#I really liked the expression in that painting

[clouds-of-wings]

I came across this (without the last addition, I thought it was real art) in my archive again and once again started wondering why her lower legs are like that. It makes no sense with what the picture is supposed to express, so I thought: "Maybe this is supposed to express that she's not really human either but some kind of a ghost or something? But having the legs clip through each other like in a buggy video game is a weird way to express that, especially when what makes him threatening and inhuman is all the "evil" black stuff. It seems to mix two different visual languages - expressing inhumanity and threat by making him look demonic and her vaguely... body horror-y malfunctioning..?" When I originally reblogged it I eventually threw up my hands and thought: "Whatever, it looks cool at least! It doesn't have to make sense!"

So I checked the notes again. The "source link" is an Instagram post that is by now deleted and Hive Moderation seems to think the picture is "pretty likely" (65%) to be AI, though it isn't sure.

I guess the reason why the visual language is confusing might be that there's no artistic intention behind it. Although human artists can also not have their artistic language sorted out.

Btw, just in general, just because someone writes "oil on canvas" or something unfortunately doesn't mean it isn't AI. Sometimes people lie. I have seen very obviously AI pics titled something like "oil painting, now in a private collection". I think when I originally reblogged this I hadn't had that experience yet. Most AI scams who pass themselves off as artists are very low effort, but not all are.

I guess what tripped the AI up is stuff like this in Ferri's original art:

Her leg is weird too, but here it's in a sense that is immediately understandable. The picture is called "Apollo and Daphne". If you know Greek myth you know that Daphne is a nymph, so a nature spirit. The AI obviously can't understand that, it only sees Weird Shit going on with her leg.

Roberto Ferri, “Like Poison” (𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟥).

[solxamber]

ive been relistening to the villains' songs like be prepared and poor unfortunate souls and it got me wondering if i could request for the overblotted boy reacting to a reader, whos usually pretty docile and a textbook example of a "good person", singing their respective villains' songs. Except that reader's extremely expressive through their voice and movements. so much so that they look and sound so villainous that its a complete 180 from their usual self. maybe reader was just vibing to themselves and their inner theater nerd came out and was just having the time of their life and the boys just so happen to be around and heard them. how would they react? :D

Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil reacting to reader singing their Villain songs

a/n; i know overblot gang was requested but evil queen, maleficent and hades don't have villain songs so i hope this is fine!

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle wasn’t sure what drew him to the courtyard that afternoon. Perhaps it was the faint melody drifting through the air, or the infectious energy radiating from the sound. But when he turned the corner, what he saw rooted him to the spot.

There you were, standing on one of the stone benches with an invisible spotlight illuminating your every move. Your normally calm, good-natured demeanor was gone, replaced by a commanding presence that demanded attention.

You sang “Who’s been painting my roses red?�� with a voice that was equal parts theatrical and menacing. Your gestures were grand, your expression shifting effortlessly between outrage and cruel amusement as if you were a monarch addressing trembling subjects. It was captivating. It was terrifying. It was… perfect.

Riddle’s breath hitched as he watched you embody the very spirit of the Queen of Hearts. The fervor in your movements, the intensity in your voice—it was as though you had stepped out of one of his cherished childhood storybooks. You pointed an accusatory finger at a nonexistent offender, your voice dripping with venom as you declared, “Off with their heads!”

His heart pounded against his ribcage. Was this the same person who handed out snacks to dormmates without asking for anything in return? Who was always ready with a kind word, a helping hand, or a soft laugh?

And yet… this was you too. A side of you he’d never seen. Bold, commanding, unyielding.

Riddle swallowed hard, feeling heat creep up his neck. It was almost unfair how effortlessly you seemed to channel the Queen of Hearts he revered. How could you embody such power and poise when you were usually so… so… docile? His admiration mixed with a bewildering flush of pride.

You didn’t notice him, completely immersed in your impromptu performance. With a dramatic flourish, you ended the song, holding an invisible scepter aloft as if ruling over a kingdom of trembling subjects.

The silence that followed was deafening.

It was only then that you spotted him, his wide eyes and flushed face a dead giveaway that he’d seen the entire thing. Your mouth fell open, and you scrambled off the bench, your cheeks burning as you sputtered, “Riddle! I-I didn’t see you there!”

His lips moved as though he wanted to speak, but no sound came out. Finally, after a long moment, he managed, “That… was remarkable.”

“Remarkable?” you repeated, unsure if that was a compliment or a polite way of saying What on earth was that?

Riddle stepped closer, his expression torn between awe and embarrassment. “You—you truly embodied the spirit of the Queen of Hearts. Your intensity, your conviction…” He paused, his voice softening. “It was admirable. Inspiring, even.”

You blinked, stunned. “I was just messing around… You really think so?”

His cheeks burned brighter as he averted his gaze. “It’s… rare to see someone honor her so… naturally. I admire your passion. It’s…” He hesitated before meeting your eyes. “...beautiful.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you both stood in awkward silence, the weight of his words settling between you. Then, with a nervous laugh, you scratched the back of your head. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed the show, Your Honor.”

Riddle’s lips twitched, almost into a smile. “I did.” Then, in a quieter voice, he added, “I always do.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona wasn’t the type to eavesdrop. Not intentionally, anyway. But when he heard a low, familiar melody echoing from one of the quiet courtyards, his ears twitched involuntarily. Curiosity got the better of him, and he sauntered toward the sound.

What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.

There you were, pacing back and forth on the edge of a stone fountain like a monarch surveying their pride. Your voice rang out—low, powerful, dripping with calculated malice—as you sang “Be prepared!” You punctuated the words with dramatic gestures, your arms sweeping through the air as if commanding an invisible army.

Leona’s tail flicked, his sharp green eyes narrowing. Where was the soft-spoken person he knew? The one who gave others the benefit of the doubt even when they didn’t deserve it? The one who, annoyingly, always had a kind smile ready for anyone in need?

No, this was someone else entirely. Someone confident. Dangerous. Mesmerizing.

“Meticulous planning, tenacity spanning, decades of denial…” Your voice grew stronger with each line, rising and falling in time with your movements. The sneer on your lips, the glint in your eyes—it was uncanny. You weren’t just singing the King of Beasts’ song. You were the King of Beasts.

Leona’s chest tightened as he watched you embody everything he admired about his ancestor. The cunning, the ambition, the audacity to demand a throne that should have been his by right. He knew those feelings well, knew the fire that came with them. And yet, seeing you channel them so effortlessly… it struck a chord he hadn’t expected.

And damn, if you didn’t look good doing it.

You reached the final verse, throwing your arms wide with a triumphant grin. “Yes, our teeth and ambitions are bared—be prepared!” Your voice echoed in the empty courtyard, the last note lingering in the air as you struck a dramatic pose.

Silence followed. Then—

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Herbivore.”

You jumped, nearly toppling into the fountain. “Leona!” you yelped, whipping around to see him leaning against a pillar, arms crossed and an infuriating smirk on his face.

“How long were you standing there?” you demanded, your cheeks heating up.

“Long enough.” He pushed off the pillar and strolled toward you, his gaze sharp and appraising. “You’ve been holding out on me, huh? All this time, you’ve been playin’ the meek little herbivore act, and now I catch you out here auditioning for the role of a lifetime.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I was just goofing around! It’s not like—ugh, I can’t believe you saw that.”

He chuckled, low and deep. “Relax. I’m not complainin’. You nailed it, by the way. The whole ambition thing? Kinda suits you.”

You peeked at him from between your fingers, unsure if he was teasing or being sincere. “You’re not… weirded out?”

“Why would I be?” He tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost fond. “You were channeling the King of Beasts, weren’t you? ‘Course you looked good doin’ it.”

His words made your heart skip, but before you could respond, he leaned in closer, his green eyes glinting. “Still, you’ve got guts pullin’ that off. You keep surprising me, Herbivore. I’ll give you that.”

Your face felt like it was on fire, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Well… thanks, I guess.”

He straightened, hands sliding into his pockets as he turned to leave. “Don’t stop on my account. You wanna belt out another song, go for it. Maybe I’ll even join in next time.”

And with that, he walked away, his tail swaying lazily behind him.

You stared after him, your heart pounding for reasons you didn’t quite understand. “Join in?” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head. “Yeah, right.”

But the thought of Leona singing Be Prepared with you? You couldn’t help but smile.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul always prided himself on keeping a calm, collected demeanor. It was part of the image he'd cultivated—smooth, sophisticated, and utterly unflappable. But today? Today, he felt his composure teetering on a knife’s edge.

He hadn’t meant to stumble across you in an empty classroom, where you apparently thought you were alone. The soft hum of music drew his attention as he passed by, and curiosity had compelled him to take a peek.

And there you were.

The typically sweet, mild-mannered person he knew had vanished, replaced by someone utterly commanding. You were perched on the edge of a table, one hand gesturing grandly as your voice rang out:

"Poor unfortunate souls, in pain, in need!"

Azul froze, the words sending a shiver down his spine. Your tone was rich, dripping with confidence, and paired with the way you moved—calculated, fluid, like every motion had a purpose—you were magnetic. You swept your arm out with a flourish, mimicking the sea witch herself, your voice curling around each word with wicked glee.

"This one longing to be thinner, that one wants to get the girl..."

Azul’s breath caught. You weren’t just singing the song. You were the song. The sly glances, the theatrical gestures, the sharp, knowing smile—you were embodying the Sea Witch in a way that made his heart race.

How had he never seen this side of you before?

"And do I help them? Yes, indeed!"

Your voice climbed, bold and commanding, and Azul’s mind raced. The way you seemed to channel the Sea Witch—the cunning, the control, the sheer power—it was breathtaking. You reminded him of everything he admired about the Sea Witch. The very traits that he also had.

But seeing you like this? It felt... dangerous.

"Now it’s happened once or twice, someone couldn’t pay the price...”

You leaned forward, your expression devious, and Azul’s chest tightened. He suddenly felt like one of those poor, unfortunate souls, utterly captivated and completely at your mercy.

The song ended with a flourish, and you threw your arms out, basking in your imaginary spotlight.

That’s when you noticed him.

“Azul?!” you yelped, nearly toppling off the table. “What are you doing here?”

He took a moment to collect himself, smoothing his expression into something neutral—though the faint pink dusting his cheeks betrayed him. “I was just passing by,” he said, clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Your face turned red as you scrambled to stand. “Oh, I was just... uh, messing around! It’s nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious?” His voice came out sharper than he intended. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. “That performance was incredible.”

You blinked, startled. “You think so?”

“Without a doubt.” His voice softened, but his gaze remained intense. “You… embodied the role perfectly. The confidence, the cunning—you channeled it all flawlessly.”

You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “Thanks, but I was just having fun. I didn’t think anyone would actually see me.”

“Perhaps you should reconsider,” he said, his tone almost too casual. “If you ever decide to pursue a career in theater, you’d be quite formidable.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You really mean that?”

Azul’s smile was small but genuine. “Absolutely. Though, if I may… I’d suggest not showing that side of yourself to just anyone.”

“Why not?” you asked, puzzled.

He stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Because power like that can be… intoxicating. And there are those who might exploit it.”

You stared at him, unsure how to respond. The way he looked at you—like you were a puzzle he desperately wanted to solve—made your heart skip.

Azul cleared his throat again, stepping back as if realizing how close he’d gotten. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to your… ‘messing around.’”

As he turned to leave, you called out, “Azul?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not going to, like, hold this over my head, are you?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder with a sly smile. “Now, would I ever do something like that?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Why did I even ask?”

His laughter echoed down the hall as he walked away, leaving you to wonder if you’d just made a mistake—or if you’d unintentionally gained his admiration. Either way, the image of Azul’s flustered expression was one you wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon.

Jamil Viper

Jamil had long mastered the art of blending into the background, observing the world from the sidelines without drawing attention to himself. It was how he kept control, how he stayed one step ahead. But today, his usually composed exterior faltered.

He wasn’t sure what compelled him to stop by the empty classroom, but when he pushed the door open, his entire world shifted.

You were there.

Gone was the gentle, kind presence he had grown used to. Instead, you were standing atop a low table, your expression sharp and commanding, your hands sweeping through the air as if conjuring storms with your words.

"Prince Ali? Yes, it is he, but not as you know him!"

Jamil froze. Your voice was rich, dripping with mockery and power, a far cry from the sweet tone you usually used. You stalked across the small space, throwing your arms out dramatically as you continued the song, your movements perfectly embodying the calculated, theatrical confidence of the Sorcerer of the Sands himself.

"Read my lips and come to grips with reality!"

Your voice curled around the words, biting and sardonic, and Jamil felt the hairs on his arms stand on end. You were into it. Every gesture, every word carried weight, as if you were performing for an audience of thousands instead of an empty room.

He had always admired the Sorcerer of the Sands—not just for his cleverness, but for his ambition, his cunning, the way he refused to settle for the scraps the world threw him. Watching you now, it was as if you’d plucked that same spirit from the pages of a storybook and breathed it into life.

"His personality flaws give me adequate cause..."

You spun dramatically, pointing an accusatory finger at an imaginary audience, your expression fierce. For a moment, Jamil almost believed you were chastising him, and his heart skipped a beat.

He should look away. He should leave before you noticed him. But he couldn’t. He was rooted to the spot, utterly captivated.

"To send him packing on a one-way trip, so his prospects take a terminal dip!"

You ended with a flourish, holding your arms out as if soaking in invisible applause, a self-satisfied smirk curling your lips.

And then you saw him.

“Jamil?!” you yelped, nearly losing your balance in surprise.

He stepped forward, trying to look impassive even though his heart was still racing. “I didn’t mean to interrupt… whatever that was.”

Your face turned a deep shade of red. “I was just, uh, messing around! I didn’t think anyone was here.”

“That much was clear.” His voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed him. They lingered on you a moment too long, taking in the faint flush on your cheeks, the sparkle in your eyes, the way your chest rose and fell as you caught your breath.

You fidgeted, smoothing your clothes. “It’s nothing, really. Just a silly song.”

“Silly?” He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “That performance was anything but silly.”

Your embarrassment deepened. “You don’t have to mock me, you know.”

“I’m not mocking you,” he said quickly. Too quickly. He cleared his throat, glancing away. “It was… impressive. You captured the essence of the character perfectly.”

“Really?”

Jamil sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yes. The confidence, the control, the edge of menace—it was all there. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were plotting to overthrow a kingdom.”

You laughed nervously. “Guess I just got carried away.”

“Carried away...” he murmured, his gaze softening. The truth was, watching you like that had shaken something loose in him. Seeing you embody the cunning, ambitious traits he admired so deeply—it was almost too much.

“Anyway,” you said, hopping off the table. “I’ll just pretend this never happened if you will.”

Jamil smirked faintly. “As you wish.”

But as you walked past him, he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, watching the way you moved, still radiating the energy of the sorcerer you’d been channeling moments ago.

Masterlist

[420technoblazeit]

i think i'm definitely in the minority with this but i genuinely don't care what christian linke says about jayvik. and i don't even mean that in a spiteful fuck that guy! kind of way i mean i think that he's allowed to have an opinion on his own characters. if he doesn't think that jayce and viktor's relationship has romantic undertones that's fine with me. he's not the only writer in that room and i think he has the right to express his opinion considering that this is his show that he worked on for 9 years. also he didn't even completely discount it he just said that he saw some kind of love between them and he thinks they have a deep complex relationship

i read the thing he said about how he doesn't understand why people immediately jumped to a romantic relationship as him genuinely just being like yeah idk i dont see it. but he didn't really seem upset about it and i hesitate to think of him as a raging homophobe. if he wants to say that he thinks of viktor as asexual then fine whatever that's cool. i know some asexuals are upset about that bc they feel like he's using that identity to deflect criticism but i dont really see it that way as an ace myself. idk maybe i just don't take a lot of stock in so called word of god canon but it feels like all of twitter is dogpiling him right now and painting him as this horrible homophobic asshole who hates all the shipping

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

Girl I need to know what happened at home in "Playing Dangerously" bring a second chapter home please

Part 1: Playing Dangerous

THE END OF THE GAME

jude bellingham x gf!reader

warnings: a lot of tension, +18 content, p in v, unprotected sex, dom!Jude, dirty talk, possesive behaivor, and probably mistakes since english is not my first language.

summary: After a night of shameless teases that push Jude to his limits, you think you've won. However, the anger between you is still there, and you both prove it in a battle for control, releasing all the unspoken tension with touches instead of words. Every gesture becomes a declaration, every caress, a fight. In the end, all he wants is to hear you say it—to speak the truth: that you are his and he is yours.

Jude´s kiss wasn’t gentle—it was all fire and frustration, an explosion of the tension that had been simmering between you two all night. His lips claimed yours with a desperate sort of hunger, his hands framing your face as if to keep you from escaping this time. You gasped against him, startled by the intensity, but the sound only seemed to spur him on, his grip tightening, his lips demanding every ounce of your attention.

Your hands found their way to his chest, whether to push him away or pull him closer, you weren’t sure. Anger still lingered within you, but desire burned even stronger. But as his lips moved against yours, all traces of anger were swallowed by the sheer heat of the moment. His kiss was a mix of punishment and possession, and you felt it in every brush of his lips, every sweep of his tongue, and every barely restrained sound rumbling from his chest.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his forehead pressing against yours as his hands slid down to your waist, holding you firmly in place. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and searching, as if trying to read your every thought. He could do it if he set his mind to it.

