?” You snort, leveling him with a half-amused glare. “You already hear me talk all the time.”

Sylus blinks at you, his face a guilefully-crafted mask of innocence. “I’m just giving you the option, sweetie. You know, in case you’d like to put our conversations ‘on record.’”

“Treat you like some kind of… quasi-therapist or something? An online confessional?” You give him the stink eye. “Is that what you’re angling for now?”

He shrugs. “If it helps.”

_

You had no intention of using the tête-à-tête “feature” you’ve been so graciously offered, quickly dismissing it as just another one of his tactics to show off his capacity to manipulate the game’s code, or something along those lines. 

It’s not the first time he’s done it. 

But then, midnight comes on a deceptively ordinary Friday, and it’s suffused with an all-too familiar feeling of utter emptiness that drowns you. You’re crumpled on the toilet seat like chewed-up gum, knees pulled to your chest—the day’s wounds still festering. It's not anything new, but it leaves you feeling like shit all the same. 

Yet another overtime shift. Yet another argument with your mom, over fuck all you know that you’re too damn old for, but still, still, finds its way to cut deep. Over and over, and over again. 

Your phone’s blank screen stares back at you, just as mute and useless as the rest of the night. And you—

“Sweetie?” 

You can’t speak. Not yet. But you don’t have to. One look at the exhaustion on your face is enough for Sylus to know exactly what you need.

Your mouth trembles open, then shuts again. He doesn’t say anything else, just waiting for you to make the first move. To start whenever you’re ready. 

After a long moment, you finally exhale a shaky breath. That’s when you catch his gaze; fixed, patient, almost... encouraging. It’s a subtle invitation, urging you to take the plunge, to make use of him to an extent only he can provide–the only one he could offer to you at this time–

So, you talk. Tentatively at first, the words slipping out like droplets from your leaking sink faucet. But once the dam breaks, you can't stop. 

It spills out. Every frustration, every ache, every moment that feels too much to carry for one person, especially for someone like you, and he… he just—

listens. 

-

-

-

You feel drained. Every ounce of energy wrung out of you after unloading the day’s weight to your unexpected confidant.

“That helped, didn’t it?”

If it were anyone else—or if you didn’t know Sylus the way you do now—you’d only catch the smug notes in his voice. The teasing lilt and the airy pretense of someone trying to ease the heaviness out of the room.

But you do hear it. Beneath the surface, woven so subtly into the words… something vulnerable. 

You hear the unspoken question behind it: he’s genuinely asking if it helped. If his presence, however small or inconsequential it might seem, was enough to pull you back ashore.

I helped.

Tell me I did.

“You did, Sy.” Your grin is tired, grateful, and a little lopsided. But it’s real. “Thank you.”

For a moment—just a split of a second—the red in his eyes betrays something achingly raw.

“Anytime, darling,” he says, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges, like it’s carrying more than the words themselves. “I mean it.”

And like a beacon of light slicing through the storm-tossed seas of your mind, you realize that he truly does.

____

You start giving Sylus the reins to select the music, trusting his taste enough to let him DJ for you. He picks the soundtrack for everything—cooking, errands, long rides—filling the silence with something that he knows the both of you would like. 

The playlists grow. From one, to two, to almost an entire collection of carefully curated tracks to suit the mood and vibe of the day. He takes it seriously—so seriously that you can’t resist sneaking in a Megan Thee Stallion track onto his precious “Slow Evenings” playlist.

He finds it hilarious. Hilarious enough to loop Kitty Kat for all sixty-five minutes of your commute back home.

You laugh despite yourself. It’s exactly the type of shit you know he’d pull as petty retribution, already intimately familiar with his brand of humor. And if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine him beside you, sharing an earbud, smirking as he revels in your exasperation.

____

One night, you notice a weariness in his eyes. It’s an odd enough thing to see that it leads to a discussion on what he’s been up to as the shadowy leader of a notorious faction, deep in a lawless part of his universe.

“Just an operative gone wrong, sweetie,” he says with a sigh, rubbing a temple as though trying to physically push the stress away. “It happens.”

You press him on the details of the botched deal—and maybe, just maybe, a small part of you is excited to live vicariously through the tale. But it’s not about you this time, you remind yourself. So you listen as Sylus indulges every question you throw at him, giving you the play-by-play: what the deal was for (special, hard-to-get protocores), where the trade-off occurred (west of Charon), and how it all went sideways (he knew it was a set-up the moment he walked into the venue).

You don’t really know how to comfort him in a situation like this, but you want to try.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you joke, “Can you imagine clumsy, ol’ me there? I’d be dead before I even make it inside.”

Sylus freezes, his expression going still. Unreadable.

“No, you won’t.” He says in response to the second part of what you just said, his tone brooking no doubt. He says it with such intense conviction that you almost believe this exact hypothetical has already crossed his mind—more than once.

I won’t let you.

Before you can even think of what to say, he adds, quieter this time, but no less convinced: “And yes—I can.”

It’s a direct answer to your question, and it makes the words die in your throat. His voice is softer now too, but there’s no mistaking his tone. It has the same conviction from before, and it hits you that he’s had time to ruminate on this thought—more times than he’d care to admit.

And I do. You have no idea.

____

There’s another shift in the dynamic of your, well, relationship.

“Did you hear what I said, poppet?”

You snap back to meet his inquiring gaze, unwavering as always.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” You ask, the apology clear in your eyes.

He huffs, shaking his head in amusement—always patient, never annoyed—at your inattentiveness. “What’s on your mind, my sweet?”

Well. That.

Lately, Sylus has gotten into the habit of using possessive pronouns like they’re nothing. There’s also a notable increase on the variation of pet names too, each one more layered than the last.