“You done playing games yet?” Jude asked, his voice rough, laced with challenge and desire. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles against your hip, his touch warm and electric even through the thin fabric of your dress.

Behind you, the car’s cool metal frame pressed into your back, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between you. The glossy black paint gleamed under the soft light, creating an almost cinematic reflection of the two of you locked in this intimate, charged moment.

You bit your lip, struggling to catch your breath, but the defiance in your gaze hadn’t faded. “Not even close,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly but still firm.

Jude let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a shiver through you. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours again, teasing, as if he were testing your resolve.

“Maybe I just like seeing you like this,” you shot back, a sly smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “All worked up over me.”

Jude’s mouth twitched into the barest hint of a smirk, but the fire in his eyes never wavered. His fingers slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you—woodsy with a hint of spice, intoxicatingly familiar. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours, his breath brushing against your skin. “Oh, I’m worked up, all right,” he said, his voice low and filled with a dark promise. “But you’re not going to like where this leads if you keep pushing me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the warning in his tone sending a thrill through you. But you weren’t ready to back down—not yet. “I´m sure I will,” you challenged, your voice softer now, almost a whisper.

His smirk returned, sharper this time. Without another word, he opened the passenger door and gestured for you to get in, his grip on your waist lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You hesitated, searching his face for some hint of what was going through his mind, but his expression was unreadable, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place.

As you slid into the car, he leaned in close, his hand bracing against the doorframe. “You’re in so much trouble,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear in a way that made your breath hitch. Before you could respond, he shut the door with a quiet finality, rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat with an air of calm that only made your nerves buzz louder. He took his time and you were hating his pace.

The drive home was silent, but the tension between you was almost unbearable. Every glance, every shift in his posture, every brush of his hand against the gear shift seemed deliberate, calculated, as if he were silently daring you to speak first.

When he finally pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, he turned to you, a flicker of something unreadable—mischievous, almost predatory—dancing in his dark, unrelenting eyes. "Inside," he said, the low, commanding tone of his voice making your pulse race. The corner of his mouth quirked, just slightly, as if he was savoring the way your breath hitched.

You hesitated for just a second, your defiance flickering, but the look in his eyes left no room for argument. Swallowing hard, you stepped out of the car and walked toward the door, aware of him following close behind. The heat of his presence was almost suffocating, and your heart raced as you fumbled with the keys, finally pushing the door open and stepping inside.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Jude’s hands were on you again, spinning you around and pinning you against the wall. His lips crashed into yours, this time even more intense, more urgent, as if he couldn’t stand the distance any longer. His hands roamed your body, sliding over your hips and up your sides, pulling you against him with a desperation that left you breathless.

“You think you can play with me like that?” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low, each word sending a shiver down your spine. “Flirting with him, touching him, laughing like that—like I wasn’t even there? Y/N, you made me watch every single one of your fucking movements.”

Your hands gripped his shirt, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his words and the heat of his touch. “I wasn’t—” you started, but he cut you off with another searing kiss, his teeth grazing your lower lip in a way that made you gasp.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice a soft growl as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he searched your gaze. “You wanted to make me jealous. You wanted to get under my skin. Well, congratulations, love. You got exactly what you wanted.”

His words sent a rush of adrenaline through you, your heart skipping a beat as his lips trailed down to your neck, leaving a trail of heated and wet kisses that made your knees weak. “Jude…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but he didn’t stop, his hands tightening on your waist as if to anchor you to him.

“Say it,” he murmured against your skin, his lips hovering just below your ear. “Say you’re mine.”

His words weren’t a request—they were a command. As much as you wanted to fire back with that undeniable truth, you clung tightly to your anger and defiance. “No,” you whispered, your voice quivering, caught somewhere between anticipation and need.

Jude leaned back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes ablaze with frustration and something deeper, something that sent a sharp ache through your chest in the most intoxicating way. “If that’s how you want this to go...” he muttered, his voice low and heavy with emotion.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could hold out, but surrendering to him—at least, not yet—wasn’t an option. Nevertheless, you couldn’t help blaming your hormones, your curiosity, and whatever god had blessed Jude Bellingham with the face of an angel and the body of a god of wanting to give up. But the night was still young. The leather of the nearest couch you two found, groaned as you shifted closer, your knees brushing against his. The moment you were within arm's reach, he hooked one arm around your back, effortlessly pulling you onto his lap.

Jude’s grip on your hips was firm, his lips pressing hard against yours as if he was trying to erase every thought from your mind. The intensity in his touch sent shivers down your spine, every brush of his hand leaving trails of heat in its wake. His fingers slid up, curling into the curve of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. The kiss was relentless—no room for air, no chance to think. It was all Jude, all consuming, and you couldn’t help but respond, your own hands tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to hear the low groan that rumbled in his chest.

His mouth trailed down to your jaw, teeth grazing the sensitive skin before finding the spot at your neck that made your breath hitch. The sensation was electric, your body arching into his instinctively, your head tilting back to give him more access.

Your breath came in uneven gasps, your head spinning from the intensity of his touch and the heat of his breath against your skin. Part of you wanted to argue, to tease him further, but every inch of your body was on fire, his dominance leaving you no room to think. Still, you weren’t about to surrender so easily—not without one last shot.

Breaking the kiss, you leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. Your lips curved into a playful smile, the mischief in your eyes igniting a flicker of challenge in his. “You’re awfully bossy, you know that?”

Jude’s eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement, his hands tightening on your hips. The possessiveness in his grip was thrilling, his strength holding you in place as if daring you to keep pushing. “And you’re a brat,” he shot back, his voice low and laced with a mix of annoyance and adoration. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The tension crackled between you. Every inch of your skin was alive with anticipation as Jude’s presence seemed to take up every corner of the room. His voice, soft but commanding, lingered in the air. “This is what you wanted, isn´t it?”

Your breath hitched, and despite yourself, you nodded. It was a dangerous game you were playing. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to pull away, to put an end to it—but the pull between you were undeniable. His eyes never left yours, like a predator studying its prey, and you could feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.

He took a step forward, his every movement deliberate, measured. His fingers brushed against your cheek, a featherlight caress that sent a shiver through you. “Don’t play anymore,” he whispered, almost tenderly.

Your heart hammered in your chest, but you refused to speak. Instead, you clenched your jaw, trying to hold your ground. His smirk deepened, amusement dancing in his eyes as he saw the battle within you.

His hand slid down the curve of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your pulse, sending a rush of warmth straight to your core.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me, do you want this?”

His words wrapped around you like a chain, but still, you couldn’t find your voice. The space between you seemed impossibly small now. His hand traveled lower, skimming the edge of your clothing, and you sucked in a breath as the pressure between you mounted. His closeness was overwhelming, suffocating, yet you didn’t want him to pull away.

You closed your eyes, but the image of his smirk, that knowing, teasing grin, stayed with you. You wanted to break. You wanted to submit. But pride kept you on the edge, unsure whether to give in completely or to keep fighting.

Jude stopped then, just as you felt you might drown in the heat of the moment. His lips hovered inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours in the stillness. His eyes searched yours, waiting for you to make the first move.

You stayed silent, your lips barely parted, your body aching for more. He smiled, a slow, wicked curve of his mouth, and his fingers brushed over your jawline, tracing the curve of your face like a forbidden promise. “You’ll break,” he murmured, the words a low, knowing promise.

The game was no longer about control—it was about surrender. And as much as you fought it, you felt yourself slipping, falling into his hands.

Jude’s teeth skimmed your bottom lip, tugging just hard enough to draw a gasp from you before his tongue swept over the tender spot, soothing the sting. His fingers tangled in your hair, his grip firm yet achingly gentle as he pulled back, his lips hovering over yours. “You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice rough, laced with undeniable conviction. “Only mine.”

The words sent a wave of nervousness through you, raising goosebumps along your skin, igniting something deep and unshakable. You tried to stifle the teasing retort forming on your lips, but defiance slipped through unbidden. “Then deserve it,” you blurted, the challenge clear in your voice.

Jude's jaw tightened at your words, the challenge in your tone igniting a flicker of anger in his eyes. He stopped smirking, and bit the inside of his cheek. His lips hovered close to your ear, his voice low and rough as he murmured, “You never learn, do you?”

Before you could respond, he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you towards the bedroom. The door slammed shut behind him with finality, the sound echoing through the room. He set you down with a harsh press against the matress, his hands still gripping you with an iron-like hold.

As Jude’s hands roamed your sides, his touch shifting from heated to deliberate, his gaze bore into yours, dark and unrelenting. He was holding back just enough to tease you, to make you feel the weight of his control. His fingers found the zipper of your dress, tugging it down in one smooth, almost punishing motion. The fabric slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet as his eyes raked over you, predatory and sharp.

But when he saw the bare skin beneath, his hands froze for just a moment. A sharp, almost feral grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “No underwear?” The amusement in his tone sent a shiver through you, and the heat of his gaze made it impossible to look away.

Your cheeks burned as you stammered, “I didn’t want lines showing through the dress...”

He leaned in, smirking, his lips a breath away from yours, his voice low and rough, each word like a match striking against your resolve. “You’re such a tease,” he said, the words dripping with a mix of annoyance and raw desire. “Did you want me to loose my mind?”

Your blush deepened, but the challenge in his tone reignited the fire in your chest. “Did you?”

Jude’s gaze darkened, the flicker of anger in his eyes giving way to something far more dangerous. “What am I going to do?” he repeated, his voice a low, predatory murmur. His fingers slid up your bare skin, his touch igniting every nerve as he leaned in, his lips grazing your neck before finding the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Oh, love,” he said, his voice a mix of threat and promise, “I’m going to ruin you.”

All feminism had apparently left your body, because the way he grunted that crude declarations made your thighs shudder with anticipation. Sexual repression was something you had lived with for the last couple of weeks since you two started fighting and his hands around your body felt better than ever.

Your legs opened wider for him as he left kisses along the valley of your breasts, his tongue sweeping down below your erected nipples. The room began to spin, all your senses completely tethered to him. His hands groped at your ass, using it as leverage to rock his covered length into your center. The delicious friction builds as butterflies swarmed your stomach. God, it has never felt this good.

Craving more, thirsty for more than foreplay, you dropped your hands to his lap. Your nimble fingers work on his button and zipper. You ghosted past the shadows in his pants, feeling him, knowing he wanted this just as bad as you did, but he was refusing to help you pull his jeans off, or at least down enough so he could be exposed.

“Jude, some help?” you groaned, hating how gutted you sounded, how needy.

“I’m not doing shit until you tell me what I want to hear.” His mouth continues to assault your neck and chest, the cool air making goosebumps race across your body as it hits the warm places on your throat where his wet tongue had been.

“You want me to tell you⁠—”

“Confess,” he butted in, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “I want you to confess me the truth. The undeniable thruth. That you´re mine, only mine.” That tone again, rubbing you in all the places you never knew you needed. It was obvious that he didn’t like the stunts you’d pulled during dinner.

Your breath shook as you looked up from his waist, diving into his hellfire eyes that spark and sizzle in the dim light. Such a unique version of brown. “Then tell me you are mine,” you whispered, pressing your mouth into his for a kiss that felt like falling. Your heart raced inside your rib cage, thudding over and over again. “Tell me you´re mine and not hers.”

His nostrils flare, and his hands grabbed you harder, as if holding onto control—or maybe letting it slip. The argument was still fresh in your mind, the reason why all of this had started, like a wound that refused to close. The campaign. The model. His silence was worse than all the yelling from weeks and hours ago, and you could feel your stomach sink.

The seconds stretch, his eyes still locked on yours, and when he finally spoke, his voice is a low, smoldering growl. “How many times do we have to go through this?”

He grunted, raising his hips to shove his tight jeans down his waist enough to release himself. You widened your eyes, looking down as his hard cock rested against his stomach.

You raised your hips, directing his cock to your entrance. Lowering yourself onto him gradually, you felt every single inch enter you at your own pace. You whimpered as you felt him stretch you open, forcing his way into your dripping walls. You couldn’t help but look down, watching the process. It’s almost an unbearable amount of pleasure that rides through you when you´re fully sitting on his lap.

The sound of him groaning turns your attention back to him. Beneath you, his head presses into the pillows, his toned arms gripping you as his fingers clutched at your hips, all the veins in his throat bulging as he flexes his jaw, grunting out, “Fuck.”

You were at a live wire of sensations in this moment that you couldn’t fathom happening with anyone else. Eager to please him and craving release, you started to lift your hips up and down. His length rubbed every inch of you on the inside, tickling that sensitive spot along with every other spot. It was touching everywhere all at once, so many places, it was overwhelming. Your limbs felt light and heavy at the same time as you rolled your hips against him.

A groan rumbled in his chest, letting you know what you were doing was working for him just as much as it was for you. “Look at you looking so good ridin’ my cock,” he mumbled, full of rasp, low eyes watching you. His hands were now occupied touching your breasts as you rode him.

You were soaked, thoroughly stretched and perfected for him. You had him exactly where you wanted—beneath you, pinned, with you in control. The rhythm you set was intoxicating, a slow burn, a tease that left both of you breathless. But then his hands lowered and tightened on your hips, a subtle warning that sent a shiver cascading down your spine, you knew that his restraint was slipping, his patience worn thin.

In a single fluid motion, he reversed the tide, his movements deliberate, commanding. The haziness of his earlier submission vanished, replaced by something raw, undeniable, and entirely him. He had let you play, but now it was his turn to have fun.

He encircled your waist, forcing you down his shaft. Your bodies scoot to the edge of the bed so that he could piston his hips into your hole. With hunger and traces of rage, he grabbed again your exposed tits. He did not give you a single moment to settle because soon, your nipple was between his teeth, his soft tongue spinning circles around it.

“Jude, oh my God,” you panted, sweat already sticking to your forehead.

You moved together in sync, rocking your bodies into one another. You felt every single thrust, letting your bodies slam together over and over again. Your head lolled back while your fingers buried themselves into his shoulder blades.

He growled, the sound reverberating through you like a primal command. His hands tightened their grip, driving him to thrust into you with an intensity that left you gasping. You let him guide you, manhandle you, surrendering completely to his control. “See? You’re my good girl.”

His pace was merciless now, a rhythm that left no room for thought, only sensation. Your legs trembled, teetering on the edge of collapse, but his firm hold kept you exactly where he wanted you. Tears welled in your eyes, not from pain, but from the overwhelming flood of pleasure coursing through you.

He had promised this—promised to unravel you, to leave you utterly undone—and now he was keeping that promise with devastating precision. He was ruining you, in the most exquisite way possible.

“I’m going to come. Make me come, Jude, please,” you cried wildly, suddenly not caring about anything else but the pleasure.

“Beg for it, baby, beg for it. Only I can make you feel like this.”

You nodded eagerly. “Please, please, Jude, please.” His hands went down to trace circles in your clit, and it was unberable.

You were aching all over. Fire, consumig you as you climbed higher towards your orgasm. You quivered, the air taken out of your lungs as ecstasy pumped in your veins. All that came from you are broken cries as he continued to plunge, flutters and spasms racking through you. Pleasure thrummed through your body, toes curling as you drift through the most intense orgasm of your life. Now, the heat that once consumed you was replaced by a deep blush spreading across your tear-streaked cheeks, the salt of your tears mixing with the lingering haze of pleasure. Each shaky breath drew attention to the raw vulnerability etched into your expression, a testament to how completely he had undone you.

“Beautiful,” he uttered huskily. You were not even sure that’s what you actually heard, too numb from bliss to truly comprehend.

Your limbs felt heavy and your eyes were shut tight as he raced after his own release, pumping with ruthless thrusts that made your core tighten with indescribable pleasure. Jude’s fingers delved between your thighs, finding your clit again and immediately applying pressure.

“Wait, wait, I can’t. S-so sensitive,” you whimpered, your hand shooting down to his wrist, gripping it to try and prevent him from making your entire body combust.

It’s so intense that you could feel your eyes starting to water. Again. His fingers didn’t stop, and neither did his hips, “One more. Be my good girl. One more.”

He moaned, his thumb speeding up to match his thrusts. That familiar build hit your core, a long whine falling from your lips. “Fuck, I can’t,” you mewled, but your body said otherwise, tightening around him once again.

“You can. You can because I said so.”

And you did. You came again, your body gripping him with a desperate intensity, drawing him deeper, tighter, until every inch of him was enveloped in your heat. Your cries turned into broken whimpers, the sound raw and helpless as your second climax tore through you, leaving you trembling and breathless.

Jude’s growl turned into a guttural moan, a sound that reverberated through his chest and into yours as he thrust one final time, burying himself fully. The moment he stilled, his lips claimed yours with fervor. The kiss was searing, full of hunger and release, his mouth devouring yours with no pretense of gentleness. His teeth grazed your bottom lip before his tongue swept in, deepening the kiss as his hands tightened on your hips, holding you against him like he never wanted to let go.

You melted into him, your lips moving in perfect rhythm with his, matching the intensity of his passion. Your fingers tangled in his curls, pulling him closer as he tilted his head to kiss you deeper, exploring every inch of your mouth with aching thoroughness.

As the storm of sensations began to settle, his lips softened against yours, the urgency ebbing into something slower, more tender. When the kiss finally broke, both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressing together as your shared gasps mingled in the stillness. His thumb brushed over your cheek, catching the lingering tears as his lips ghosted over yours once more.

His long eyelashes tickled the side of your face. You could barely feel his fingers when they started playing with your hair, twirling around your strands. The room was quiet now, the intensity of moments before replaced by a soothing calm. A warm glow from a bedside lamp cast gentle shadows across the room, and the air felt thick with the intimacy of the moment.

He lay beside you, propped up on one elbow, his other hand brushing delicate fingers over you. Your eyes fluttered closed as if you were savoring the way his touch made you feel utterly cherished.

“You're it for me,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. It was as if the words carried the weight of his entire soul. “There's no one else. There couldn't be. You're all I want, all I’ll ever need.”

Before you could respond, he leaned down, pressing the sweetest of kisses to your forehead. It lingered, firm and grounding, as though he wanted to etch the moment into your skin.

“You’re my world, you know?” His lips moved to your temple, then to the corner of your mouth, each touch more tender than the last. “I couldn’t love you more if I tried. I don’t even think it’s possible.” His words were laced with conviction, yet there was an almost boyish softness in the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever held.

You let out a shaky laugh, overwhelmed due to the sensations that you had felt but comforted. You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his, and brought it to your lips. “You don’t have to try,” you whispered. Your voice trembled, but your smile was radiant. “I love you so much, Jude...”

There was a beat of silence, not awkward but rich with meaning. You could see how his eyes softened, how his features eased into an expression of pure adoration.

“And you know what?” you added, your tone more playful now, but your words brimming with sincerity. “I’m yours. Every part of me. Always.”

He cupped your face, his lips pressed to yours, soft and lingering, a kiss that was less about passion and more about everything he couldn’t put into words. You snuggled closer to him, your bodies fitting together perfectly, and he tucked the blanket around you both, holding you as if to shield you from the world. His hand found yours, fingers entwining naturally, and as your breathing slowed, he pressed a final kiss to your hair.

"Goodnight, my love," he murmured, his voice warm and tender. "I’ve got you."

And in his arms, you felt it—safe, loved, and utterly complete.

a/n: omg.

[a1ecmcdowell]

alec mcdowell & transgenic!user - a million kisses ㅤ ┊ ㅤ (18+!)

i want someone to promise me a million kisses and more . . . or, he's your first everything; first, and second, and fifth, and tenth.

includes, MDNI. ㅤ explicit sexual content ㅤ (light ) breeding kink ㅤ unprotected p in v ㅤ first times! ㅤ fluffy smut ㅤ like genuinely sickly sweet ㅤ soft dom!alec ㅤ best friend!reader ㅤ dirty talk ㅤ talks you through it creampie (hate this word sm sorrY)

req by @foxylady493 hehe thank u for giving me an excuse to write ab rawdoggin alec mcdowell HAHA

word count: 6.2k and for what like genuinely.

★ ˚⋆

somewhere, in one of the books that joshua had stolen for you, with a well worn cover and soft pages, with faded ink painting the front cardstock, you'd read something that stuck with you. i want someone to promise me a million kisses.

it was one of those passing thoughts that embeds itself into your psyche, a physical thing lodged between the folds of your brain, making itself evident every time you tried to forget it. a million kisses... and you'd never had one.

hell, you'd never even wanted to. you were everything manticore wanted you to be; loyal to the greatest extent, dedicated to your training, dominating the rest of the x5 series by a long shot — well, alongside your best friend alec.

alec, who really kept you motivated and on your toes, because he was so effortlessly good. he could sprint the entire forest on the grounds' base three times while you'd be on your second. he could pick you up with ease, and often did, urging you to work on your strength that little bit more so that you could do the same to him.

he was lifting you with one arm, actually, when you'd both been called back to your cells abruptly. it was awkward, in a way, moreso than it would have been for any normal human being, because of how unfamiliar you were with awkward situations. having to be sat down so you could properly address the guard in front of you, the same one who'd just been watching the both of you try and lift each other like barbells?

it only managed to get worse, somehow, when you were both ushered into your cell, followed by one of the directors, a woman with short blonde hair and a fierce stare.

something about this felt like a punishment, or a bad omen. how could you know, then, what a turning point this was going to be for you? the both of you?

"stand down, 494, 490." her lips are quirked with knowledge she isn't sharing, her hands folded neatly behind her back. "no need for formalities. not... for this."

you know better than to say a word out of turn, and so does alec, but you feel his confusion radiating off of him, a mirror image of your own, in the way his shoulders tense back.

her lips curl higher, a tight lipped smile that looks almost sinister in the dull lighting of your cell. "you are both aware of the situation with our labs, i imagine," she continues, slowly, like she's waiting for one of you to piece it together. "all of our genetic data, up in flames, and no way to continue creating soldiers to uphold the legacy the two of you are sure to bring."

directors do not ever come in with compliments, especially so strong, without something up their sleeves. "unless..."

it's one word, but it hits you and alec like a wave. him first, as he draws in a sharp breath, and then you, your stoic expression faltering at once. unless they use their current x5s to make those soldiers.

"it's only natural to pair you two off, what with how... close, you've gotten, over these years." there was a shared trauma that rooted the two of you to each other. him, being a clone of x5-493, and you, of 491.

something was off in their coding, a mixture of genetics and dna that didn't mesh. people were tightlipped about 493 and the seemingly endless amount of death he left in his wake, but they were sure to remind you about 491, the only one who, seemingly, kept his head screwed on straight the rare times that it was.

i want someone to promise me a million kisses... did she feel the same way? did he manage a million before his life was taken? you couldn't help but wonder it, especially with how many times the words killer kisser were thrown in your face. maybe that was why you were so attached to the idea of being kissed. you were stuck on the outside of a secret, wondering how kisses could render a troubled man's mind silent for a little while.

you had zoned out without realizing, stuck in a past that didn't belong to you. "are we clear?" the woman asks, her eyes lingering particularly long on you.

your face flushes with shame. shame for not listening, for missing the entire purpose of this conversation because you'd been daydreaming about an obscene amount of kisses for one person to receive.

alec speaks up for you, saving you from a potential reprimand or punishment, as he often did. "all clear."

"good." her eyes stay on yours for a beat too long, like she's daring you to break, before she nods once. "you've got one hour."

and with that, she stalks out of the room, the guards waiting on either side of your open door stepping out of line to trail behind her. the door hisses shut, and then it's just you and alec. you should know why. if you'd listened—

"you could have been less obvious, you know," alec says with a scoff of laughter, as he breaks his straight-backed stance and crosses to your bed in the corner. he sinks down on it, strong enough that his weight bounces on the springy mattress, legs spread open as he made himself right at home.

you blink once, twice. "less obvious with what?"

"oh, i don't know," his lips twist in mock thought, before they tilt into a dazzling smile, "starin' off like you don't even know where you are."

"i was just—"

"not listening. yeah, established, nelly." alec's eyebrows raise in his amusement, strong arms folded nearly over his chest. "you're gonna be confused as hell when i start taking my clothes off, then."

you splutter, wordless sounds falling out in a flustered heap. "what?"

his head falls back in a fit of laughter, loud enough that it echoes off of the walls. "god, you really weren't listening!"

"just spit it out! what are you talking about?"

slowly, the smile tapers away, his laughter trails off, and you're just looking at each other. "gonna have to copulate, you and i."

your expression drops. any trace of amusement dissipates, a cold, icy feeling of dread flooding your veins. no. no. you couldn't. not with him. not when it would ruin—

a million kisses, a million kisses, a million kisses.

it always came back to that, didn't it? "no," you say aloud firmly, like your rejection can somehow reverse the fact that it has to happen. has to, because you would never betray a direct order. this was something being entrusted to you. "alec..."

"relax," he says, his hands up in surrender. "i'm not gonna just... force you to, nelly, c'mon." his hands fall into his lap again, a sigh leaving his mouth. "s'not easy for me either, this. i mean, you're my best friend."

was he suggesting that things would change once this started? that thought made your blood feel cold in your veins, ice crystallizing in the sinew, making your bones feel heavy and stiff.

"nelly." alec snaps his fingers, drawing your attention back to him and not the dread in your stomach. it always works, when he calls you the name he'd not-so-affectionately given you during training, once. negative nelly & smart alec. "c'mon, it's not— it's not gonna be that bad. kinda bruisin' my ego that you're this torn up about it."

you choke on a laugh, your fingers lifting to run through your hair. "shut up, alec."

"'shut up, alec,'" he mimics back at you, one corner of his mouth lifting higher in a softer grin. "has that ever worked, nell?"

you shake your head, in exasperation and answer, finally crossing the small expanse of the room to drop down onto the edge of your bed next to him. his thigh is pressed up against yours, a warm, familiar comfort when everything feels uncertain.

it's loaded now, this silence that falls between you. heavy like a weight and thick like fog. his eyes are on you —you can feel them, too— and it's jarring, how one direct order can flip an entire world on its axis.

you turn to meet those green eyes of his, and then alec's leaning in, suddenly, and it takes a blink for you to realize it. you startle, feeling hot and icy and flustered all at once. "i’ve never done this,” you blurt out, and how fucking embarrassing is that, confessing it like a sin? 

“in what world do you think i have?” alec shoots back, his eyebrows raising in punctuation to the question. “i’d rather it be with you than someone else.” 

your heart is racing uncomfortably quick, an unfamiliar flutter against your ribcage. “okay.” 

“yeah?” he asks, and his large hand lifts, too, to rest his warm palm on the side of your cheek. his fingertips graze behind your ear, tangling in your soft hair. “yeah, okay, nelly.” 

his thumb grazes gently over your cheekbone, like a final reassurance before you’re no longer dipping your toes into this idea but diving fully into its depths. his fingers on the back of your neck guide you toward him, until your breaths are mingling and getting to know each other. 

your lips meet. the world stops.

it makes sense, now, how 491 could leash 493 with nothing but the press of her lips. it also makes sense why she stayed, despite all of the warning signs he must have given off, if alec’s lips were any indicator of how ben’s were. 

the kiss is tentative at best, at first. he’s not coming any closer, and you’re sat ramrod straight on the bouncy mattress, and the only thing connecting you besides your mouths is the hand he keeps on your cheek. you imagine that this is how first kisses always feel; awkward and uncertain, as this new kind of trust builds itself from the ground up.

one kiss out of a million. how were you supposed to kiss anyone else, now, when this one felt so special?

he pulls back first, but his hand stays on your face, the other sneaking its way across the space between you and landing on yours in lap. 

“not so bad, was it?” alec asks, a reassuring smile gracing his face. his thumb returns the gentle strokes over your cheek, his eyes sweeping over the expression you wear. 

no, it wasn’t that bad. but your mind isn’t on the kiss but what’s supposed to come next. “how long are we supposed to… um…” 

you’d never been the shy type around alec, but suddenly now, it feels like every word is lodged tightly in your throat. suddenly, he feels like a stranger instead of your best friend, this territory unfamiliar and scary, in its own way. 

“until you’re pregnant,” he says easily — and of course it’s easy for him, he’s not the one that has to carry a genetically enhanced baby to term. “but—” 

“no,” you say, raising a hand to cut him off. “no, i heard you.” 

“but, we don’t have to start now, nelly,” he slows his words down, like delivering the blow more gently will somehow lessen the sting. “we don’t. it’s… it’s an order, yes, but you’re still my best friend, and i want you comfortable.”

that did reassure you. you’d have to commit to the orders given eventually, but for now? this was just… a prolonged break in the courtyard, where you could hang out without precaution. 

“kinda like this new development, though,” he adds, that wicked grin of his tugging up onto his mouth, as he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up. you barely manage to squeak out the noise of surprise caught in your throat, before you’re settled in his lap. alec’s always been strong, but it’s so different, having him use that strength with you. “could get used to it.” 

“shut up,” you grumble half-heartedly.

 he grasps the collar of his shirt to drag you in. “order received.” and his mouth closes around yours once again; your second kiss of a million. 

★ ˚⋆

“stop it, that’s not—” you huff out a hard, frustrated breath, your fingers closing around alec’s wrist. “that’s not what where your hands are supposed to go.” 

alec had you sat comfortably in his lap again, after the day prior, you both learned that, despite the circumstances, it was a nice place to be. you were close enough that you could smack him if you had to, and clearly, you did. 

“s’not my fault that you’re being a tease,” he grumbles in your ear, his lips so close to the sensitive skin that shivers trail down your spine. “sittin’ all pretty in my lap, not letting me follow orders.” 

“oh, bite me,” you shoot back at him, your grip on alec’s wrist tightening as you yank it away from your ass. you can feel the heat of his skin even through the thick fabric of your camo cargos, and it’s completely distracting. 

his free hand’s finger comes up to jab you firmly in the sternum. “you won’t let me.” 

“i thought this was hard for you, too,” you argue, reaching up to grab his other hand now, the former still tightly in between your fingers. you knew the second you let it go, he’d not-so-subtly slide it right back down to your ass all over again, and where would you be? a rock — you — a hard place. 

alec snatches his hand back quickly before you can grab that one, his eyebrows bouncing once in his amusement. “trust me, nelly, it’s very hard.” 

you stare at him, unblinking for a long few seconds, before it clicks in your mind — and the feel of what was very hard presses against the core of you. your hand releases his, and you smack him once with the left, twice with the right. “alec!” 

alec cackles, head falling back with his laughter. his hand, always so much quicker than you, catches one wrist, and then the other, in his lithe fingers. his other arm snakes around your waist and there’s a blink before you’re suddenly flipped on your back.

on your back, and he’s hovered above you, your pinned wrist firmly above your head and pressed lightly into the mattress. “you’re getting soft on me,” he pants, settled in between your legs, knees nudging them further apart. “you used to beat my ass when we’d spar.” 

“you’re playing dirty.” 

“am not,” he huffs out like a petulant child, “you’re just not playing. too worried up in that head about all of the logistics here.” 

“aren’t you?” you ask him, and it’s genuine; how had 24 hours passed, and suddenly this was something he could just accept? you and him, engaging in things that best friends didn’t do. did they? “aren’t you afraid of…” your face reddens, your turn now to feel like a little kid. “doing it?” 

alec’s shoulders lift. “not when it’s with you.” 

he says it so genuinely that you know it’s true, the confidence of the words enough to take your breath away. 

you’d never thought of it like that. sure, it’s intimidating, breaching this gap of things you’d done and things you hadn’t, but… with him, surely it couldn’t be anywhere near as bad as you were thinking. 

“plus,” he adds as an afterthought, “we already agreed it wasn’t going to change a thing, didn’t we? s’just work.” 

just work. it didn’t feel like just work, but you were always reading too much into things, anyways. that’s why you and alec just worked. he was the laidback to your on edge.

you sigh. he’s getting to you. he’s unnaturally good at reading all of your fears written in your eyes and unpacking each of them, explaining them to you so they weren’t so scary anymore. “just tell me what to do. we can lie to the directors again, if we have to, if you just wanna… i dunno, chill out. could kiss again.” 

“alec.” 

“suggestion!” he raises his free hand in defense, before he lets it drop down to your thigh. “just a suggestion.” 

it was a good suggestion, too. unfortunately for you, fortunately for him. you didn’t want to get too comfortable in these uncharted territories, out of fear it’d all get muddled and then where would you be? too uncomfortable to be friends, too familiar not to be. 

“kiss me.” your mouth moves before you’ve even realized the words are out, floating between the two of you like a declaration.

he moves his hand from your wrists and lets it fall in the open expanse of your neck. his fingers are cold this time, even though your blood is hot. “yeah?” it feels achingly familiar to the gentle way he’d said it the day prior. “alright.” 

“alright.” 

is it supposed to be this awkward? firsts were always awkward. this had to be normal. if you started to think about how maybe it wasn’t normal, and you were embarrassing yourself, and he was embarrassing himself, and everything was about to be ruined, you’d—

alec leans in again, but he doesn’t kiss you on the lips, like you expected. instead, his mouth finds your jaw, teeth grazing the skin lightly, lips pressing reverently on the bone as he sucks the little mouthful of skin between them. 

you gasp, your eyes fluttering closed, eyelashes as soft as butterfly wings on your cheekbone. “relax,” he breathes, hot breath on hot skin making you squirm beneath him, “i know what i’m doin’.” 

“oh, do you?” you smile, a bit dazed as his tongue traces along the line of your jaw until he reaches the space beneath your ear.

“mhm.” he leaves a trail of wet, warm kisses down the side of your neck, then back up your throat. “thought about this all night. know what i’m doin’.” 

oh. no wonder he’d been pretty accepting of their circumstances. alec spent all of night prior thinking about you, and how he’d pick you apart. 

the thought makes another shiver run down your spine, a warm pool in your lower stomach. “alec—” 

“here,” he interrupts, halting your train of thought before it delves again. “put your hand here,” he pants softly into your sensitive skin, his fingers finding yours and guiding them underneath the gray fabric of his shirt. you feel every muscle on his abdomen, feel each flex beneath the cold touch of your fingers. “yeah, that’s it.” 

alec straightens up a little so that he can curl his own hands beneath his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. it falls in a heap at his feet, and he’s on you again a second later, his lips marking a wet trail of kisses up your throat. once he reaches your chin, he continues the onslaught, capturing your lips in a firm kiss. 

this one is different than the one the night prior. it’s more confident, sure of himself. his tongue swipes at your bottom lip, and in your surprised gasp, he tucks it between your lips. that part of the kiss is tentative, like enacting the things he’d thought about was more nerve wracking than he’d let on.

you smile. he drags his teeth across your puffed bottom lip. “oh, you like that?” he asks against the soft skin of your mouth, arrogance coating every one of his words. “mm, okay.” 

his hands run down your sides, hooking beneath your shirt and bunching it up in his fists. “this okay?” he asks, lifting his head enough to search your eyes.

you nod, taken aback, almost, by the flood of black overtaking his irises. “it’s okay.” 

his grin is mesmerizing. had he always been so attractive? had he always looked like something sculpted and molded, just for you, and you’d only just noticed? “okay,” he echoes, and he nudges your extended arm with his elbow, “lift your arms for me.” 

neither of you really know what you’re doing, but he has a little bit of an upperhand, what with the fantasies he’d created in his head. 