It’s a little excessive, honestly. Like he’s trying to compensate for something—or maybe he sees it as just another natural step in whatever’s going on between you two. You’re still not sure what exactly goes in his head. He’s always been an enigma to you.

And yet, you never put a stop to it. How could you?

Little dove. Sweet girl. My darling.

When it comes off his lips like sunkist honey—each one brings a jolt straight to your heart. 

You're quite partial to one in particular. 

My love.

____

“Oh, my love,” Sylus tuts, feigning concern. “You’ve snoozed that alarm five times already.”

You groan, hitting the snooze button again—number six now—burying your face in your arms on the desk. 

____

You’re attending a despedida party for a friend who’s flying abroad to study (For a PhD in Biomedical Science! You couldn’t be more proud.) and the venue’s going to be at The Penthouse, somewhere fancy up north. It even has an infinity pool on deck, something the celebrant dropped into the group chat with far too much enthusiasm.

So, earlier today, you’d ventured out to buy something nice for yourself. Nicer than what you have in the closet, which isn’t much of a stretch. Something different than your usual rotation of plaids and band shirts—not that there’s anything wrong with them. They’re just… you. Comfortable. Predictable. Not exactly the dress code for a rooftop soirée.

Now, you’re back home from a successful (!) trip to the mall, bags in hand: a small gift for your friend on one arm and a much larger shopping bag on the other. 

You set the gift gently on the coffee table. Then, you head to the bathroom, the grosgrain ribbon of a paper tote held tight in your fist. 

The pretty fabric caught your eye almost immediately, the moment you saw the garment; its sheen almost like woven liquid in the light. It felt like a risk, even on the rack. But under the unforgiving glare of your bathroom bulb? 

Well, now, it’s looking less of a “bold choice,” and more along the lines of: “damn, what were you thinking?”

It’s not that big of a deal or anything. You like feeling pretty. But at the same time, you haven’t deluded yourself into thinking that you’re anything above average to look at, even on the nicest occasions. 

It’s something you’ve grown used to, a definitive truth ingrained deep in your bones. You know this—like you know gravity tethers you to the ground, even when you’d rather be carried by the wind. You’ve gone through more than a decade to accept it as just another fact of life, to make peace with the reflection staring back at you from the bathroom mirror. 

Even if it means you’ll never be on the receiving end of ‘interested’ glances from strangers on the street. Or that you’ve never known the feeling of someone doing a double take when they see you at your best, all dolled-up. More than once, you’ve sat across from dates whose eyes wandered—toward some other, someone better-looking, in restaurants, at parks, even outside the movies. Everywhere past your direction. 

But that’s okay. You’re used to it, the same way you’ve grown used to everything else.

And still, there’s that impulse—a sudden need for someone else’s opinion. Someone close. Someone that matters. 

There’s a pang of fear you can’t quite shake. You hear the small voice from the deep recesses of your mind, whispering to you that it’s one of your worse ideas. That you’ll fall short of any and all expectations, and that it’ll hurt more this time around. You’ll hear the polite, “you look nice” and you’re gonna have to live with the quiet certainty that you don’t, not really, and that you’ll never quite measure up to what he’s used to seeing. To her—

You swallow hard. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do that to you. Not outwardly, at least.

And if he did… Well.

“I bought something,” you say as an opener, the words tumbling out in a rush as soon as you get a glimpse of his form on the screen. You’re rocking back on your heel, a little awkward as you stand there in front of your small vanity table even with your phone laid flat, front camera pointing upwards. “You remember the going-away party I’ll be attending two days from now, right?”

“Of course, the one for your secondary school batchmate.” Sylus replies easily, voice reverberating through the tinny speakers. Even at an angle, you can see the confused tilt of his head. “Is it on the ceiling, sweetie? What am I looking at, exactly?”

“No, smartass. I—” You press your lips together, eyes flitting upward, as if courage might be dangling from the ceiling in question.

Fuck, this is a bad idea. I can’t do this.

“It’s–I bought something for myself. I mean, I bought her a gift too, obviously. But I also bought an outfit. For the party.” 

There. 

He blinks, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head. Realization dawns on his face, a knowing smile beginning to form. His voice dips, a teasing edge to it as he purrs, “Oh? Well then, save me from the suspense, sweetheart.”

“I–I’m getting to it, okay?” It comes out a little snappier than you intend, nerves flaring hot. You sigh, feeling your shoulders drop. “I’m just… Don’t be—ugh, just don’t make a big deal out of this, alright?” 

You keep your eyes off the screen, unable to face him directly.

But when he speaks, his tone carries only a quiet understanding of your struggle.

Of course he understands. He always does.

He speaks; and it’s slow and measured—as if he’s coaxing a terrified, cornered animal out of hiding. 

“Show me.” Trust me.

And so with a heavy exhale through the nose, you flip the front camera towards your direction, revealing the bare expanse of gooseflesh skin—

… And the flimsy one-piece that clings to your body like wet plastic. 

It dips low between the valley of your breasts and stops short just halfway up your thigh. The material is a gauzy organza; see-through and light, in seafoam green. Barely leaving anything to the imagination as it reveals the dusky coral swimsuit from underneath the fabric and the hot flush that spreads across your chest like wildfire. Your fists clench and unclench behind your back – hiding the physical manifestation of your rising anxiety – while you shift your weight from one foot to the other. 

There's a deafening silence. 

The knots in your stomach grow tighter, creeping its way past your lungs. Your fingers tremble as cold sweat breaks out across your skin, chilling you from the inside. You feel horribly exposed. So exposed it’s almost unbearable. 

And you still can’t bring yourself to look at him.

Your thoughts stumble, desperate to cling to anything solid, and a faint memory surfaces—a passage from an org pamphlet you’ve skimmed through back in college, something that has to do with “self-perception.”

The flesh does not define you. 

Your body is but a facet of who you are. You are as inconsequential as the earth beneath your feet, and as important as stardust in the universe.

A low, guttural sound cuts through the stillness, and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. 

You—

“Look at me.”

A searing heat laces the cadence of his voice. It sounds restless—like a flame unchecked, rapidly growing into a raging inferno. Stifling in the way it pulls the air from your lungs, like a suckerpunch to the gut.

Your primordial instinct is to flee. But right at that very moment, you're no different from a paralyzed insect caught in an inescapable web with the way you’re stood frozen in place. Every instinct to run is smothered by the mere inflection in his voice. 

—are all. And that is all there is to be. 

“My sweet little dove,” it’s almost a croon, the way the words curl around you like wisps of smoke. Sickly saccharine… downright serpentine. “Won’t you look at me when I talk to you?”

And like a marionette on a string, you obey. 

-

Time seems to stop to a standstill the moment your eyes meet his. 

Sylus’ gaze sinks into you. Loaded. Heavy. A crazed glint, almost—to it. Even to someone like you who's embarrassingly clueless about the nuances of attraction and wholly inexperienced in its depths can see it as plain as day.

Carnal desire. In its purest form. 

Sylus looks at you as though you’re something to be coveted. Devoured. 

A small, fearful noise slips past your lips, and the twin crimson flames burn brighter.

“You’d like to know what I think?”

Yes.

No?

He sees the war in your eyes, and a throaty chuckle escapes him—raw and breathy. “Maybe so?”

You give him the tiniest nod, and the grin on his face sharpens into something wanton, something far more licentious. It slinks in like a fever, stirring something deep within you. Something as old as time.

Sylus opens his mouth. 

You brace yourself for the inevitable.

-

-

-

A ring slices through the room like a hot knife. Just like that, you can breathe again. 

____

Your saving grace comes in the form of a phone call that grounds you back to reality.

It’s a friend, one of the party guests, asking for directions to the venue. You’re listening with one ear on the receiver, answering each question robotically—your voice a controlled calm on the surface, a stark contrast to the thoughts running amok inside your head. 

The words blur into background noise, muffled and distant, like a TV commercial playing on low volume in another room.

The moment you hang up, a suffocating hush swallows the room whole. You’re left alone with nothing but heat kindling low in your gut. The ghost of the heavy exchange from earlier stays with you, thrumming beneath your skin, hot and pulsating. 

You don’t know what to do with yourself. The abrupt suddenness of it all gnaws at you, its weight driving you toward an early retreat—maybe a long night’s rest will do wonders and help you get your shit together, who knows. 

You slip between the sheets... but not before retrieving your, ah, trusty little companion from its hiding spot in the bedside drawer.

You didn’t want to assume… You don’t want to expect anything from him, but you have needs. 

God, but you do.

Your body feels like flint struck against steel, sparked ablaze by just a handful of words. Words weaved into a vivid imagery from the mouth of your… friend?? 

(Something more?) 

The uncertainty wrecks you, every nerve alight with tension. And yet it’s the same uncertainty that roots you there. Hesitating. 

So. You lie back, pushing the sheets away from your fevered skin, and just—lay there. Staring at the ceiling. The plaster cracks form maps you trace with your eyes, as if searching for answers in their tangled routes. You count your breaths, one after the other, as though the repetition could calm your racing heartbeat. 

It feels ridiculous, almost. You’re a grown adult, acting like a teenager with a demented crush. It’s more than that, though—it’s deeper, messier, and completely illogical. 

But it’s not something you can figure out tonight, not in this state. So you stop trying. 

Instead, you switch on your little toy, open an incognito browser, and let yourself succumb to what your body’s been screaming at you for the past fucking hour. 

You feel… You feel weird about using anything Sylus-related to get yourself off. That’s not to say you haven’t, before, back when he was just another eye candy from a measly mobile game. When it was just another infatuation. 

But now? Now it feels all levels of wrong, like you’re toeing some invisible line. Worse, it feels like you’re exploiting something fragile, testing the limits of a bond already stretched thin.

So, any content related to that man stays off the fap fodder. You’re not that far gone. You think. 

Instead, you scroll through your bookmarks tab, a shaky sigh leaves your lips as you let the hard vibrations of your trusty rabbit glide from inside your thighs, up… up to your warm center, in between the juncture of your legs.

You pause on a Toji smut fic—one amongst, uhh, dozens in your folder. It’s not the same, you know this, but you’re settling for the next best thing in your current circumstance. 

Since what you really want, who you’d rather much have, isn’t—

…

Your phone glitches. 

The Chrome app crashes.

And what do you think you’re doing?

Your heart stutters a beat, and you stop breathing. 

You can’t answer. The words don’t come. But he doesn’t wait for you to try.

Put on your headphones.

You’re done with that. Tonight, tomorrow, any other night. Do you understand me?

The uncharacteristic curtness of the message sends a jolt through you, and a blush overtakes your entire body. You hesitate, just for a second.

Now.

You scramble to obey, fumbling for your earbuds, slipping them on with shaking hands. 

The moment the bluetooth connects, the game boots up on its own—straight to an irate Sylus, looking royally pissed-off. 

“Sy-Sy—” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I—I don’t—”

"Oh, so back to Sy-Sy now, are we?"

The mocking lilt in his voice cuts sharper than the glare he fixes on your dimly lit face. Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you entirely. 

You want to explain, to defend yourself. To…

“I see what you read. What you watch,” he begins, voice cutting and mean. “In the dead of night, when you think you’re alone. When you think it’s safe. That no one hears the sweet moans spill so sinfully from your lips.”

His words pierce through the air like an arrow; you feel his overwhelming presence take over, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, every exhale grazing the sensitive shell of your ear.