“what all did you think about?” you ask him, tracing your eyes over his face to keep from thinking about how he was undressing you, and you were slowly being beared to him fully.

alec’s eyebrows twitch, his eyes lifting from your bare skin up to yours again. “last night?” 

“yeah. i wanna know.” 

he shakes his head. “no, nelly,” he laughs under his breath, his heavy-lidded eyes raking over your body again. “m’not lettin’ you know. you’re shakin’ in your boots already.” 

“well, then what did you do? just lay in bed, thinkin’ about me?” you shoot back, your mouth dropping into a pout at the denial. 

alec’s lips quirk. “something like that.” 

“alec—” you’re cut off by his lips pressing to yours again. his fingers run reverently down your chest, his touch shuddery as they graze over your breasts. he groans, and the air in your lungs stutters hard in your chest. every thought is shattering to pieces before you can think them, focused instead on the feel of his hands on you in places that you didn’t think anyone would ever touch.

“i know you’re scared,” he mumbles in your mouth, his hand drifting lower, slowly but steadier than before. “so i want you in control. in case—” his touch comes to a stop at the buttons on your camo cargos. alec pauses like he’s dazed, clearing his throat. “in case you want to stop. at any point.” 

he’s such an arrogant dickhead most of the time, one that you’ve come to adore in every possible way, but here? now? he’s the sweetest person you’ve ever met. 

“here, lift your hips for me,” his nimble fingers have already undone the button, before you’d even blinked, “good girl — see? m’so proud of you, baby.” 

baby. he’d never called you baby before. your smile is immediate, even as you feel like you’re being electrocuted with how your skin is buzzing. his knuckles light a fire down you as they brush lightly against your thighs, your calves. 

your hand lifts to rest under his chin, tilting his head up to look at you again. how many kisses is this now? you can’t even think, now, not as you drag him in for another kiss. five? six? not enough, is the simple answer.

alec entertains the kiss for a few seconds before he’s pulling back, even taking a step away. your body chills at the loss of his heat, and the self awareness of how you must look to him. mostly naked, sprawled backwards on your bed, looking up at him with big, wide eyes. you open your mouth to say something snarky to him, anything to quell the heavy silence, when he whispers, “you’re so damn beautiful, nelly.” 

he undoes the buttons on his pants quickly, shoving them down his muscular thighs and pooling at his ankles. it’s intimidating, staring into the eyes of someone who was your best friend through and through, while neither of you are wearing anything besides undergarments. 

this was the guy who’d talked you out of making any rash decisions after you’d had the insult of killer kisser thrown in your face, all because of the girl your dna was cloned from. who squeezed your hands and told you to fuckin’ ignore them. what do they know? who’d been a cell apart from you in your psyops isolation, making sure he wasn’t infected with whatever rotted ben’s mind into darkness, and you weren’t susceptible to falling into hi

alec steps around you to sink onto the mattress beside you, shifting backwards until his back hits the concrete wall, turning so that he’s facing straight forward. his hands pat his thighs, nodding his head in gesture — or maybe to get you to stop ogling him like he was someone new and not your alec.

“lookin’ at me like you don’t know me,” he mumbles, reaching out to snatch your elbow when you don’t move. it’s intimidating. sitting in his lap with so little separating the two of you? of course you were hesitating! “don’t be ridiculous. m’still the guy you pushed down the stairs five years ago.” 

“that,” you exhale shakily, as you sit down on his thighs, desperately trying to ignore the heat beneath you, and the heat between your legs, “was an accident.”

“bull.” he moves his hands to the clasps of your bra, undoing each hook individually, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “i saw how you looked at me before you did it.” 

you bristle, shoving him back by the shoulder until his back presses against the cool concrete. “like i’m looking at you now?” 

slowly, he tugs the straps of your bra down your arms, his grin faltering as his eyes drift downward at the same time. “yeah.” he clears his throat. clears it again. “yeah, like you’re lookin’ at me now.” 

your eyes follow his, and you suck in a slow, deep breath. somehow, the fucker had talked his way into taking your bra off without you even noticing. kept you distracted long enough to not fuss over it. 

how many kisses out of a million could one man give? you hoped all of them. you hoped more than a million. 

the silence is heavy but it’s less awkward now. most of the hard parts were over, and you’d already established there was no reason to be nervous, not with alec. never with alec.

“here,” he says, his voice still coming out rasped even through his attempts otherwise to quell it. “hips up again f’me… yeah, just like that.” alec’s fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down until they’re caught where you’re straddling him. “left leg up… perfect, baby, right one… perfect, baby. absolutely perfect.” 

the praise makes you feel hot. sure, he’d said things like this before, praising each of your actions when you’d done good at training, or came back from a mission successful. this is different. intimate. 

"keep 'em up real quick, alright?" he murmurs, shifting beneath you enough to lift his own hips up, hands pulling down his boxers over his thighs. his hand slips, giving way to the nervousness he had buried deep, as it slaps against your bare thigh. "my bad," he chuckles lowly, kicking them off with the foot closest to the bed's edge. his fingers curl around your leg, kneading at the soft flesh. "you've got me all messed up in my head."

"enough to hit me?" you tease, your smile returning again to your lips. "that's cruel, alec. you said you weren't playing dirty."

"m'not," alec insists, his thumb catching your chin and dragging you down into a kiss, and then another.

you laugh on his lips, trying to shake free from his grip. "are too."

he sits up, chasing your mouth when you start to pull away, swallowing your lips in an onslaught of kisses. "i can show you 'playing dirty'." his hands slide down your sides, fingers brushing your ass as they firmly grasp your thighs, flipping the both of you so that your back is against the mattress.

you're strong enough to flip him back. to tackle him onto the mattress, to wrestle like you used to do when you were younger, and things were easier. you don't.

alec settles between your legs, using his hold on your thighs to lift your hips and align your entrance with the cock you have not looked at, nope, it feels too real to—

your eyes fall anyways when his do, watching him line himself up. all of his nervousness is gone again, like he teeters between it, only ever seeming to get nervous when it comes to addressing you. what you are. what this means. 

“still okay?” at your nod, he nods too. “okay, sweet girl. let me just—” his hand comes between the both of you, grasping his cock between his fingers, as he pushes the thick head of it inside of you, his head falling back as your wetness coats it. “jeeeesus.” 

“what?” you ask breathlessly, shifting to rest on your palms, glancing from his face to where he’s pulling out of you.

alec shakes his head, a grin spreading across his face. “nothing. nothing at all.” he pushes in again, slowly, deliberately, this time keeping his cock inside of your tight walls. “just thinking about you. always thinking about you.” his free hand goes to your shoulder, pushing you lightly back on the bed. “you just lay back and relax, alright? get out of that head.” 

how were you supposed to get out of your head when now, the thing circling around in it is how he so casually declared that he was always—

it’s uncomfortable, as he fills you up. like something is wrong, doesn’t belong. you were definitely wet enough to take him, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of something being off that tingles up your spine. 

“fuck, you’re so damn tight,” he groans, his voice as rough as gravel. alec rubs soothing circles into your skin with his thumb, before he lets his hand fall down to one of yours, grasping it in his. “squeeze if you wanna stop.” 

even through the discomfort, you didn’t want to stop. not only had the gap already been bridged, but… you liked it. liked him. more than you ever would have realized on your own. the further he pushes into you, still in that achingly slow pace as he lets your pussy adjust to the feel of him inside of it, the easier that adjustment gets. 

your fingers play with his, tracing over his knuckles, as your breaths tumble out in soft little pants. everything feels like its at a boiling point, like it’s seconds from spilling over. 

���you asked why i wasn’t scared,” he says under his breath suddenly, eyes lifting to meet yours through the deep dark of his eyelashes, once he’s to the hilt deep inside of you, his pelvis pressed to yours in a sharing of blistering hot skin. “do you want to know why?” 

he finishes the sentence, and slowly pulls back until his cock rests halfway inside of your throbbing pussy. the movement makes you whimper in your throat, the sound of it rough already. his fingers clamp around yours in reassurance. “i’ve thought about this a lot. that’s why.” 

“liar,” you manage to rasp, a breathless moan of laughter punctuating the words, “y’don’t have to make me feel better anymore. i’m not scared.” 

“i always,” alec thrusts into you again, quicker this time, already pulling back out, keeping that slow, leisurely pace until he’s absolutely certain you’re alright with the next part of it all, “always want to make you feel better.” 

another thrust in, and something shifts this time. you can feel every inch, and suddenly, a tremor of ecstasy replaces the full discomfort. you gasp, and he surges forward to hover over you properly now, like that one little noise was enough reassurance for him. 

“always want to take care of you, always want to make sure you’re happy,” alec continues, soft grunts slipping between his ramblings, “hell, i’ve thought about putting a baby in you before. just not… in this setting.” 

the words shoot straight downwards, making your already aching pussy throb, clenching tightly around him. “i’m not gonna break, alec,” you say, forehead pressed to his. you dig your nails into the back of his hand, not squeezing it so he doesn’t stop, but urging him further. “stop acting like you’re gonna snap me in half. i’ve pushed you down the stairs before.” 

alec laughs, but it works. he pulls out further with each thrust, slams into you harder, burying himself deeply inside of your wet pussy. “yeah, you have.” the sound of skin slapping together starts to echo around the room with the change in his pace, interrupted only by his throaty groans and your soft moans and, god, isn’t it awkward that there are guards outside? that this is what they’re subjected to hear every day, until you’re—

“you wanted— a baby with me,” you say, not as a question, and through the deep haze your mind is slipping into. 

“wanted to do this. wanted to fuck a baby into you. see you full of me,” he answers, and it must get him going, the image he paints for the both of you, because he speeds up further, drives deeper, and you can feel the head of his cock pushing against your cervix, making you groan aloud into his skin. “only at night, when it was just me, and i wished you were there, keeping me company. any time else, i could pretend like it was fine.” 

you laugh softly, shaking your head, and then he’s laughing too. “fucked up, schoolboy-manticore crush, huh?” his head falls further into the crook of your neck, pressing gentle kisses to your collarbone. “only this place could get me daydreaming about filling this pussy up with my cum. could get me - wanting to fuck up our whole friendship, just to hear those pretty sounds of yours.” 

your face flushes at the filthy words, even as it only stirs your arousal further along. you can feel it in the base of your spine, and suddenly, by their own volition, your hips are pressing against his in tandem, meeting each of his thrusts inside of you. he groans, the sound hot and vibrating on the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“look at me, will ya, pretty thing?” he asks, nose nudging your chin up to meet his eyes. blackened pupils swallow up the jade green of his eyes. your lips part as the pleasure builds and builds, each of your noises crescendoing in pace with alec’s relentless thrusts. “god, nelly—” 

you tip your head up a little more, enough to catch his mouth in a warm kiss. “it’s okay,” you say against the soft pink of his lips; your turn to comfort him, even if that’s the last thing he probably needs. 

“yeah,” he mumbles on your mouth, stealing a fervent amount of quick kisses. it might as well be a million right then, with the way you can’t clear your head enough to count.”s’all okay. more than okay. always okay with you.” 

“you don’t even know—” you choke out, interrupted by the desperate moans falling from your lips, free hand coming to hold onto his side and keep him deep, deep, deep. “don’t even know what you’re saying,” you manage to laugh.

“no,” alec laughs too, letting go of your hand and moving it and his other one to hold onto your thighs again. “no i don’t. lift this one up for me, yeah?” 

you uncurl your bent knee and rest it across the length of his body, and the new angle only makes it that much more intense. “m’not gonna last much longer.” 

alec is a nervous laugher. he can’t seem to stop while he thrusts into you. your defense mechanism is panic, his is undiluted joy. you hope it never changes about him. “thank fuck.” he turns his head to press a soft kiss to your ankle. “‘ve been hanging on by a fuckin’ thread.” 

“seriously?” you cackle. “alec.” 

it’s sweet, really, how even when your entire dynamic flipped on its head, neither of you changed. just like you’d promised. you’re still laughing in the heat of the moment together, still teasing each other in every possible way you could. “told you ‘ve been thinkin’ about this,” he grumbles in his defense, the little pout on his flushed face only pulling you closer and closer into your release’s tight grips, “can’t even blame m—” 

“oh, fuck—” you can’t blame him, because you never gave him the time to pitch his argument fully, cutting him off. each breath you draw in is strained, in time with the pounding he’s giving to your clenching pussy. “oh, fuck, alec—” 

“hey, language, pretty thing, there’s—” one last thrust, harder than the others, his hips stuttering their movements as he pushes out a shaky exhale into your shoulder. your head falls back into the mattress, dug into the springs as you buck into him, his cock against your cervix as he spills his cum inside of you. the feel of him twitching inside of you, of the warmth seeping from your fluttering walls and warm down your spread legs, reducing you to a muddled mess of pleasure in his arms. unintelligible words on your tongue, pleads or his name or something, you don’t even know, don’t even know what you were trying to say. 

alec brushes his fingers across your forehead, pushing the sweaty hairs off of your skin. “was gonna tell you to watch your mouth, but i’m pretty sure you just swore me up and down in three different languages at once.” 

your limbs feel boneless, but you do manage to swat at his bare chest, heated skin on heated skin. “shut up.” 

“nah.” he scoops you into his arms, not yet having pulled out of you, as he cradles you to his chest. “we’re just gettin’ started, aren’t we?”

the answer is that one man can give a million kisses, and it doesn't take a lifetime — just a director's order and a dream.

tags, @jasvtsc @deanswidow @ostaramoon @angelblqde @depressionbarbie2023

@poughkeepsie99 @chi-raz @beausling @artyandink @figthoughts

[earthchica]

Funny How Times Flies | 5

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: you and terry have been locked in your relationship for five months, and with the holidays approaching, you both agree to finally meet each other’s families.

warnings: explicit smut (18+), slow jams, making love, oral (f), fluff, encouragement, family gathering, angst, anxiety, mention of a pregnancy scare, mention of kids and marriage, thanksgiving, words: (4k)

Note: Hiiii. I hope y'all eat some good food today and have a good time with your family. Please enjoy! Let me know your thoughts and if you want to be tagged in future parts.

series masterlist

-

You and Terry have been dating for nearly five months, and it has been so wonderful. Like any couple, you've faced ups and downs; for instance, Terry hasn't found a job since moving to Lafayette, and you had a pregnancy scare.

Fortunately, both of you were relieved to discover you weren't pregnant, but it did spark an honest conversation about wanting kids and getting married to each other one day.

Living together now has undeniably grown you both as a couple. You've fallen more deeply in love with Terry than before. Just waking up and seeing his handsome face every day was everything.

Of course, both of you established clear boundaries that have fostered responsibility, trust, and respect in your relationship. A gentle breeze pulled you from your thoughts, and you adjusted to the soft sunlight that filtered through the trees.

You gaze over at Terry, and you can't help but smile at him laying on his back on the picnic blanket. His eyes were closed peacefully, and his chest rose and fell gently with each breath.

You turn your gaze away from him and absorb the atmosphere around you. The park presents a stunning autumn scene, filled with the sounds of chirping birds and the rustling of fallen leaves.

Though the day's warmth is slightly more intense than you'd hoped for, it only adds to the coziness of the moment. You blink, pulling yourself out of your daydreaming, and turn your attention back to Terry.

You can't help but wonder what he said moments before, triggering his soft chuckle. You feel a warmth spread through you, a mix of affection and curiosity, and you can’t wait to hear what’s on his mind.

“I’ve been trying to find the best way to express this, but I’m not sure how—” Terry starts, his words tumbling out in a rush as he begins to ramble, quickly losing his train of thought.

You watch him with concern, sensing his hesitation. “What is it, T?” you ask gently, placing your hand softly on his arm to offer reassurance.

After taking a deep breath, he suddenly looks directly at you, his eyes sparkling excitedly. “I want you to meet my family,” he declares, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

Surprised and nervous, you widen your eyes and respond, “Really? You mean, like… your parents and your family?” Terry nodded eagerly, his bright, expressive eyes gleaming with warmth and genuine affection.

A wide, sincere smile stretched across his face. “Yes, baby! I want my family to finally meet the incredible woman I’m in love with,” he proclaimed, his voice infused with enthusiasm that hung like a melody in the crisp air around you.

“They’ve been constantly asking about you and are practically excited about getting to know you!” His heartfelt words enveloped you in a comforting embrace, easing the nervous flutter of uncertainty gripping your stomach.

The notion of becoming part of his family ignited a joyful spark within you, painting vivid images in your mind of laughter-filled gatherings and shared experiences.