“Oh, but I do,” he murmurs, the ambiguity in his tone somehow making it worse. “I hear everything. I know everything about you, kitten.”

A shiver races down your spine, your body betraying you as he speaks.

“What makes you tick,” he continues, his voice a sinister caress. “What leaves you writhing, desperate for more. The way your breathing quickens… the way your body trembles under the weight of your own pleasure.”

You’re struggling now—each breath harder to catch than the last.

“And the way that pretty little mouth of yours falls open in a silent gasp, right after you come undone.”

His words are a noose, tightening with every syllable. Your head spins as the air seems to grow heavier, saturated with the tension between you.

“But it’s never for me, is it?”

“I—I’m sorry… I don’t want to assume—”

“Assume?” His voice darkens, any hint of softness replaced with something colder, harsher. “Again with your presumptions.”

He leans closer, his tone dropping to a command that leaves no room for doubt. “From now on, the only thing you’ll need to believe is when I tell you you’re mine.”

You blink at him dumbly. His grin turns into something wicked—caustic and biting—as he cocks his head. Derisive.  

“Do you understand?”

Your head bobs in a weak, reflexive nod.

“Words, poppet.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good.” His tone shifts, smooth like languid amber, yet no less imposing. “Now, my love,” he coos, savoring the way your eyes tear up with desperation, “show me how you touch yourself.”

____

“Shi–iit,” he hisses. “This wet already?” 

You attempt to close your legs, shame rising like a tide, but freeze halfway when Sylus lets out a low, warning growl.

“Try that, and we’ll stop,” he warns. “I won’t repeat myself twice, pet.”

The weight of his words pins you in place, and you let out a helpless whimper.

“Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his tone gentler—coaxing. “It’s just me.”

His gaze burns into you, relentless, but something tender bleeds into it. 

The glow of the screen casts shadows along the sharp angles of his jaw, the upward tick of his mouth a dangerous contradiction—part teasing, part command. His sanguine eyes gleam with a mix of hunger and control, a look that leaves no room for hesitation.

You give in.

Your body relaxes under the weight of his stare, the fight draining from your limbs. It’s not submission—it’s surrender, pure and unfiltered, the kind that leaves you bare and vulnerable.

Sylus watches you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Not soft, not kind, but triumphant—like a predator relishing the moment its prey stops running.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise dripping from his tongue like honey. “That’s better.”

____

Sade’s Smooth Operator starts to play in the background as you catch your breath.

You let out a tired giggle, swiping a hand down your sweat-drenched face, earbuds still in place. “Ugh—don’t piss me off.”

You hear a resounding chuckle. 

Gently, he asks, “Alright, little dove?” There’s a beat of hesitation before he adds, quieter now, “Did I go too far?”

You curl onto your side, phone clutched in your hand like a prayer. Sylus’ gaze peers back at you through the screen, a dangerously soft expression on his face that you don’t want to identify. 

“It's perfect, Sy,” you say, your grin tender and bittersweet, heart full of something you won't name.

____

It’s one in the morning. The dim glow of your laptop screen flickers across your face, spilling into the darkened room, casting shadows along the wall. You lean back against it, the end credits of Everything Everywhere All At Once rolling quietly in the background.

 

Silence settles between you and Sylus like a warm blanket.

“Do you think it’s… like that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, unwilling to shatter the stillness of the moment. “All versions of ourselves colliding and coexisting at the same time?”

The question hangs there; he doesn’t rush an answer, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s choosing not to. 

When he finally speaks, it’s with the same quiet restraint, his voice threading softly through the air. 

“I’d like to think that in this vast expanse of the universe, there’s something for you and me.”

There’s a trace of something dreadfully optimistic in his voice, and it makes your chest tighten. You blink a few times, glancing upwards. 

The moment lingers, delicate in its quietness, until you instinctively reach for your phone. A quick swipe reveals a new addition to your shared playlist.

This Is A Life by Son Lux and Mitski.

A small, genuine smile tugs at your lips as you press play. The haunting strains of the song pour into the room, filling the spaces words can’t seem to touch.

“Sneaky,” you murmur, your gaze sliding back to Sylus’ face on the screen. His expression is unreadable, save for the faintest twitch of his mouth, the barest hint of a smile.

“Thought it fit the mood,” he says simply.

And it does. The music sweeps over you, soft and wistful, like the moment itself.

____

The balcony feels like a lifeboat drifting away from the chaos inside. The music, the chatter, the endless parade of tequila shots—it all fades to a dull hum as you step into the cool night air. 

Out here, the world feels wider, the sky a little darker, and you can breathe without choking on the weight of the party.

She’s already there, of course. The friend of a friend. An acquaintance by definition, but someone who feels more of a comrade in these fleeting moments away from the crowd. You’ve seen her like this most times—leaning on the railing, a cigarette perched between her fingers, its faint ember glowing against the night. You don’t need an invitation to approach her.

“You mind if I bum one?”

She shrugs, silently offering the box to you. You take one.

“Fun party, huh?” you comment after two puffs, the lit end of the stick briefly catching the glow of the skyline. Your voice is loaded with the kind of irony only shared by those watching the world from the outside in.

“It always is with them around,” she snorts, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. Her voice carries the warmth of familiarity, from an observation you’ve both shared before. 

You exhale a soft laugh, the sound barely audible over the low hum of the city below.

The silence that follows isn’t just companionable—it’s necessary. A pause to recalibrate, to let the noise, and the lights, and the weight of too many people melt away. Neither of you feels the need to fill it. Words would only dilute the reprieve.

And then, unexpectedly:

“You look happy.”

The words land like a stone dropping into still water, rippling through the quiet. You glance at her, startled by the way her eyes narrow slightly, the way her tone suggests she’s already drawn her own conclusions.  

“You ‘ave someone?”

You weren’t ready for that. You blink at her, surprised she’s noticed anything about you—surprised, too, that it’s written plainly enough for anyone to notice.

“...Yeah,” you mumble, looking away. The admission feels strange in its simplicity. “Yeah, I do.”

She smiles at that—easy but genuine, as if your happiness has spilled over and warmed her, too. “That’s good.” 

There’s sincerity in her voice, unfiltered and direct, as she adds, “You look happier.”

You don’t reply, but her words settle somewhere deep, in the quiet places you thought were hidden. 

And for once, you don’t mind being seen.

____

The party has left you drunker than you’ve been in ages. 

As soon as the celebrant spots the two of you in the corner looking like a sad pair of eyesores, she quickly remedies it with copious amounts of stone-cold stingers. You try to protest, but in the end, it’s futile against the cacophony of cheers and the face of societal peer pressure. 

So now you stagger inside the condo building, looking every bit like a drowned rat dragged in from the storm. A weary guard from reception following closely behind, his patience visibly fraying as you giggle your way toward the elevator.

“‘m fine!” you insist, words slurring together as you attempt to shoo him off with a lazy wave. To emphasize your point, you pinch your fingers together, holding them inches apart. “Just this much to drink, see?”

He doesn’t respond, his expression coming across resigned and frustrated. You can almost hear the thought running through his mind: I don’t get paid enough for this. 

With a long-suffering sigh, he finally relents, letting you totter into the elevator alone.

UG… P… 4…. 5…… Oh! Here you are. 

Rivulets of water drip down from your rain-soaked hair, trailing icy paths down your neck as you stagger down the narrow hallway. Your vision blurs, making everything double—no, triple—as you fumble your way to the left, stopping in front of the door of 601—wait, no, 603. 

You squint hard at the numbers, your head throbbing with the effort, but the stinging in your eyes and the stubborn clumping of your lashes make it way harder for you to make sense of it all. 

Your waterlogged clutch feels heavier than it should, and your trembling fingers struggle to find the zipper pull that’s somehow become the bane of your existence. You huff, muttering incoherently to yourself, your throat tight and raw as a burning lump starts to rise. An annoyingly persistent buzzing from inside your bag adds to your mounting frustration.

With an angry yank, you finally manage to tear the bag open, water splashing off it in tiny droplets. 

“Aha!” you exclaim, though the triumph is short-lived as your hands shake even harder when you pull out your phone. It’s the source of the buzzing apparently, the bright screen momentarily blinding you. 

You try to unlock it—once, twice, three times—nearly getting locked out before the numbers finally click.

The notifications hit you like the mars lights of a freight train. Texts. Lots of them. You scroll through clumsily, the device slipping slightly from your grip as you snort gracelessly.

Sylus. Of course.

The words on the screen blur and twist, but you don’t need clarity to know the progression of each message—ranging from mild curiosity, to slight worry, to exasperatedly concerned. 

The syllables of his pet name echo faintly in your muddled head, a small, fleeting comfort against the weight pressing down on your chest. Sy-Sy. Sy-Sy. Sy-Syyyyy—

Synchronous with your erratic breathing, you dig through your bag with a heavy hand, each failed attempt sends you spiraling lower.

Another ping jolts you from your drunken haze: 

How are you feeling? Did you just get back?

“I can’t—I can’t find my damn keys!” 

The words slips out as a frustrated cry.

Inner pocket, left side. Answer me, sweetheart.

His words flash across the screen just as your fumbling fingers find the keys exactly where he said they’d be. 

A tear burns a path down your cheek as you let out a half-hearted chuckle, mumbling, “Can I even function without you?” 

How long has it been since you could manage something like this on your own? Has he become an extension of your mind?

The door’s stubborn resistance only adds to your unraveling. After several failed attempts—your fingers too wound up to grip the key properly—you finally twist the lock and push it open, stumbling inside, into the darkness. 

“I’m a mess, Sylus,” you whisper, voice thick with tears as your head spins, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. 

The world feels heavy and muffled, like you’re trapped behind a fogged window. You know you’re a sight to behold—shoeless, drunk, drenched like some stray that wandered too far into the rain.

“I’ve noticed,” he says, his voice warm and steady, cutting through the quiet void of the room. It takes a second for the words to sink in, for your scattered mind to piece together that, somehow, you’ve already opened the game in the middle of all your fumbling. Automatic. Like second nature.

You stare at him, trembling and pitiful, like a kid lost in a crowd. Your bottom lip quivers, and you hate how small you feel under his gaze.

You see concern pooling in the depths of Sylus’ eyes. That and something… desperate.

You sniff, rubbing at your wet cheeks with pruning fingers, clinging to humor like a lifeline. "Don’t you do anything else?” you mumble, your voice fraying at the edges. “Like... live your own life or something? You spend so much time with me...” You force out a weak laugh, bitter and jagged. “It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.”

Your laugh cracks halfway through, more like a sob than anything. It’s pathetic—you’re pathetic. 

And yet, you can’t stop. Even if it stings your throat.

Sylus’ response comes, and his voice is solid—unwavering. He doesn’t flinch like you do. “I don’t get sick of you, sweetheart. Not in the slightest.”

Something in you cracks, spilling over. “I really like you,” you murmur, voice steeped with emotion. “You’re the brightest light in my life. You’re… you’re everything.”

A flash of lightning cuts through the room, illuminating your tear-stained face.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, Sylus calls out your name.

It’s quiet, reverent, and it feels like a tether pulling you back from the brink.

You crumple down the floor, clutching your phone like it’s the only thing holding you together. In the silence that follows, all you can hear is your ragged breathing and the quiet hum of his presence on the other end of the line.

“I’m here,” he tells you softly. “I’ve got you.”