Yet, despite the warmth swelling in your chest, you couldn’t shake a twinge of hesitation. You glanced at him, unsure of the expectations swirling around this moment.

Noticing the uncertainty in your expression, Terry's demeanor shifted. The enthusiasm in his eyes dimmed slightly as a shadow of concern crossed his face.

He shifted his gaze downward, struggling with his own words. Clearing his throat, he spoke again, his voice softening to a more tentative tone.

“But if you don’t think you’re ready for that, then it’s completely okay,” Terry said, his sincerity evident. He rose from the soft blanket as he took a few steps away.

You stood up immediately, your heart urging you to bridge the space between you. With a gentle resolve, you walked toward him and wrapped your arms around his waist. "Terry, I'm ready"

The sweetness of your voice prompted him to turn around, and in that moment, his expression shifted. Wonder flickered in his eyes, quickly replaced by gratitude and hope.

"I would love to meet your family, Terry!" you said with a warm, inviting smile, excited at the thought. He paused for a moment, his expression shifting to one of surprise.

"Wait, are you sure?" he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Yes!" you replied confidently, your heart racing. Terry’s face broke into a bright smile, unable to contain his joy.

He scooped you up effortlessly and spun you around in a playful circle. "Terry, put me down!" you laughed with exhilaration and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm glad to hear that! I was going to ask you if you wanted to go with me this Thursday coming up for Thanksgiving," he said, gently setting you back on your feet but still holding you close.

"Of course I want to go! But only if you come with me to my parents' house tomorrow," you proposed, playfully poking your lips towards him, eyes closed in anticipation. "Seal it with a kiss."

He leaned in and kissed you passionately, sending a warm rush through your body. "Mmm, Terry…why do you have to do that with your tongue?" you purred, biting your lip.

You gazed up into his eyes; the playfulness between you was real. He shrugged, a smirk dancing across his lips. "Don’t act like you don’t love it," he teased.

Terry suddenly grabbed your ass, causing you to squeal in surprise and delight. You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of affection and lust.

-

It was a bright, sunny day, the kind where the warmth of the sun seemed to create a joyful atmosphere. You and Terry strolled hand in hand along the familiar path to your parents' ranch home.

As you approached the front door, Terry glanced down at his clothes for the fifth time, a nervous look on his face. “Do I look good?” he asked, adjusting a collar that didn’t need fixing.

You chuckled softly, your heart swelling with affection. “Sweetie, you look absolutely handsome. Stop worrying! Now come on!” you reassured him, flashing a warm smile before pressing the doorbell.

After moments of waiting, the door swung open, revealing your mom with a beaming smile illuminating her face. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around you in a tight, loving hug.

“Hi, Mama,” you said, relishing the comfort of her embrace before gently pulling away.

“Hey, my baby girl—Oh,” she began, stopping mid-sentence as her eyes landed on Terry.

“Oh, hello! You must be Terry. It's so nice to finally meet you! We’ve heard so much about you!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a firm, welcoming hug.

“We would have loved to meet you sooner, but…” she teased, giving you a playful glance filled with maternal affection.

“It’s truly nice to meet you too, ma’am,” Terry replied, a little taken aback by the warmth of her greeting as he pulled away, looking genuinely pleased.

“Come on in, you two!” Your mom said, stepping aside to let both of you enter. The interior of your childhood home felt inviting and warm, filled with cherished memories.

Terry's eyes widened as he took in the various elements that hinted at your upbringing. “You have a lovely house,” he said, glancing around the cozy living room and noting family photos adorning the walls.

Each picture told a story, capturing moments of laughter and love with you and your parents. He added, “It feels so homey here.” You looked up at him and felt pleased to see the look in his eyes.

“Why, thank you, honey!” your mom replied, closing the front door gently behind you. Her eyes sparkled with appreciation, and Terry nodded admiringly at her.

His earlier nerves started to dissipate, and he switched his attention back to you, a sweet smile lighting up his face. Your mom led you both into the living room.

Your dad and some other family members were waiting there. He was seated on the couch, a comforting presence exuding the authority of a protective father.

"Hey...now, there's my sweet pea," your dad said, clapping his hands and standing up. He quickly crossed the room to envelop you in a warm, tight hug.

"Hi, Dad!" you said with a chuckle before pulling away from the hug to motion him towards Terry. “Who’s this?” Your dad asked, glancing over at Terry, his brow slightly furrowed.

Terry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a subtle sign of his nervousness, while you instinctively squeezed his hand, offering him strength.

“Dad, this is Terry, my boyfriend,” you proudly introduced him, smiling warmly at your dad. “And Terry, this is my dad.” Terry took a deep breath, clearly feeling the weight of your dad’s scrutinizing gaze.

You shifted your eyes nervously between them, hoping this potentially awkward moment would pass without incident. “Terry, huh?” your dad began, his expression severe and unwelcoming.

“So, Terry, what are your intentions with my daughter?” your dad asked. Your heart raced a little at the question, but you understood your dad's protective instincts came from a caring place.

Sensing the moment's gravity, Terry straightened his posture, his voice steady and confident. “I intend to treat her with the respect and the love she deserves, sir. She means a lot to me;"

Terry moves his eyes away from your dad to look at you. "I love her and care deeply about her. I see myself spending the rest of my life with her, honestly.”

Your heart fluttered as you smiled at him, and Your dad nodded thoughtfully, a satisfied smile slowly creeping onto his face as he assessed Terry's response.

“Good answer. If you treat her right, we won’t have any problems. But let me be clear: if you hurt her in any way, you’ll have to answer to me and my shotgun.”

Terry was confused on the last part until your dad pointed the shot gun above the fireplace. He nodded, quickly understanding. “I understand, sir. I promise,” Terry replied.

“Alright then,” your dad said, visibly relaxing now. “Welcome to the family, son.” He extended his hand, and Terry shook it firmly, smiling genuinely.

Feeling a wave of relief wash over you, you laughed lightly. “Okay, let me introduce you to everyone else,” you said, taking his hand again and leading him deeper into the living room.

With a bright smile and eagerness, you announced to your family, “Hey, everyone! This is Terry, my boyfriend! Terry, this is my Uncle Eddie, my dad's brother, and his wife, my Aunt Clara,”

You pointed to each as you went along, “And over there are their kids, my cousins, Mia and Jalen.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Terry said, offering a warm smile as he waved, his nervousness fading as he engaged with your family.

“Welcome! It’s about time we finally met the guy who has our niecy smiling so much!” Aunt Clara exclaimed, her voice full of warmth as she pulled Terry into a hug as tight as your mom’s.

“Yeah, if you keep making her this happy, we’ve never seen her glow so bright!” Mia joked, her playful tone earning hearty laughter from the group.

You rolled your eyes at their teasing but couldn’t help but smile wider. “Alright, alright! Enough of that!” you said, laughing along. As the conversation flowed effortlessly.

The atmosphere in the room became lively and inviting, filled with laughter and childhood stories from your family. Soon, you all were around the table, and Terry gradually relaxed, engaging with everyone.

The mouthwatering aroma of the food wafted through the air, filling the room with the comforting scent of soul food, which always brought a sense of warmth and joy during family gatherings on holidays.

Dishes brimming with fried chicken wings, ham, collard greens, macaroni and cheese, and cornbread were spread across the table, each a testament to home-cooked love and tradition.

After everyone had gathered and offered a heartfelt blessing over the meal, you all began eating and drifted into a conversation about anything.

Your parents asked Terry a series of questions to learn more about him, curious about his interests and background. You chimed in with answers to ease his nervousness, sharing details that highlighted Terry's personality and values.

As the conversation progressed, your dad seemed particularly fascinated by Terry's marine background. The more they talked, the more your parents began to appreciate him.

Their growing fondness for him was reflected in their expressions and laughter. It was clear that Terry was making a solid impression, and you couldn’t help but feel happy seeing them get along so well.

“So, Terry,” Uncle Eddie said, leaning back in his chair with a stern demeanor, “Since you've been done here, have you found a job?” He asked.

You and Terry exchanged an apprehensive glance, silently communicating the unexpected question. “Uh...no...I’m still looking for a job, sir,” Terry replied, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

“Wait, you’re telling me you’ve moved here to be with her, but you’re not working? Sounds like a cozy arrangement,” he remarked, his tone sharper.

Terry kept his composure, responding steadily, “I’m actively looking for a job, sir. Moving here was a big step for me, and I want to ensure I find the right fit.”

Aunt Clara chimed in, “Oh, come on, Eddie! It’s tough out there with the job market right now. Give the boy a break.” But your uncle wasn’t finished.

“Sure, but it sounds like he’s just living off her. What’s he contributing?” he pressed, crossing his arms, a challenging look in his eyes.

You felt the tension rise and placed a reassuring hand on Terry’s lap. “Unc, please chill out. Terry has been incredibly supportive of me, and he’s been working hard to find a job that suits him.”

“Supportive, huh?” Uncle Eddie countered. “What the hell does that even mean? How supportive can you be if you’re not bringing in income?”

Terry spoke up, his tone calm but firm. “I may not be working right now, but I’m doing everything I can to help around the house and support her emotionally.”

Your dad jumped in, sensing the growing hostility. “Alright, Eddie, that’s enough. Everyone’s situation is different; judging Terry without knowing him is unfair. He’s trying, and that's what counts.”

“Exactly,” your mom added, giving Eddie a pointed look. “Remember when you were struggling to get started? It takes time, and moving to a new place is hard. Terry deserves our support, not criticism.”

Mia and Jalen nodded in agreement. “Yeah, Pops, you’re being a bit harsh,” Jalen said. With a sigh, Uncle Eddie relented slightly. “Well, he’d better step up soon if he wants to stick around,” he muttered.

The conversation gradually shifted back to lighter topics, but you felt proud of Terry for standing his ground. You squeezed his hand, and he smiled slightly in appreciation.

After dinner, everyone moved into the living room to talk and play games; you took Terry's hand and led him upstairs into your old bedroom.

“I’m really sorry about my uncle; he can be quite overwhelming at times,” you said, observing Terry as he scanned your room uncertainly.

It felt like the silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words. He was lost in thought, maybe processing everything around him.

“Terry, baby, you know you can talk to me,?” you asked softly, your hand finding his shoulder gently. You assured him he could lean on you, especially in such moments.

Terry turned towards you, revealing the anxiety in his eyes. “I want to give you what you deserve and to provide for you; I can't do that without a job,” he began.

“Terry, don’t worry about my uncle; he just like talking shit. You’re doing your best, and I love you so much for that,” you reassured him.

“It’s not all about what you provide; it’s about the love we share and the support we give each other. You are a good man with a good heart. Remember, we’re doing this together.”

Terry looked into your eyes, his expression softening. “You always know how to lift me up.”

Desiring to lighten the mood further, "I know, handsome" you said with a playful grin, “How about a joke? What do you call fake spaghetti?”

Terry raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “I don’t know, what?”

“An impasta!” you giggled, and to your delight, he broke into laughter, the tension easing away.

“What? That was terrible!” he chuckled, cringing while shaking his head, but the smile on his face told you it had worked.

“Well, I have plenty more where that came from!” you teased playfully, stepping closer to him, eager to close the distance between you.

Your lips met in a sweet, lingering kiss that seemed to capture the essence of your togetherness and love. When you finally pulled away, you gazed into his eyes, which sparkled with affection.

“I love you, Terry. I truly believe things will work out; we just have to keep the faith,” you said earnestly.

“I love you too, baby. Thank you,” he replied softly, a genuine smile lighting up his face and warming your heart. Hand in hand, you both left the cozy confines of the bedroom.

Just as you stepped into the hallway, Uncle Eddie appeared unexpectedly, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight of you. “Hey, there you are!” he exclaimed, but his demeanor quickly shifted to one of concern.

“I was just looking for you two. I want to apologize for my earlier behavior. I’m really sorry, Terry, and I’m sorry to both of you. It was unnecessary,” your uncle admitted, sincerity evident in his voice.

You glanced at Terry, who nodded in acknowledgment. “It's cool,” he responded, showing he appreciated the gesture.

“Um, Terry,” Uncle Eddie continued, his tone shifting to a more serious note.

“I remember you talking about your jiu-jitsu training in the Marines. How would you feel about a job at my training school?” His eyes reflected genuine interest, and you gasped in disbelief.

Terry’s expression transformed into one of astonishment. “What? For real? Really?” he questioned, his voice a mix of excitement and surprise.

“Absolutely! It’s the least I could do after everything. Plus, I could really use someone with your skills and passion. We can discuss the details later,” Uncle Eddie said, his voice laced with enthusiasm as he reached out to shake Terry's hand firmly.

“Oh, and you both are a beautiful couple. I wish you two the best,” he added warmly, glancing between you, showing a sense of remorse for his previous actions.

“Thank you, Uncle Eddie,” you said, your smile wide as you appreciated his words and the generous offer. He nodded, visibly relieved, before turning to make his way back to the living room.

Feeling pride and excitement for Terry, you squeezed his hand tightly. “See? Just like I said, things work out,” you beamed at him, confidence bubbling within you.

Terry grinned back, his self-assurance visibly restored. At that moment, it felt as though everything was finally aligning perfectly in your lives.

-

A few days passed, and the long-awaited day finally arrived: Thanksgiving. Today, you will be meeting Terry's family, and you have been preparing for this moment.

Terry carefully backed into a parking spot, allowing you to take in the cozy, welcoming home adorned with autumn decorations. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the introductions ahead.

Terry touched your lap and said, "You have nothing to worry about, baby. My family is going to love you, I promise." His comforting words boosted your spirits.

You both stepped out of the car and took a deep breath to ensure you looked presentable. Hand in hand with Terry, you walked toward the front door.

Just as you reached the halfway point, the door swung open to reveal a brown-skinned, petite, slim woman with dark brown, short hair. She stepped out of the front door to greet Terry, and when her eyes shifted to you.

You smiled shyly and said, "Hi!" Your heart raced a little as you stepped into Terry's mother's welcoming presence. She was beautiful, and it was clear where he inherited his good looks.

"Oh, hi, beautiful! Welcome to the family!" she exclaimed with warmth in her voice, and before you could respond, she enveloped you in a tight hug.

The sweet scent of her perfume filled your nose, instantly putting you at ease. You smiled back at her, and the warmth of her embrace made you feel accepted.

As you pulled away, you glanced at Terry, who was watching the exchange with a beaming smile, who was delighted. His contagious happiness made you feel even more welcome in this new family.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Richmond," you said, pulling away from the hug. She grinned and replied, "Oh, it's very nice to meet you too. Come on in."

As she walked you into her beautiful house, you exclaimed, "Wow, something smells good!"

Mrs. Richmond smiled and said, "Yes, dinner is almost ready. Terry, you and your girlfriend should get settled into the guest bedroom. Not everyone is here yet."

“Sure, Ma,” Terry replied, leaning down to kiss his mom’s cheek quickly before effortlessly grabbing both of your suitcases. You followed him upstairs to the cozy guest bedroom.

After freshening up and gathering your thoughts, you felt excitement mixed with nerves. Once you both returned downstairs, Terry introduced you to his dad.

"Nice to meet you, young lady" He welcomed you with a warm smile and a firm handshake. You couldn't deny how much Terry resembled his father.

Mr. Richmond exuded kindness, making you feel at ease right away. Then you met with his brother and sister, and things went similarly well; they were full of laughter, tales, and good-natured teasing.

His uncle was funny. "I see you, nephew" his uncle whispered, giving him a nudge. His niece and nephews, bursting with energy, excitedly informed you about his favorite movies and toys.

Terry's family welcomed you with genuine smiles, complimented your appearance, and was happy to finally meet you. This warmth washed away lingering nerves and filled your heart with a sense of belonging.

As you settled into the family dynamic, you laughed and joked with Janelle, his older sister. Her vibrant personality made your conversation flow easily.

However, while sharing a light-hearted story, your gaze drifted toward Terry. You couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly he played with his nieces and nephews.

Janelle noticed your distraction, followed your gaze and her expression turned knowing. “Wow?” she said, raising an eyebrow playfully.

You shifted your attention to her, feeling caught. “What?” you asked, feigning innocence. Janelle continued, “I’ve never seen anyone look at my brother like you do. You’re really in love with him, huh?”

Her words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily stunned that she had picked up on your feelings. You laughed shyly, brushing your hair back as you contemplated responding.

"Yes, yes, I am!" Your gaze drifted again to your boyfriend. Terry caught your gaze, and you both looked at each other lovingly. Before he could react, one of his nephews tackled him to the ground.

You giggled quietly and turned back to Janelle. "You know. I have known Terry all his life," She began with a smile.

"And he's never introduced anyone to the family before," Janelle said with a warm smile, "but until now, you might just be the one, girl. I'm really happy to see my brother with someone like you." Her words surprised you, and a swell of warmth filled your chest.

"Wow! Thanks, Janelle. That really means a lot to me, and I sincerely hope I am," you replied, feeling a rush of warmth and happiness. The atmosphere around you was inviting, and it felt like you were beginning to carve out a place in their family.

You and Janelle moved on to discuss—everything from favorite movies to embarrassing childhood stories—until Terry approached, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Hey, do you want to join us for a game of spades?" he asked, nodding toward his mom and Shawn, seated at the smaller dining room table.

"Yeah," you answered. After a few lively rounds of the card game, filled with laughter and friendly banter, you felt more comfortable with his family.