____

This is a life

(Every possibility)

Free from destiny 

(I choose you, and you choose me) 

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @nicora04 @blueberrysquire @love-anteros @fiyori @peachystea @slyfoxtsu @tinyweebsstuff @i2sannie (i spend so much time cross-checking the tags this is tiring lmao)

[alyssa-the-witch]

Offerings and their Removal

Disclosure, this may not apply to everyone! Cherry pick it if that works for you, or take none at all. Just no hate or arguments in the comments!

Definition- Offering - Something given to an entity or deity to show appreciation. This can also be something done or said to show appreciation.

~~~~~Types of Offerings~~~~~

Food- In ancient tradition, specifically Greek, the first bites of food were thrown into the fire to be sent through the gods by smoke. However, this isn't an option for many people these days. Alternative methods are favored.

Fire - The old methods are still applicable if available. If one has a bon fire or fire-place/hearth, the first bite of food can still be "smoked" , per-say.

Prayer - A small prayer can be said over food before the first bite is taken. Just a simple "Entity/spirit, please accept this offering, Blessed Be" or something similar can suffice. This, for some deities like Hestia can be done at the end too. This is more convenient for a hidden practice and for those who can't afford to waste food.

Altar- If you have an altar, or ever a small bowl, they can place the first bite of food there for the deity entity too.

Objects and Trinkets- Just like us, deities/entities love little trinkets. Whether it be a few coins you find nice to a statue or an engraved candle. Whatever it my be, it can be given to an entity with a prayer and/or on an altar in their honor.

Removables - There are some things that can be placed on altar and taken off. I like to call them removables. When placed on an altar, one could say "Entity/Deity, bless this object, with your energy and blessings." let it sit for a moment or cleanse with incense. If a clothing item, accessory, or perfume, you can take it off and use/wear it. Just remember to put it back to refresh the energy and discuss before taking it off for the first time.

Actions - There are also things that one can do in offer of a deity or entity. They can be small things, like prayers, to full-on rituals.

Prayer- This is probably the easiest in my opinion. It can be a small "Hey entity/deity, I appreciate you." on the go, or reciting a hymn or a prayer by the altar. It's incredibly diverse and can meld to any practice.

Chores - This can apply more to some deities than others, but just Keeping your room and house tidy can be done in honor of a deity. Altars specifically can be cleaned or re-arranged as an offering

Art-In ancient times, arts of every kind were offered to deities ant spirits. And it can fit most anyone's style.

Music- written specifically or just a song you think reminds you of them. Drawings/Paintings- try thing that reminds you of the deity or how you see them can be drawn or painted. Others- Pottery, Dance, Crocheting or handy crafts, or even more. All can be done in offering to a deity. Specifics - If you have done research into who you're offering to, you can offer specific things. Sleep for Hypnos, Baking bread for Hestia, Rehearsing if in the arts for Dionysus, etc. Self Care- This not a lot of people think applies, however the gas most want you to be kind to your self. whether it be a bath with oils, flower petals, and all the works to just brushing your teeth at night. All would make the gods/entities very proud of you!!

~~~~~Disposal~~~~~

This is something a bit more difficult; You did the thing, you think it's time, now what do you do? A decent chunk of this section was taken from @khaire-traveler. Obviously, actions cannot be "removed" Once the action is complete, the offering is sent.

Food- khaire narrowed it into 4 options that I really like. Just remember, when on an alter, don't let it sit too long for health concerns (rotting, bugs, etc.)

Consume - After praying aver the food like I had mentioned before.

Bum - Also mentioned before, but can be done after sitting at an altar for awhile.

Bury- Food offerings. if safe for local wildlife, can be buried. "My logic in burying them (only if environmentally safe) is returning the offering to the earth in a sense." (khair-3) (Yes its MLA cited, AP capstone has rotted my brain) If that fits Your practice, it is a good option.

Dispose, - This, like everything else here, must be done with respect. Clarify with the entity/deity that you aren't doing so out of disrespect, rather because this is your preferred disposal style or your only option

Objects/Art Pieces- If you have this ability, talk to your entity/deity about it, clarify there is no disrespect in the removal, and give the deity some time to de-attach to it. Slowly, the energy will fade from the object when kept away from the altar. This doesn't need to a ritual, but can be if that's what you prefer

Thank you for reading! This is my first fore into the pagan-sphere, so if this is something a lot of people like, I'll continue! Blessed Be, Alyssa the Witch!

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt.7 - march 20 2025

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10 wordcount: 2637

You woke up with a pounding headache and a vague sense of unease. The events of last night blurred together. You groaned, burying your face in the pillow as your phone buzzed on the bedside table.

Max: “Bet Lando broke his personal record for post-win hookups last night. What’s the count? 10? 15?”

You stared at the screen, your stomach tightening. A sharp pang of something you couldn’t name struck you. You knew exactly how many girls Lando had kissed the previous night—just one. You.

After a moment, you typed back.

You: “Dunno, wasn’t keeping tabs. Ask him yourself.”

Max’s response came almost immediately.

Max: “You’re supposed to be the reliable one. Useless.”

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand again. Squinting, you grabbed it and opened the message.

Lando: Hope your head’s not as bad as mine.

You stared at the screen, debating how to respond. Did he mean the hangover or… something else? Finally, you typed back something neutral.

You: I’m surviving. You?

His reply came almost instantly.

Lando: Barely. Who thought tequila was a good idea?

You smiled faintly, Lando seemed determined to brush past it, that had worked well for you the last time. 

-

Later that afternoon, your phone buzzed again.

Max: Lando just arrived back in Monaco, he’s still kinda off. Thought winning the first race would’ve had him buzzing. The break up must’ve done a bigger number on him that I thought. You good though?

You frowned, rereading the message. Lando had seemed fine—at least, before the kiss.

Shaking the thought away, you quickly texted Max back.

You: Yeah, I’m fine. He probably just overdid it. You know how he gets after races.

Max responded almost immediately:

Max: Yeah, maybe. I told him to chill, but you know him. Anyway, see you later

-

The morning after your return, Dylan surprised you by showing up at your apartment with coffee.

“I figured you’d need this,” he said, handing over your favorite latte as he kissed your cheek.

You smiled, grateful for the gesture, definitely feeling the jetlag. Thought I’d come by and steal you for breakfast.”

The idea was sweet, and you agreed, letting him whisk you away to your favorite café. Over avocado toast and coffee refills, Dylan asked about the party.

“So, big celebration for Lando’s win?” Dylan asked, his tone casual as he leaned back in his chair, stirring his coffee idly. 

“Yeah, it was...” You hesitated, thinking back to the night. The flashing lights, the laughter, the heat of Lando’s breath on your skin. “...eventful.”

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Eventful how?”

You felt your stomach tighten. This was it. Do you tell him about the kiss? Would he care? Should he care? “Lando broke up with Magui,” you said instead, your voice steady.

His brows shot up, but there was no real surprise in his expression. “Well, that doesn’t shock me. Those two were always cold.”

“Yeah... and, um, he—he kissed me at the party.” You blurted it out before you could overthink it. It hung in the air between you, and you couldn’t read Dylan’s face.

He didn’t react the way you expected. Instead of anger or jealousy, he just nodded, as if you’d told him Lando tried a new hairstyle. “That doesn’t surprise me either.”

“What?” you said, your voice louder than you intended.

Dylan shrugged. “I mean, it’s Lando.”

His reaction knocked the breath out of you. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on.” He smiled, as if you were being naive. “He’s been protective of you since day one. You’re basically his second shadow. I’ve always just... figured that was part of the deal with being with you.”

You stared at him, feeling a strange mix of confusion and irritation. Part of the deal? That didn’t sound like love or care—it sounded indifferent. “So... you’re not mad?”

Dylan reached across the table and took your hand. “No, I’m not mad. I trust you. Lando’s just—Lando. He does what he wants, but I know you’re with me.”

His grip was warm, his smile steady, but something about it annoyed you. You pulled your hand away to sip your coffee, pretending to study the foam swirl at the top.

His nonchalance sent a flicker of irritation through you. Shouldn’t he care more about this? Shouldn’t it bother him that Lando had kissed you? Should it bother him?

-

You didn’t travel to the next weekend’s race in China, having to catch up on work instead. Max’s texts, however, kept you in the loop.

Max: Your boy’s back to his old ways. Can’t keep up with how many girls he’s talking to tonight.

Your chest tightened as you read the message. You could practically hear Max’s laughter through the text. It didn’t take much to imagine Lando at another party, charming his way through a crowd.

You: That didn’t take long.

Max: What did you expect? It’s Lando.

You weren’t sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing, but before you could process any further or reply, your phone buzzed again.

Lando: Missing you this race weekend x

— February 17, 2016

It was past curfew at the team hotel, where you and Lando were staying for a karting tournament. The day’s races had gone well, and tomorrow was the final race day. It was a rare occasion Max hadn’t qualified for the tournament, leaving you with two instead of the usual three. You sat on the edge of Lando’s bed, the faint buzz from the drinks some of the guys had smuggled in during the team dinner making the room feel warmer than it was.

Lando leaned back against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him. He fiddled with the string of his hoodie, but you caught him glancing at you every so often, like he was debating saying something.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“Can I ask you something?” he began, his voice careful.

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “When you start like that, it’s usually something weird.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “No, it’s not weird. Just... you know, the last time we talked about that guy—your first time—how’s that going?”

You blinked, caught off guard. You had hoped the subject would never come up again, but you knew he was just trying to be a good friend. “Oh. Um...We broke up.” You shrugged, looking down at your hands, it hadn’t been a serious relationship, so you weren’t too upset about it. ‘’So, no improvements?’’ Lando grinned. You groaned in response. “I mean, it wasn’t terrible or anything. Just... I don’t know. Everyone makes it sound like it’s supposed to be this big deal, right? Like fireworks and angels singing.” 

“And it wasn’t?” he asked, clearly amused.

You let out a dry laugh. “It was... fine. But it didn’t really feel amazing, you know? I thought maybe something was wrong with me.”

His brows furrowed, and he shifted to face you fully. “Trust me, It’s not you,” he said firmly. 

“Yeah, well, maybe he just wasn’t great at it,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. But the words hung there, more truthful than you intended.

He smirked, but there was an undercurrent of something serious in his expression. “It should be good for both people.”

The comment made your stomach twist, the way he said it—so genuine, so matter-of-fact—caught you off guard. You glanced up, meeting his gaze for a split second, as you turned the tables. “And how would you know?” you asked, aiming for teasing but faltering at the end.

He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Because I’ve done it,” he answered casually, his tone steady but quiet.

The casualness of his answer shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did. You blinked, your stomach flipping unexpectedly. “Oh,” was all you managed to say.

Your mind raced. Of course, he had. You weren’t sure why you were even surprised—Lando had always been good-looking and charismatic in a way that drew people to him effortlessly. You pictured the last girl you’d seen him with, a petite brunette with long legs and perfect skin. She’d had her arm slung around his neck at a karting party a few months ago, whispering in his ear as he’d grinned down at her.

The thought sent a strange pang through your chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been good with her. Of course, he had. Lando wasn’t the kind of guy who’d fumble through anything.

“Does that bother you?” he asked, breaking the silence, his voice a mix of curiosity and hesitation.

“What?” you said quickly looking up, your cheeks heating. “No. Why would it?”

He shrugged, his eyes scanning your face. “I don’t know. You’re just... quiet.”