It was nice to connect and share these moments. Once the game concluded and the evening wound down, you and Terry bid goodnight to everyone.

Hand in hand, you ascended the staircase to the guest bedroom. As you removed your jewelry, relishing the feeling of the day winding down.

Terry wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin gently on your shoulder, creating a cocoon of warmth. "Wasn't it so bad after all?" he asked, his voice low and comforting.

You placed your earrings carefully in your bag and, still caught in his embrace, shook your head in agreement. "So why were you so nervous?" Terry asked, turning you to face him.

His eyes searched yours for an answer. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, trying to convey your feelings through the embrace.

"Honestly, I should be asking you the same thing!" You said, looking up at him sweetly. “Nah…I asked you first, baby girl," Terry replied playfully.

His expression softened into that sweet look you adored—the kind that assured you that you could share anything with him, the look indicating that, from the very beginning, you were meant to be together.

"I don't know," you started, feeling vulnerable yet open. "I just had this notion in my head that they wouldn’t like me, you know? But, of course, I was proved wrong. Your family is incredibly sweet, and I love them."

"I feel the same way about your family," Terry said, his expression earnest. "And honestly, even if things hadn't gone perfectly, it wouldn’t matter because I never let you go. Plus, I feel you’re destined to be Mrs. Richmond."

Your heart flipped at his words, and your eyes sparkled with joy. You couldn't hold back the surge of emotion; you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

"I'm never letting you go, either, Terry. I’m forever yours!" you declared confidently, resting your foreheads together. Terry kissed you, but it became a bit heated. *edited* added some smut

Terry placed his hand under your skirt, feeling his fingers caressing against your now wet panties. You put a hand on his chest, halting him just inches from you. "Terry, we're not about to get it on in your parents' house."

He flashed a playful smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned in closer, pressing his warm chest against yours. "Come on, baby," he urged, his voice low.

"All we have to do is be quiet." You raised an eyebrow in playful disbelief, curiosity mingling with a hint of challenge in your gaze. "Oh really? And how exactly do you plan on keeping me quiet?"

A smile tugged at your lips as you leaned in slightly, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "You know you love it when I get loud."

Terry took a step back, a glint of determination in his eyes. "I promise this time will be different. Just trust me. I’ll lock the door and play some music to drown out any sounds," he whispered, leaning in to gently kiss your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

His words and the warmth of his breath against your skin made it hard to resist. You could feel your resolve softening as the moment's thrill washed over you. Slowly, you found yourself giving in, your heart racing with excitement.

Terry went to the Bluetooth speaker on the dresser, connected his phone, and began playing some slow jams. He turned back to you, giving you a look that you couldn't deny.

"Fine," you finally said, a smile creeping onto your lips and the lust hanging in the air. You pulled him down into a kiss, and both of you began taking each other's clothes off.

Terry lays you down on the bed, and you let a light moan as he begins kissing your inner thighs before giving your wet pussy lips the soft pecks it deserve.

You cover your mouth, trying to keep quiet as he spreads your legs out a little wider before going back to eating you out. You removed your hand from your lips and bit your lip.

You began rolling your hips to feel his face against your pussy, "Terry...ahh, it feels so good," you whimpered, and he looked up for a second with your juice on his face.

Terry plunging back between your legs and your eyes rolled in the back of your head, secured your hips up an inch to get a little bit more.

He let out a little growl, gripping your lower back to rock your hips against his face, soaking his nose and mouth. "Oh fuck…Terry. So feels good."

You cried in pleasure; that was always music to his ears. Terry couldn't get enough of hearing you telling him how he made you feel and the pleasure he gave you.

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head when you felt his tongue hit a good sweet spot. "Mmm, you're doing good, baby," He declares so deeply, voice sending shrinks down your spine to your dripping cunt.

Terry dives back in, tongue dipping in and out of your hole at an unforgiving pace. You gripped the sheets, "Yes, just like that." You whisper, feeling yourself get already close.

"Does my good girl need to come?" Terry asked in a whispter, and you nodded, shaking and tense. "I'm so close Terry…can I cum, please?" you whimpered, voice wavering more and more.

"Cum for me, baby," he ordered and you did, crying out his name…shaking from the mindblowing climax. You lay there quietly, trying to get yourself together.

Terry began kissing up your body to your lips, and you moaned tasting the juice of your cum on his tongue. You felt his hand grip your plump waist and wrapping your legs around his waist.

Terry pulled away and smirked, filling you up perfectly; you silently him as he moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him tight.

His forehead leaned against your forehead, pulling out slightly before thrusting back in. The thrusts were slowly and gently, the breathless moans between you, and the music wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

"Shit...baby, you're the best thing that happened to me; you lift me up, love me for who I am, and I'm forever thankful you know that," Terry whispered, kissing your neck.

"Yes, ahhh Terry. I'm so happy I met you on that trip, you give me so I'm thankful for you, too," you whispered, getting emotional as you looked deeply into his beautiful eyes.

Terry wipes your tears away and kisses you for a few minutes before lifting your leg to be on his shoulder to go deeper. "So deep, so fucking deep Terry"

You let out a light moan, placing your hand on the back of your leg to keep it steady as the music drives out the sounds of your skins slapping togather.

"Fuck, I love you baby." Terry moans, leaning his forehead against yours and looking into your eyes deeply, thrusting a little faster, setting a steady rhythm.

"Ah…Terry….I love you, I love so fucking much" You moaned softly, feeling your pussy clenching around his dick. Terry kisses you and feels yourself getting ready to orgasm.

"I'm gonna come," You whispered in a moan, pulling away from the kiss. "You're gonna come, huh? Fuck Me too, baby, I'm gonna fill you up, would like that," He whispers in your ear.

"Yes, yes, fill me up with your come, please, Terry, I need it," You said, pulling him into another kiss as he thrust a few times, and you both came together, muffling each other's names.

You felt the streams of his hot cum dropping out of your pussy once he pulled out. "Mmm, that's all me coming out of you" He smirks, glancing down at your pussy proudly.

You and Terry went to take a warm shower together. The steam filled the small bathroom, creating a cozy atmosphere as you washed away the fantastic sex you just had.

Once you finished, you both slipped into soft pajamas, feeling comfortable and relaxed. As you settled into bed, you turned toward him and rested your head gently on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Terry wrapped his arms around you, drawing you closer with a tender embrace, his hands softly caressing your arms. At that moment, everything felt right, and you knew nothing could stand in the way of this beautiful love between you both.

[hannahssimblr]

On narrow, shaded streets we amble among the crowd, past at all the little souvenir shops hawking bags and t-shirts, postcards and beaded bracelets. I grin at a magnet of a little fat faced chef, riding a vespa with a pizza in his hand. Something about his expression reminds me of Jonas.

“My stepdad used to buy magnets like that all the time,” Astrid says when I show her. “He thought they were so funny, but my sisters and I hated them. Their faces are creepy. They leer at you. The day he broke up with our mother, we threw them immediately into the trash.”

I buy it anyway. 

Outside a craft shop, she plucks a ceramic jug from a shelf to scrutinise. It is hand-painted in with delicate foliage in blue paint. “I think I could make something like this at university, don’t you?”

“Well, maybe this trip will inspire a collection of work for your pottery class,” I say, and she lifts it up to the sun, glinting upon the glaze. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“Would you like it?”

She smiles. “I would. It’s so unusual.”

I get it for her, then carry the little package, wrapped carefully in tissue paper, around as she flits from store to store, finding inspiration in the art she sees. Inspiration comes to me, too, in the colours, the shapes, the slash of sky in negative space between buildings. I photograph it all. The fruit stands little dogs sleeping in doorways, bougainvillea cascading down whitewashed buildings, and laugh with delight as a little yellow car squeezes a path through a crowd of pedestrians. I marvel at this little town, and all the pockets of the world that still cling to so much charm.

“This is exactly what I needed,” says Astrid, on the terrace of a cafe overlooking the sea. 

“Coffee?”

“Yes, and all of this. The sun, the air. I have been so tired of Berlin lately, and the sky being so grey.”

“You’ve been bored.”

“A little, yes.”

We order coffees. Ristretto for her, Americano for me. The server eyes me with some savage combination of amusement and contempt. I imagine his thoughts. “Of course you would order this, American boy,” the man in my head says, and I force myself to smile at the real one. “Thanks”. 

“Grazie.” Astrid hisses.

“Oh, alright. Grazie. Sorry.”

As he returns with our order, he says something to Astrid in Italian. She responds, then him, and in front of me they have an entire conversation I cannot understand. I sit, sip my coffee, and wait for them to finish. Whatever he is saying, he’s very enthusiastic about it, gesticulating, hands moving passionately. I try not to be bothered when he points at me, and Astrid laughs at whatever he has to say, even though the heat of embarrassment rises to my face. If he’s saying something about me, I can’t defend myself. How frustrating it is not to understand another language being spoken right in front of you. Eventually, he leaves, and she simply straightens her dress underneath her and takes a dainty sip of her coffee. 

“What were you two talking about?” I say, after several moments. 

“Oh, nothing really. He was just asking me where we are from.”

“Right.” I trace the rim on my cup with my fingertip. “Just I think I understood something he said to you.”

Her brows rise in dull surprise. “Oh?”

“Bella,” I say, “As in, beautiful.”

“Oh, yes, he was talking about the weather. ‘Una giornata bella’, he said. ‘A beautiful day’.”

“What did he say about me?”

“About you?”

“Yes. When he pointed at me.”

“He said you don’t look Danish, and I agreed, because you aren’t.”

“Oh.”

“You’re self conscious?”

“No, just, I didn’t know what he was saying. I didn’t know if he was flirting with you in front of my face.”

“Italian men are very passionate about a lot of things. Perhaps it looked like that, but he was being friendly.”

I exhale a laugh. “Giornata bella, huh?”

“If he said ‘bella’ regarding me, it wouldn’t be okay?”

I pause. “Well, I don’t know. Calling another guy’s girlfriend beautiful in front of him is kind of on the line between okay and not okay, don’t you think?”

A shrug. “What if it’s true? Shouldn’t we allow people to appreciate beauty? To see it, and say something? What if I like to hear it? Would you prefer to see me locked away from the world?”

“Of course not,” I scoff. “I’m not one of those weird boyfriends that only wants you for myself.”

“I’m glad you said that,” she gazes at a lone seabird, whirling, spiralling above the bay. “Because I could never handle that. That will never be how we are.”

I smirk. “Yes, ma’am.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[woso-story]

The Next Step

Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon

Mapi sat on the balcony of her apartment, staring out at the Barcelona skyline. Normally, this view calmed her, but tonight, her thoughts were anything but calm. She had been with Ingrid for three wonderful years. Three years of laughter, love, and building a life together. She knew Ingrid was the one—she’d known it for a long time.

But proposing? That felt monumental. What if it was too soon? What if Ingrid wasn’t ready for marriage? The fear of rejection gnawed at her, no matter how much she tried to shake it off.

“I need advice,” Mapi muttered to herself, pulling out her phone. She fired off two messages: one to Alexia Putellas and the other to Esmee Brugts.

---

The next day, Mapi met Alexia at a cozy café near Camp Nou. Alexia, ever the team captain, got straight to the point.

“So, you’re finally doing it,” Alexia said with a grin, stirring her coffee.

Mapi sighed, leaning her elbows on the table. “I think so. I mean, I want to. I’ve wanted to for a while. But what if it’s too early? Or what if she doesn’t want to get married at all?”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “Mapi, you and Ingrid are soulmates. Everyone can see how much you love each other. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Mapi hesitated. “Still, what if I mess it up?”

“Keep it simple,” Alexia said. “Do it somewhere meaningful, somewhere private. You know Ingrid—she’s not about flashy gestures.”

---

Later that evening, Mapi called Esmee. The young Dutch player had become like a little sister to both her and Ingrid.

“You’re really going to propose?” Esmee asked excitedly. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mapi said, laughing nervously. “But do you think Ingrid even wants to get married?”

“Are you kidding? She adores you,” Esmee said. “And you’ve been together for three years. That’s not rushing anything.”

Mapi smiled, her confidence growing. “Okay, so where should I do it?”

Esmee thought for a moment. “You’re going on holiday to Portugal soon, right? Do it there. Somewhere beautiful and private. Maybe at the beach?”

Mapi nodded slowly. “Yeah, that could work.”

---

A week later, Mapi and Ingrid arrived in Portugal for their much-anticipated vacation. They spent their days exploring the charming streets of Lisbon and relaxing on sun-soaked beaches. Every moment felt perfect, but Mapi’s nerves grew as the day of her planned proposal approached.

On their second-to-last evening, Mapi suggested a sunset walk along a quiet stretch of beach. Ingrid happily agreed, her hand slipping into Mapi’s as they strolled along the shore.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Mapi stopped. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding.

“Ingrid,” she began, turning to face her girlfriend.

Ingrid tilted her head, her expression soft. “What is it?”

Mapi reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box. Dropping to one knee, she opened it to reveal a simple but elegant ring.

“I’ve known for a long time that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You make me better, you make me happy, and I can’t imagine a future without you. Will you marry me?”

For a moment, Ingrid was speechless, her green eyes wide with surprise. Then, tears filled her eyes as a radiant smile spread across her face.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Of course, yes!”

Mapi slipped the ring onto Ingrid’s finger, and they embraced, the sound of the waves crashing around them.

---

The next morning, Mapi posted a photo on Instagram: the two of them on the beach, their hands intertwined, with Ingrid’s new ring prominently displayed. The caption read: She said yes. My forever.

The comments section exploded almost immediately.

Fans from around the world flooded the post with congratulations, their joy palpable. The women’s football world buzzed with excitement over the engagement.

---

When Mapi and Ingrid returned to Barcelona, they were greeted by a surprise. Their teammates had organized a celebration at a local venue, complete with decorations, food, and even their parents in attendance.

Mapi’s jaw dropped when she walked in. “You guys didn’t have to do this!”

Alexia grinned, raising a glass. “Of course, we did. It’s not every day we get to celebrate a León-Engen engagement!”

The night was filled with laughter, heartfelt toasts, and plenty of dancing. Ingrid’s parents beamed with pride, while Mapi’s family embraced Ingrid as one of their own.

As the party wound down, Mapi pulled Ingrid aside. “I still can’t believe you said yes,” she said teasingly.

Ingrid laughed, wrapping her arms around Mapi. “How could I not? I love you more than anything.”

Mapi kissed her softly, her heart full. She knew this was just the beginning of the next chapter in their story—a story of love, commitment, and a future they couldn’t wait to build together.

[koyagifs]

𝓹𝓲𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰

pairing: pirate!wooyoung x mermaid!reader au: pirate au genre: angst | word count: 1.123k synopsis: wooyoung couldn't help falling in love with his best friend, the best friend that happens to be a mermaid warning(s):

Wooyoung sat cross-legged on the warm sand, his fingers fidgeting with a small pebble as he watched the waves crash gently against the shore. This beach had always been their safe haven—a place where they could laugh, vent, and share their dreams under the blanket of the sky. Tonight was no different, except for the storm raging in Wooyoung's chest.

The horizon was painted in hues of orange and pink, the setting sun reflecting off the water in a way that made everything feel surreal. Wooyoung glanced to his side, where you sat, your gaze fixed on the ocean. You looked peaceful, the corners of your lips curling in a soft smile as the breeze played with your hair.

But Wooyoung couldn’t focus on the beauty of the moment. His thoughts were a whirlwind of anxiety and hope. This wasn’t just another evening at their spot. Tonight, he had made a decision—one that he had rehearsed countless times in his mind but never had the courage to voice.

Wooyoung's lips parted, the words he'd been holding onto for so long ready to spill out—but before he could speak, a familiar voice called out from behind them.

"Hey, Wooyoung! Yn!"

The sound of his captain's voice made Wooyoung tense. He turned his head, his shoulders slumping slightly when he saw Hongjoong walking towards them, his usual confident stride carrying him across the sand. Wooyoung's expression was hard to read, but the pleading look in his eyes as he glanced at his captain was unmistakable.

"Of all times," Wooyoung muttered under his breath, barely audible over the sound of the waves.

Hongjoong stopped a few steps away, his gaze flicking between the two of you. He was holding something in his hand, a clipboard with papers clipped to it. "I hate to break up the moment, but we need you back at the camp, Wooyoung. Something’s come up."

Wooyoung bit back a groan, running a hand through his hair. He looked at you, the apology clear on his face. "Can you give me just a few minutes, Captain? Please?"

Hongjoong hesitated, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if assessing the situation. Then, with a small sigh, he nodded. "Make it quick. The others are waiting." With that, he turned and headed back toward the path leading to camp, leaving the two of you alone again—for now.

Your soft giggle broke the tension lingering in the air, and Wooyoung couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh of his own, his nerves easing just slightly. The way you looked at him—eyes sparkling, lips curled in that effortless smile—sent his heart into overdrive.

"What's so funny?" he asked, tilting his head, though he already knew.

"You," you teased lightly, resting your chin in your hand as you turned fully toward him. "You looked like a kid caught sneaking snacks before dinner just now. You should’ve seen your face when Hongjoong showed up."

Wooyoung groaned, dramatically covering his face with both hands. "Don’t remind me. Worst timing ever. Why does he have this sixth sense for ruining moments?"

"Ruining moments?" you repeated, your grin widening as you leaned closer. "What kind of moment were you trying to have, Wooyoung?"

His hands dropped from his face, and he met your gaze, his cheeks flushing a soft pink under the warm glow of the setting sun. There it was—the perfect opening, and his window of courage was closing fast.

"A moment like this," he said quietly, his voice softer now, almost shy. He hesitated for a beat, searching your expression for any sign of hesitation. But all he saw was you—patient, curious, and so breathtakingly close.

His heart pounding, Wooyoung took a shaky breath. "Yn, I’ve been holding this in for way too long, and if I don’t say it now, I might explode." He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I... I like you. Like, really like you. More than just a friend, more than anything, really."

Wooyoung's heart plummeted as he watched your reaction. The shock in your eyes, the way you looked away from him—it felt like the ground beneath his feet had crumbled. When you stood, tears streaming down your cheeks, he panicked, rushing to block your path.

"Yn," he said, his voice trembling, "please, don't cry. Talk to me—tell me what's wrong."

You shook your head, biting your trembling lip as more tears fell. "We can’t, Woo," you whispered, your voice breaking.

"Can’t?" Wooyoung repeated, his voice thick with emotion, his heart twisting painfully as he searched your tear-streaked face for answers.

You took a shaky step back, your lips parting as if to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

"Is this because you're a mermaid?" Wooyoung blurted out, his voice trembling with desperation. "Yn, I don't care that you are! We can always make it work—"

"Wooyoung! Now!" Hongjoong's sharp voice cut through the moment, the urgency in his tone snapping Wooyoung out of his frantic spiral.

Wooyoung turned his head, gritting his teeth in frustration as he saw Hongjoong waving at him from the camp path. He clenched his fists, the interruption a painful reminder of the reality closing in on them.

Looking at you, Wooyoung saw your shoulders trembling, your arms hugging yourself tightly, as if trying to shield yourself from the storm within. His heart ached at the sight. "Yn," he called softly, his voice cracking with emotion as he took a hesitant step forward. "Please... don’t do this. Talk to me."

But you shook your head, fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. Without another word, you turned and took a step toward the ocean, your bare feet meeting the wet sand where the waves kissed the shore.

"Yn!" Wooyoung’s voice was louder now, filled with panic as he watched you. He moved to follow, but stopped when you turned back to him one last time, your expression a mix of sorrow and regret.

"I’m sorry, Woo," you whispered, your voice carried away by the breeze. And then, before he could say anything more, you stepped into the water, the waves lapping at your ankles, then your knees. With a graceful dive, you disappeared beneath the surface, leaving only ripples behind.

Wooyoung froze, his breath caught in his throat. He stared at the ocean, the spot where you had vanished, his mind racing. He took a step forward, his hand reaching out instinctively, but the water gave no sign of you returning.

"Yn..." he whispered, the name a fragile prayer on his lips as he stood there, the salty breeze stinging his face. The ocean before him felt endless, a vast reminder of how far away you suddenly seemed, even though he had been so close moments ago.

[thebiggerbear]

This was my first Twilight character x reader story on here that I read and I cannot begin to tell you how pleased I am that I started with Emmett and with this work!!! This was beautifully written while also giving me all the angst and heartbreak and yearning feels experienced by Y/N. So well done!!!

The woods surrounding Forks were darker than you remembered. The dense canopy of evergreens blocked out most of the moonlight, leaving only thin beams to guide your path. Your breath came out in short bursts as you weaved through the trees, the familiar chill of the air biting at your skin. You knew this place like the back of your hand, and yet tonight, it felt different. Like the shadows themselves were warning you to turn back.

Love the description here. It immediately brought me right back to Forks and immersed me into the Twilight world. Very nicely done!!!

You’d told yourself a thousand times that you wouldn’t come back—that this part of your life was over. But staying away had proven impossible, and no matter how hard you tried to move on, something kept pulling you back to Forks. Back to him.

Oh my goodness, did I just let out a loud squeal? You're darn right I did!

The moment you stepped into the clearing, your heart stopped. He was there, standing as still as a statue, his broad shoulders tense and his dark eyes locked onto you. Emmett Cullen. The vampire who had stolen your heart—and then shattered it.

This is such a heart-stopping moment, though, to borrow your phrase. Seeing him in the moonlight, his eyes locked onto you, noting he's a vampire... You painted the picture so perfectly!

He let out a rough breath, his hands running through his dark curls, and for the first time, he looked vulnerable. Like the weight of everything he’d been carrying was finally too much. When his gaze finally met yours, there was no mistaking the anguish there. “I left,” he said, his voice quieter now, thick with emotion, “because I couldn’t control it anymore.” You frowned, confusion clouding your thoughts. “Control what?” Emmett’s expression darkened, and his fists clenched again. “The thirst,” he growled, like the word itself was painful. “Being around you… it was getting harder. You don’t know what it’s like, having to fight it every second. The scent of your blood—it’s overwhelming. And I couldn’t risk it anymore. I couldn’t risk you.”

I really do feel this is the conversation Edward should have also had with Bella in the books, too. At least Emmett is telling her and being honest with her here. And knowing Emmett's body count history, it's more than understandable why he left. He just straight up says it and I love it.

“You could’ve told me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “We could’ve figured it out together.” Emmett shook his head, his eyes filled with a sadness that seemed to age him by centuries. “No, we couldn’t. I’m a danger to you, and you don’t even realize it. Every day that I spent with you, I was fighting my nature. One slip, one mistake, and you’d be gone. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

Normally, I'd be frustrated with her like I get with Bella in New Moon (the whole saga quite frankly) whenever it comes to this harsh truth of a topic in a relationship between vampire and human in that world, but I can understand the reader's point here. And I appreciate that Emmett shuts it down, as much as it costs him to do so. (I also LOVE how you've taken Emmett's backstory and applied it here brilliantly btw!!!)

After what felt like an eternity, you stepped closer, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You just looked up at him, your heart heavy. “I came back because I couldn’t let go of you,” you said softly. “But maybe… maybe it’s time I do.” Emmett’s eyes snapped open, wide with shock and pain, but he didn’t stop you as you turned away, your heart breaking with every step. He had left to protect you, but in the end, the danger wasn’t just in his nature. It was in the love that had consumed you both, the love that had torn you apart. And as you disappeared into the shadows of the forest, you realized that sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, you have to let them go.

Thank YOU. As much as this hurt and I hate to see Emmett in pain (he will always be one of my fave Cullens!), I am so glad to see a realistic reaction to the depth of the love between a human and a vampire in this world alongside to the danger the vampire actually represents. Don't get me wrong, I love the Cullens but it always bothered me that Bella refused to at least acknowledge that fact and fully process it no matter what anyone said to her, including Edward. Not until her own transformation anyway and other people like Charlie were at risk from her. So I am very glad to see this displayed here. And your writing is impeccable so like I said above, I am so glad I entered the Twilight x Reader reading territory with you as a guide to light my way and I started with one of your works!!! So well done!!! 😊💖💖

Letting You Go (Emmett Cullen)

Summary: You wanted to see Emmett again, but you realise it was a lost cause.

WC: 1kish

Warnings: Angst

Read on Ao3!

--

The woods surrounding Forks were darker than you remembered. The dense canopy of evergreens blocked out most of the moonlight, leaving only thin beams to guide your path. Your breath came out in short bursts as you weaved through the trees, the familiar chill of the air biting at your skin. You knew this place like the back of your hand, and yet tonight, it felt different. Like the shadows themselves were warning you to turn back.

But you couldn’t. Not when you had come this far.

You’d told yourself a thousand times that you wouldn’t come back—that this part of your life was over. But staying away had proven impossible, and no matter how hard you tried to move on, something kept pulling you back to Forks. Back to him.

The moment you stepped into the clearing, your heart stopped. He was there, standing as still as a statue, his broad shoulders tense and his dark eyes locked onto you. Emmett Cullen. The vampire who had stolen your heart—and then shattered it.

“You really shouldn’t come back here, you know.” His voice was low, rough around the edges, a far cry from the easy-going tone you used to love. “It’s not safe.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep walking toward him even though every instinct screamed for you to run. “I know,” you said softly, your voice barely carrying through the cold air. “But I had to see you.”

Emmett didn’t move. He stood there, his jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists at his sides. The distance between you felt like a canyon, even though it was only a few feet. He looked the same as he always did—strong, imposing, impossibly beautiful—but there was a hardness in his eyes now, a darkness that hadn’t been there before.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” he repeated, his voice sharper this time. “You’re putting yourself in danger.”

You took another step closer, ignoring the warning in his tone. “Why, Emmett? Why did you leave like that?” Your words cracked under the weight of the question you’d been carrying for so long. “I need to understand.”

For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in his expression—regret, maybe, or pain—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a cold detachment that made your heart ache.

“There’s nothing to understand,” he said flatly, his eyes hard. “I left because it was the only way to keep you safe.”

Safe. The word felt like a dagger in your chest. Safe from what? From him? The thought made you sick.

“You think leaving me out of nowhere was going to protect me?” you demanded, your voice rising with emotion. “You didn’t even say goodbye, Emmett. You just—vanished. I didn’t know if you were dead, or hurt, or if I’d done something wrong—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong!” he interrupted, his voice thunderous as it cut through the air, echoing in the clearing. His eyes flashed with something raw, something that broke through the icy exterior he’d been trying so hard to maintain. “This wasn’t about you.”

“Then what was it about?” you whispered, taking another step forward, desperate to close the distance between you. “Tell me, Emmett. Because I can’t move on without knowing why you left me.”

He let out a rough breath, his hands running through his dark curls, and for the first time, he looked vulnerable. Like the weight of everything he’d been carrying was finally too much. When his gaze finally met yours, there was no mistaking the anguish there.

“I left,” he said, his voice quieter now, thick with emotion, “because I couldn’t control it anymore.”

You frowned, confusion clouding your thoughts. “Control what?”

Emmett’s expression darkened, and his fists clenched again. “The thirst,” he growled, like the word itself was painful. “Being around you… it was getting harder. You don’t know what it’s like, having to fight it every second. The scent of your blood—it’s overwhelming. And I couldn’t risk it anymore. I couldn’t risk you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The realization hit you like a freight train. He had left because he was afraid of hurting you. But that didn’t stop the pain from gnawing at your heart.

“You could’ve told me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “We could’ve figured it out together.”

Emmett shook his head, his eyes filled with a sadness that seemed to age him by centuries. “No, we couldn’t. I’m a danger to you, and you don’t even realize it. Every day that I spent with you, I was fighting my nature. One slip, one mistake, and you’d be gone. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

Your heart shattered at his words. The depth of his fear, his self-loathing, was laid bare before you, but it didn’t change the fact that he had left you in the dark. That he had ripped your heart out without a second thought.

“You leaving already hurt me, Emmett,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “It hurt more than anything you could’ve done. You thought you were protecting me, but you broke me instead.”

He flinched, and for the first time, you saw him break too. His shoulders sagged, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. The man you loved was standing right in front of you, but it felt like there was a wall between you, one that couldn’t be torn down by apologies or explanations.

After what felt like an eternity, you stepped closer, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You just looked up at him, your heart heavy.

“I came back because I couldn’t let go of you,” you said softly. “But maybe… maybe it’s time I do.”

Emmett’s eyes snapped open, wide with shock and pain, but he didn’t stop you as you turned away, your heart breaking with every step.

He had left to protect you, but in the end, the danger wasn’t just in his nature. It was in the love that had consumed you both, the love that had torn you apart.

And as you disappeared into the shadows of the forest, you realized that sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, you have to let them go.

[reblog-house]

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial Wc: 853 Fandom: Arcane Characters: Ekko and Powder / Jinx (both) Ao3: Here! Two different universes, both grappling with the implications of Ekko's trip across dimension. At least Ekko is there to reassure her. Any version of her.

Maybe In a Different World

“Sometimes, I wonder what could’ve been.”

Ekko turned to face her. 

Her eyebrows were knitted, eyes zoned into a point in space worlds away. It was reminiscent of those moments she knelt in front of Vi’s altar, of the moments when she needed her company most. But for some reason, he didn’t believe that to be what was plaguing her. Not entirely.

He shifted in his seat at the ledge in order to face her fully.

“What do you mean?” he asked gently. She’d been acting strangely after he… ‘came back’ to himself. He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened, but looking at ‘his’ notes, it painted a strange picture. One he was still trying to piece together.

Powder looked like she knew more than she let on, but he wouldn’t push her. That’s how you got her to pull back into herself. 

She swallowed, eyes glinting with the lights of the streets below them. 

“I feel like this… this isn’t the only way this could’ve turned out.”

Ekko cocked an eyebrow. She was speaking in riddles again, but he was used to pulling back the layers. And if ‘his’ notes were to be trusted, her words painted a clearer picture.

“What do you mean?” He sat back. “Humor me.”

She swirled her head from one side to the other with a sigh. “It’s just-” She swung her arms in the air, like trying to grasp at words right out of reach. “Do you not feel that sometimes?” She looked at him. “That of all the possible timelines we could’ve ended up in, somehow, this is where we ended up? That just one small action could’ve changed… everything?” The last word came out as an exhale.

She slumped.

“For the better or for the worse,” she continued. “I don’t know. Haven’t decided yet.” She breathed in. “And… in those worlds, what if we’re different?”

Ekko hummed and furrowed his eyebrows as he inspected Powder’s eyes. She was looking down at the city again, a thoughtful expression on her face.

He scuttled closer until their legs touched together and he nudged her with his shoulder.

“Well, if you asked me, there’s no version of Powder that isn’t cool.”

“Of course you’d say that.” She rolled her eyes and gently pushed him back with humor back on her face. Just what he was hoping for.

Mood lighter now, he exhaled through his nose. He was not going to leave Powder with a non-answer.

“I think I get what you mean.”

She looked up with a curious sparkle in her eyes.

Feeling the attention on himself, Ekko swallowed. “I don’t know what happened since I…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what happened, but I think I know where you’re getting at. It all seems so outlandish, but…”

“But you were gone,” Powder finished the sentence. “You were gone, weren’t you? And you know it.”

With an awkward smile, he rubbed the back of his neck. “It was so hard to believe something like that could happen, but the more you speak and the more I read, it seems like the only option available.”

Relief bursted out of Powder in a second with his words. She laughed. It shook her whole body, eyes closed. And then it morphed. It came out breathless, shattered, quicker. 

He reached a hand out towards her. “Powder…”

“So it’s all real, huh?”

He stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“There really is another version of us. I wasn’t- I wasn’t making shit up. It was you, but not you, who I met. And Vi-” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Vi is alive, out there in some world, and I’m. I’m out there doing my own experiments and whatever it is other Ekko was telling me about. It was all real. I knew it was all real.”

The air hung heavy with the confirmation. Powder slumped against Ekko and he rested his head atop hers. 

————

“So, there is a better version of me? One that isn’t… plagued by everything?”

“It was all so situational. Everything.” Ekko dropped to the ground. “Just one event changed and everything was different. Including you. Including me. Silco-”

“And my sister had to die for it.”

He closed his mouth and looked down at the floor.

The beeping of her bomb still kept a rhythm long after the song she was playing died out. Her grip on the machine was gentler now, only one hand holding it. Ekko wouldn’t let his guard down until she put it down.

“It’s not worth it.” 

Ekko jumped for his Z-drive, ready to turn back the dial, but Jinx simply stared at her device with conflict in her eyes. Shaking her head once, she deactivated the bomb and let it go. It clanged as it made contact with the ground and then rolled over, deeper further from the abyss.

“A world where my sister is gone… it’s not worth it.”

“Jinx-”

“I won’t let it get to that.”

His grasp on the Z-drive softened.

“So, boy savior.” 

She turned around, steely determination in her eyes.

“What’s that plan you’re proposing?”

[eseongsubs]

PDA | Lee Heeseung

word count: 1,078

format: drabble

a/n: I gave into those ugly fanfiction tumblr headers you guys…i’m so sorry to be assaulting your eyes with this basicness. I will be learning how to make headers for my series’ and plotted stories so you don’t have to stare at these nuisances. Anyway, I decided to start writing when I had an idea rather than when I want because I have the goal of being a more productive writer. I didn’t even want to write this, but I forced myself to because I know that sub!idol tumbler is sorrowfully dry, so. Enjoy. If you’ve got any requests or thirsts i will answer them. Like i said. I’m “Inspired.”

note: reader’s gender is not stated, implicitly or explicitly.

warnings: explicit cumshot, public blowjob…, sub!heeseung, dom!reader, uhmm thats it honestly.

Heeseung is not a “bad boy” by any means. Specifically, blowjobs in public have never been Lee's forte. He paints his nails black, sometimes, and he likes to wear a dark graphic tee with a silver chain every now and then, but, thats because it looks cool. And you always teased him for his sense of grandeur. No, Heeseung was a thoughtful man with a particular kindness and generosity that one can only learn. He doesn't have the guts, really, to be a “bad boy,” do the things "bad boys" do, only the foresight to be a well behaved one. He likes rewards, he likes praise, and he enjoys positive reinforcement. Negative talk makes him respond negatively, like a sorrowful golden pothos house plant. He needs sweet talk to keep him green and flourishing.

With that being said, today was an interesting mix of occurences that lead to your contemporary circumstances. 