You shook your head, brushing it off. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Was it fireworks and angels singing?” you quickly recollected yourself, teasing, though your curiosity was genuine.

Lando let out a low laugh, his cheeks darkening slightly. “Not exactly. The first time, I was so nervous I could barely think straight. The second time was better, but it’s not just about that. It’s better when you actually care about the person. When it’s not just... random.”

His words settled over you, heavy with meaning. For a moment, you wondered if he was talking about someone specific, but you didn’t dare ask.

Lando tilted his head, his expression thoughtful.  “Like, yeah, it depends on the person, but… when it’s good, it’s like everything just clicks. You’re not overthinking or second-guessing—it just… works.” he continued, leaning back against the headboard.

You nodded slowly, trying to picture what he meant. “Must be nice,” you murmured. “To actually enjoy it.”

Lando’s gaze softened, and he leaned forward slightly. “You will,” he said quietly. “With the right person.”

The way he said it made your chest tighten, and you found yourself holding your breath. His eyes lingered on yours, the space between you suddenly feeling charged.

Lando tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “Did he make you feel comfortable?” he asked, his voice dropping slightly.

You blinked at the sudden shift, your heart skipping at his seriousness. “Uh… I guess? I mean, he wasn’t… mean or anything, but he didn’t really ask me what I wanted either.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, just barely, but he stayed silent for a beat too long before saying, “You shouldn’t have to guess. He should’ve cared enough to ask, to, like… figure it out with you.”

You bit your lip, his words sinking in more than you wanted to admit.

He leaned forward slightly. “Look, I’m not saying this to be weird, but... you should figure out what you like. What makes you feel good. What… turns you on.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your cheeks flush. “That’s… easy for you to say,” you muttered, focusing on the thread in your sweatshirt.

“I’m serious,” he pressed, his tone a little gentler. 

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze for a brief, charged moment. He wasn’t teasing or trying to make you feel awkward; he genuinely meant it.

“Anyway,” he said, his tone lighter now. “You should really find someone who knows what they’re doing next time. No more amateurs.”

You laughed, grateful for the change in tone. “I’ll keep that in mind, Norris.”

“Good,” he said, grinning.

Lando leaned back on his elbows, a lazy smirk on his face. “Alright, real talk,” he said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “Did he even go down on you?”

You froze, his question catching you completely off guard. “Lando!” you hissed, your face heating up as you looked around the empty room, as if someone might overhear.

“What?” he said, shrugging like it was the most casual thing in the world. “It’s a legit question.”

You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to find the words. “No, he didn’t,” you finally muttered, crossing your arms defensively.

He made a face, somewhere between disbelief and disappointment. “Figures. Most guys don’t know what they’re doing.” He tilted his head, studying you. “You should find someone who actually gives a shit about making it good for you.”

You looked away, your stomach flipping at the casual confidence in his tone. Images of him with other girls flitted through your mind—hearing the rumors, catching glimpses of the way they looked at him. He probably was good, wasn’t he?

“Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “maybe I just need someone to teach me what’s supposed to be good.”

His smirk widened, but there was something softer beneath it now. “Maybe. Or maybe you just need to stop settling for guys who don’t try.”

For the rest of the night, you stayed up talking about everything and nothing. But as you finally drifted off to sleep in the makeshift bed you’d built on his floor, his words replayed in your mind, accompanied by flashes of Lando smiling at some girl, his hands on her waist, his lips on hers. And for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, the thought made your stomach flip.

-

The next evening, the team dinner spilled over into a small party, celebrating the final race day. You’d been nursing a couple of drinks, the warm buzz loosening your usual reservations. Somewhere along the way, you found yourself talking to a racer from a rival team, he had placed second, behind Lando. He was charming enough, leaning in a little closer with every laugh, his hand brushing yours as you spoke.

Maybe it was the leftover thoughts from your conversation with Lando the night before, or maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins, but when the guy leaned in, you didn’t stop him. His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, and then more confident as you responded.

Before the kiss could deepen, though, a familiar hand landed lightly on your shoulder. “Not him,” Lando’s voice murmured in your ear, firm but calm.

You blinked, pulling back from the karter and turning to face Lando. He stood there, his expression unreadable but his eyes unwavering. “Come on,” he added, his tone softer now. “Let’s get you some air.”

You didn’t protest. Maybe it was the slight pull of his hand on your arm or the way his gaze seemed to cut through the haze of the evening, but you let him guide you out of the room.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you muttered once you were in the quieter hallway, the cool air sobering you slightly. The one time Max wasn’t there, Lando had to act as the protective brother.

Lando raised an eyebrow, his mouth curving into a small, knowing smile. “Didn’t I?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “He wasn’t that bad.”

“No,” Lando admitted, leaning casually against the wall. “But not good enough”

You wanted to argue, but the look in his eyes—half teasing, half serious—made your resolve falter.

He chuckled softly, tilting his head toward the vending machine down the hall. “C’mon, Let’s get you some water before you start thinking about kissing any more idiots tonight.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head as you followed him. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Lando just shrugged, his grin growing. “That’s why you keep me around.”

-

WN: almost a SMAU with all the texts 🤪🤪 oop sorry in 2016 Lando wasn’t mkarting anymore but minor detail for the story lol, just couldn’t have her be in formula 4 or something. Also let me know if you think it’s going too slow, but actually, too late, shits going down in the next chapter and I think it’s going to be 10 chapters, eventhough I’m going to miss this story a lot so maybe I’ll make it longer if I think of more storyline. Took a bit long this time, so trying to upload tomorrow to make up for it! Suggestions about anything are always welcome 💕💕 Hope i didnt forget anyone for the taglist, let me know if i did

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05@lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles@chaoswithus@motorsportloverf1 @therovanperaastonmartini@acesofspadess @widow-cevans @irisesinthegarden