You like the way that Heeseung’s long dancer legs tremble under your palms as you steady him, keeping him afloat amid the rolling waves of pleasure threatening him to collapse to the tiled restroom floor. His black skinny jeans slide down toward mid thigh, in a way that forces Hee to rear his butt off the bathroom wall, his dick in your awaiting mouth. It wasn’t tireless work, but rather a spur-of-the-moment decision you made out of your own curious lust. An inquisitive test to see just how much your boyfriend would let you get away with. 

“Ooh…” A curling pout expresses your heeseung’s pleasure across his face, as wobbly in stature as his thighs are, trying to hold his composure steady for you, not alert any outside passersby as to what was occurring inside this little single-person family bathroom. “Feels…feels really good” Heeseung concedes, his pink nose from the cold winter temperatures sniveling, his beanie slipping off toward the left direction of his head – your right – revealing the fluffy and mussed black shimmer of his hair. His praise is unprompted, so you smile, pulling off of his shaft and stroking it with an entire glove-clad palm. Hee’s hips twitch upward. 

“Why thank you, sweetheart. That’s so nice.” The ennuncuiation of your last two words was devastatingly intentional. Heeseung’s whole body shudders. He loves to feel like a sweet man for you. The praise sinks in deep to his skin, like a needle. You lave your tongue over his tip again, not taking him fully into your mouth this time just to watch him squirm, build up the peak in his balls already beginning to squeeze to completion. 

Like you said, Heeseung wasn’t one for public…service. He was too respectful, and a bit too believing in the rhetoric of “obedience in advance.” Conform to the wants of others, or any institution, and you will escape punishment, if you’re good enough. Unfortunately, that logic wasn’t real. Not with you, when you punish Heeseung for your own enjoyment, twisting his actions and behaviours into an excuse to watch him squirm under your cruelty, and not with the law either. But today, your boyfriend had been a bit too caught up in your lips, and pathetically eager to please. He followed your word like Mogli under the trance of that snake, in Jungle Book. Yes master, no master, I’ll do anything you say, master. Quite the perfect storm. 

“Oh– ngh…Oh! N-no, no…” you ignored Heeseung’s mutterings to himself. His head, shifting back-and-forth, pushing his hat further off of his head. His obedient heads, attempting with fail to grip onto the tile walls, squeezing into defeated fists. Your lips wrap about his tip, finally, sucking with little force, before sliding down his cock further and driving gratified whimpers from your Hee’s mouth. Whimpers that interrupt the low mewls he has already been unable to cage away. You push-and-pull your tongue on the underside of his cock with each stroke. One of Heeseung’s hands tug at the fingers of your right arm, interlacing yours with his as a surprised moan slips from you, replaced with a satisfied hum. Not a “bad boy” bone in his polite body. 

Another surprise sneaks up on you as Heeseung whispers, trying his absolute best not to shout. “I’m cumming!” Hee weeps, grabbing your hair with his second unoccupied hand as his pleasure converges into a delightful sight, yanking you off of his dick. First, his stomach tenses, then his balls, then the abused tip of his cock throbs as he releases string after string across the bathroom floor, your hair, cheeks, nose, and lips. Some even lands on your eyelashes, as his grippable hips surge forward in a euphoric blaze. Heeseung’s eyes don’t squeeze shut all the way, just into pretty little crescents, so he can watch with effort as he showers you in his release. You, on your knees, before him. “Oh god, I’m cumming…” he pules weakly again, his final droplets of spunk dripping from his defiled tip. You grin again. 

“Couldn’t wait?” you inquire, Heeseung’s head fallen completely forward as his muscles spasm, still swimming in pleasure and the aftermath of it. His beanie makes the quietest, softest plat as it hits the ground, like a sewing needle hitting the floor makes a soft clang. 

“I’m so sorry” Heeseung’s hand holding yours shakes in your embrace, his other hand relenting its hold on your hair. “I didn’t…I didn’t want to cum in your mouth without permission.”

You ignore, of course, that he could have subsided from cumming at all without permission. But, Heeseung didn’t like to cum in public, so, you decided it could be his reward. 

“Don’t be sorry, baby. You did a really good job.” Your lips meet Hee’s knee with a smooch, patting your mark with a frsiky grin. “Now lets get me cleaned up.” 

[colourstreakgryffin]

Sukuna × Venom!reader

Ooh… interesting indeed! We’d make quite the cool Cursed Spirit so let’s try this out! I can imagine Sukuna would enjoy a Venom! minion quite a lot

Sukuna Ryomen- Goopy Parasite

Venom

Venom’s the name of one of the most vile brutal difficult Cursed Spirits known to sorcery-kind. Even Gojo Satoru himself struggles with handling this being, it’s goopy, it’s acidic and it won’t tolerate physical contact and just regenerates instantaneously… it simply won’t let sorcerers exorcise it… so, it’s a infuriating headache to all races, except it’s fellow cursed spirits

Especially to the King of Curses, Sukuna Ryomen himself. He had been dormant for hundreds to thousands of years so he had never been able to catch up with what his own slaves have been doing to the lowly race called humans. When he was finally freed by a simple fifteen year old boy, Sukuna had been granted a new opportunity to dominant the world as he desired eras ago

Sukuna could hear and see everything the boy did, some of it was enough to boil his blood, some of it made him dose of. The rare 5% that piped his interest changed the tortuous hours being trapped in the mind of some beefhead wroth it. Sukuna hears about you. The Venom, one of the most complicated cursed spirits for the sorcery clan to face off

And he immediately perks up in wonder and curiosity over this cursed spirit. He’s never heard of such entity, he’s never heard of the idea of a measly cursed spirit taking his mantle as unbeatable and difficult to face down. Sukuna wishes to know of this cursed spirit and see what he can do with it

Dispose of or create his minion… he’s looking forward to making that decision

Luckily for Sukuna after learning about this valuable information he keeps floating shallowly in his regal mind for a while, the boring mission Yuji was sent onto with his little friends, got significantly more intriguing when he sees through the teen’s eyes that what he wanted most has come to him on a silver platter

You. You’ve arrived at his feet! The Venom itself, in all your goopy mighty tall pitch black glory. Stretchable big jaw dropping further… you’re one of the top Special Grade cursed spirits. That fact makes Yuji and his little posse terrified, Sukuna can just sense those pathetic feelings and it amuses him greatly

Sukuna’s plan is getting closer and closer to him every second he watches this movie of a real life situation played before him on basically a big screen from his threatening sharp bone throne, dark blood red eyes following every movement you make

All of them heavy and brutish, almost caveman-like, as you don’t express much mercy. In-fact, you’re already throwing around Yuji’s little friends like they are mere toys to you since in your mind, they are trespassing on your territory and your territory is this entire planet

Sukuna smirks amused, he hasn’t seen such a good feeding session in years on end now. You’re beautiful and he has decided whilst watching how simply overwhelming you are as an opponent to the fellow despised sorcerers. He shouldn’t waste time and energy killing a creature this useful, he can just make you serve him as your King

Sukuna can only really watch from the sidelines through Yuji’s eyes as the fight rages on rather violently, in the most delicious way. Yet, this fun doesn’t last forever since it’s almost like fate and the cosmos above wants you to make contact with him, since you already strike with your durable sharp claws at Yuji when basically throwing both his little friends into the ground as if they are bugs to be squashed. The perfect moment for him

The mere moment you swipe at Yuji’s face to try blind him, Sukuna triggers his power to transport anybody he desires into his body in that second or two… mainly being cursed spirits, and through a speedy tunnel of flashing lights. You go from trying to paint the walls with Yuji’s bodily fluids to being stood before the King of the Curses

A King that looks thrilled to see his target stationed and defenceless before his towering throne made of the calcium of his past victims, though continues to contain his emotions openly and expresses a more neutrally sadistic charm. His red locked on the tall muscular black parasite before him

Sukuna doesn’t wait for you to speak, he speaks up loud and proud with the expectation that you’ll listen to your King as you should. He knows you, based on the attitude he just studied previously, don’t do things such as reason and basic thinking. You fight and win recklessly, you don’t plan as you don’t need it at all. You can maim all your victims by merely smashing them into surfaces until they turn to red mist

“You’re the special little animal I’ve been hearing so much about~”

Sukuna can see the way you look visibly stunned in either amazement or fear. Whatever you feel, it doesn’t concern him. He’s concerned about convincing you to join his side and serve him as he demands and he can pay you handsomely for doing so. He doesn’t worry about the potential chance he’ll lose you, he won’t

You yourself silently listens when standing upright from being in the middle of your vicious attacking position, rolling up and looking with big sharp white eyes at the King of Curses as he speaks both calmly and condescendingly. To you… it seems this King thinks of you as a dumb animal

And Sukuna does. He does think of you as a mere dumb animal, like some gorilla of raw strength but whilst that is… suitable. He prefers your much more terrestrial capabilities, the ones that form you into a beast nobody can truly land a hand on. He wants that as his own, to be under his thumb loyally

“Now. Listen to me, my lovely little black widow. I want you to work with me, be my right-hand little curse and you’ll get a rich future in favour of helping me dispose of this brat and his brats~”

Sukuna doesn’t pull any punches or just pull out bullshit. He straight up tells you his desires and arrogantly believes you’ll obey him, since he has far too much to offer back. Only a real fool would say no to this King and he doesn’t believe you have that little of brain. His quiet yet calm judgement is burning through you like a fire as he waits surprisingly patient for your response

Sukuna was genuinely surprised that you could speak fluently and it made him more interested but nevertheless, he doesn’t comment the thoughts that cross his conscious as you pipe up with your gravelly very monstrous voice. That he owns you his side of the offer, that’s all you say. However… he knows what you mean

You’ve accepted his offer, you just want to make sure he isn’t lying to exploit you. Sukuna wants to exploit you but he also isn’t that cheap of a sly bastard, he’s more exquisite than that. He’ll pay you back and if you’re still of worth by the time, he’ll decide if he is to keep you alive or not. You may be mighty but you’re a ant, compared to him

Sukuna nods pleased as he speaks as pleased, expressing his pleasure at your positive response and he does, once again, rather pet-ify you by speaking like you’re just his obedient little dog. He’d have pet your head and coo if he was any closer, but he also decides you’re not deserving of his love bombing

You need to do more work for him, take care of those brats from the outside and help him gain his own corporeal form. Until then, he’ll give you all the love you could desire

“Good little one… I knew I could rely on you~”

Sukuna praises proudly and content but yet his seductive sleek voice has no true meaning in it, he doesn’t view you as anything but just a simple useful tool but he also knows he cannot use you as a tool. You’ll fight back against him and he can’t afford that, he needs servants to devote themselves to him and his resurrection

Never once moving from his comfortable position upon his throne, he already had fulfilled his duty with you and doesn’t need you in his domain anymore but he won’t let you leave without reminding you that you cannot fail him. He will find you if you dare, behave and you’ll get as many sorcerer to kill and eat as you want

Waving his hand to you as a ‘fair well, my new friend’. You respond with a simple surprisingly cute noise of interest and acknowledgment. You usually don’t like to work with others but then again… you are before a cursed spirit far above you and if you just give him what you want, you’ll get more victims to put your hands on!

Before you’re sent off, back to existence, by Sukuna’s will. He gives off another little comment to drill into your head firmly you’ve basically made the deal with the devil but he honestly couldn’t sound and look more bored. Not really because he is bored by you, but because he’s gonna be bored having to watch the best and his posse part from you like cowards

He’s always looking forward to seeing you again

“Don’t fail me, my little black widow ~ I’m watching you. Make me proud and you’ll get Gojo Satoru’s head to devour”

[kawareo]

Personal vent

I have to present my portfolio and an artist statement tomorrow and all i've done in the last however many years is fanart and fantasy. It's not bad art and I like it but everyone in my school is into classic stuff and theyre really good at it. Presentations so far have been wonderful and everyone is so talented but I'm here about to explode because I like to ignore the fact that I am so very incapable of expressing myself in any artistic way. Never could understand how people just. Paint their emotions, or feelings. I project them onto characters and amplify them until theyre unrecognizable as me

Im not worried about the grade because i know i can bullshit this into sounding profound but I hate knowing that I just dont know how to express myself or what even is there to express. Like actually incapable. Im supposed to be a creative person but anything non-fantasy is impossible for me and I loathe the idea of going there and admitting that in front of the whole class

We also have to finish with an 'artist statement' which has to be in 3rd person and it makes me want to die I hate talking about myself. Things i like? Things I think? Things I feel, even? All that works, but when it comes to the core of me I am hollow

[plusvanity]

In one of your ask answers from September you wrote: ''I am a bit reluctant to say what I really think of Faust''. I skimmed over other answers as well but you never really spoke on this matter or about him (concerning this) again. Perhaps it's going to be an empty ask because you're still not comfortable elaboring your views on this - which I accept naturally - but I'm just way too curious to not shoot my shot: what do you REALLY think about Faust?

I personally do not have much going on opinion wise when it comes to him, he seems loyal to Øystein's memory (visiting his grave often, speaking highly of him always, keeping his legacy alive and over all being full of admiration for him, which is understandable since Ø could count as his role model, in a way) which is nice considering how people from the BM scene try to paint Ø, stuffing their mouths with his name just for views and/or turning their backs on him after his death ; but I am also aware of the crime he commited and as far as I recall, he never really spoke about it? Which is also why many people despise him (which is normal, absolutely not trying to imply that 'talking about it' would solve the problem!) the double amount, for example you can see it here: https://www.reddit.com/r/rabm/comments/mz7s97/the_lgbt_heavy_metal_podcast_24_emperor/. Anyway, I'm more interested right now if your opinion, if you'd like to share. Thanks!

There are many reasons why I'm reticent in saying what I truly believe about Faust, but I will try to express it in the gentlest way possible. My opinion is not something colossal as there isn't much information available on the subject, but it's definitely a radical one.

I see lately that more and more people have a tendency to make opinions about certain problematic black metal individuals that are 'Øystein approved or disapproved'. In this case, I can easily include Faust. I see people willing to downplay the gruesome and intentional murder that he committed for the simple fact that he was one of Øystein's loyal 'students', so to speak. So, my question for those is:

Does the simple fact that Faust spoke honorably about his mentor make him less of a bad person for taking the life of a man? The most rational answer is no.

I see many people believing blindly that Faust is truly remorseful and that he learned his lesson in prison, and my question about this is: How can you be so sure? Just because he is out now, talking about how he messed up because he was a kid and how much he changed since then doesn't mean that he means his words. Anyone can say anything. You don't know if it's real unless you know that person personally, and even so, he went to prison for first degree murder. I don't think it's far-fetched to doubt his words. Once you're some kind of celebrity, you need to keep your PR good. And if you don't think that everything in this world is business, then you don't really know how the world works, and I apologize for sounding rude.

No one can prove or disprove that his mentality (not action) changed.

It is very expectantly for him to try to clean his image and redirect the attention to other subjects like talking positively about Øystein. I don't say he is not respectful and he doesn't carry on Øystein's legacy, but I'm saying that it's wise to be aware who says what and what might be the reason behind it. There are other people that I'm more inclined to believe their feelings towards Øystein and loyalty are more authentic, like Mortiis for example. This is just my opinion, I encourage everyone to think for themselves.

Maybe I'm too harsh on him and I don't give him many chances, but he is a criminal after all, and I don't minimize this aspect. He didn't kill in self defense, he talked in interviews about 'stomping' on the victim's head, and this is cruelty. Do people think this cruelty somehow goes away over time? It never does. You're either born with it or you learned it. That's not PlusVanity being bitter about what can be changed in people. That's a well-known psychological fact. He is in the ASPD spectrum towards the high end, that's no speculation.

The time spent in prison is the equivalent of a joke because of the Norwegian system. You're basically living like in a hotel there, painting and doing crafts, playing basketball with the guards, living a long vacation. There is little to nothing that a troubled individual can learn and self-reflect in such conditions. I'm not saying that more violent habits are the answer for behavioral change as I strongly believe that violence is primitive and unnecessary, but the only way in which someone can get an insight on themselves is by feeling the equivalent consequences of what they've done.

People question if he killed a man because his victim was homosexual or he if simply killed just to feel how it is like. Both options make Faust just as much of an asshole because he took somebody's life intentionally. When asked about his opinion on homosexuals, he answered: 'Basically I don't care about them (as long as they keep it to their own people), but... what can I say... they are nice to put knives into..' In another interview he describes luring that man to the spot in which he committed the crime. There's always the element of shock-value in the black metal scene, but I tend to believe his words back then were a bit more genuine than what he insists on now because, to be fair, who wouldn't want to clean his image after something like this? Especially because he is still relevant in the scene.

Of course that his peers accepted right back like 'hey, bro! nice to see you again' and many people forgot his dark past because he's famous (to a certain degree). Is he a perfectly good guy now just because he says he is? When talking about antisocial behavior, somebody who did this can always do it again. They have it in them.

To sum it up, from a moral perspective, I don't like Faust and I'm not easily impressed by his post-prison statements because of the gravity of his act. Should he be forgiven or cancelled is not something I will comment about. There is no way to verify what's in his head and talking more about it is simply rambling.

From a musical perspective, he's a good drummer.

That's all I can say.

[nymerias-heart]

Margaery Tyrell

"You wrong me, daughter. All I want—"

"—is your son, all for yourself. He will never have a wife that you don't hate. And I am not your daughter, thank the gods. Leave me."

Inspired by this painting from @fandom-trash-goblin post.