#I want to be loved in such a way that responsibility can be a shared burden rather than one I must lift entirely off their shoulders

[rodolfoparras]

18+ MDNI 18+

Thinking about playfully wrestling with your boyfriend while he makes mindless comments about your strength “oh you’re so strong, don’t think I’d be able to escape even if I wanted,” he says in wonder, eyes practically shining as he squeezes your biceps, “you ought to be careful never know when I can break” he says jokingly while doing a half hearted attempt to try and escape your embrace.

Slowly but surely you start getting more and more rough with him: squeezing and pressing down onto spots, not enough to hurt but enough to make him uncomfortable. “You know what? You’re right. I don’t think you’d be able to get away if someone like me were to attack you.” The relaxed look on his face swiftly turns into one of concern and you can see the way he slowly attempts to back away from you.

But it’s to no avail, he’s trapped in your embrace, with you steadily inching closer to his face, a big sharp grin painted on your own face. “I mean what are you supposed to do? Can’t even push them away,” you say referring to his futile attempts at trying to push you away from him. “Guess you’d just have to stay and take whatever they’re willing to give you,” you continue, proving your point when you easily spread his legs wide and ground your cock up against his ass, all while he can’t do anything but helplessly watch as you twist and turn his body as if he were a ragdoll “Bet there’s plenty of things they would love to do to a pretty boy like you. Don’t you think?”

“Oh god- don’t -dont say that,” he gasps out, head falling into the crook of your neck as if he’s horrified. But you can feel his fully hard cock from where your hand is resting against his thighs , can hear the muffled whines and whimpers as he grinds himself up against you, can see it on him how he he’s torn between pushing you away and completely stopping this little game or pulling you closer to him to see how far you’ll take this.

What a sick little thing you got at your hands.

“How about this?” You say, hand yanking ahold of his hair to bring his ear closer to you “You try to run and we’ll see if I can catch you. Does that sound alright?”

This time you don’t get a verbal response. Instead you can see it on his face what he’s trying to say: and what happens if you catch me?

The silence is swiftly broken with a soft thud as you release your hold on him.”Run, quick,”

He doesn’t waste a second scrambling up the stairs, practically tripping over his feet as he turns corners. He looks and sounds absolute terrified and you can’t help but love that, cock growing harder as you follow him up.

With each step you take you can hear his rapid breaths getting louder and louder , can feel his own thudding steps as you walk down the narrow hallway, can practically smell him - not some cheap cologne nor any deodorant but rather a mix of sickly sweet vanilla and sugar- something that’s just so him - something you’d want to sink your teeth in and drain completely. You follow that very scent all the way to your shared bedroom.

And there he stands, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, or rather like a animal that’s bleeding out on the side of the road, with his cock still painfully hard and with a suspicious dark spot on his sweatpants.

“Oh sweetheart,” you coo, voice dripping with faux concern, while slowly walking up to him like he was an injured animal of some sort. “Why do you look so scared hmm? You know I won’t actually hurt you,” you continue, watching in amusement as he swiftly backs up til his back is flushed with the bedroom wall.

You’re quick to press yourself flush against his chest, once again trapping him in your embrace.“Come on. You wound me. I really wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You know that,” You say eyes once again flicking up to the wet spot on his pants “Look, got yourself all worked up and for what?” You ask, as you cup the wet bulge over his pants.

“Stop - ah don’t” he cries out, sounding and looking absolutely horrified as he tries to push your hand away but once again it’s to no avail and he has to stand there as you freely grope him. However it doesn’t take much before he’s bucking up into your touch, head lolling back against the wall as whines and whimpers freely pour past his tongue “fuck- so good mph,”

“See sweetheart, I just want to take care of you, wouldn’t dream of hurting you,”you say with a soft smile as you continue to rub him through his pants. The man only furiously nods, begs and please of more more more, continuously rolling off of his tongue as he practically humps the palm of your hand.

“Unless you want me to, that is,” suddenly you’re flipping him around, hand rough as ever as you shove him up against the wall before slotting your leg between his thighs.

The poor thing squeaks in suprise, tears freely spilling from his eyes ,as incoherent words start pouring from his mouth.

“Come on now sweetheart,” you groan out , hand once again yanking at his hair and successfully pulling a hiss from him “you know that need you to use your words. Now tell em what you want yeah?”

Once again he’s fumbling over his words, too overwhelmed with emotions to form a coherent sentence. However you won’t take that for answer, hand once again yanking at his hair till he finally responds to you.

“Want- ah want you to touch me sir ah- please do anything touch me- hah fuck me - hurt me just anything please please-“

“Well who am I to say no when you ask so nicely?”

[cheshirewrites]

Luka gives the girl a thorough look over, noting her knotted hair, the dirt smudged on her cheeks, and the thread-bare state of her clothing. Holes in the knees of her trousers, patches on her elbows (clearly hand sewn, he knows that much), even the fabric of her bandana fraying at the seams.

She looks like an ordinary girl, one who has faced far too much peril during his father's rule.

"Are you certain?" Luka asks his guard for a second time, because he doesn't want to be wrong about this. Doesn't want to put the weight of the world on a little girl because of a false prophecy. "You're sure-"

"Yes, my prince," Fox says, grinning their sharp grin. "My love, my dear, you know I wasn't misinformed. The Misses aren't wrong about things like this."

And they're right, of course.

Ari and Dahlia were the best advisors a prince could ask for.

So when the two of them found a prophecy, claiming that a girl who shared his birthday would grow to hate the world, would try and burn it to the ground if she was left alone? Luka just wanted to find the girl and hold her close, apologize for everything he hadn't done and everything he hasn't changed yet. Prophecies are complicyed, after all, and Luka refuses to look at someone and only see the bad in them.

People deserve more than that from their prince, their king, their- whatever title Luka gained when Fox convinced a Dark Lord to overthrow the throne.

( After all, Fox is the best person Luka knows, and Gods know that Fox isn't innocent, no matter how sweetly they may smile. )

"Do you want some cake?" Luka says, and he knows how strange it must look. The prince and his guard, offering you cake in your own home, and on your birthday, at that. "I promise it isn't poisoned or anything, my aunties Dahlia and Ari made it, and both of them think poisoning is a cheap way to fight."

The girl stares up at him for a long, long moment, until something like amusement creeps onto her face. "Sure," she says, taking a few steps closer. "I've got some questions, though, and I want answers."

Luka grins at that. "Of course!" He says, almost shouting. "Can I ask you one, tiny thing first?" A nod. "What's your name? The Aunties told me a few things about you, like where to find you, but they left that out, and-"

The girl holds up a hand, and Luka falls silent. His grin turns sheepish. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Princey," she says, grinning. "The name's Cassandra, but most people just call me Cass. Now-" Cass leans forward, crossing her arms across her chest- "Tell me about these aunties of yours."

"They're actually the reason I'm here!" Luka says. "Ari and Dahlia -- yes, that Ari and Dahlia, the long dead Hero and Dark Lord, it's a long story -- told me I needed to find a girl who shared my birthday, and well," his voice trails off, "you might wanna sit down for this bit."

Cassandra -- her name is Cassandra! --gives him a questioning look, but sits down at her table anyway. "I'm seated, Princey," she says, nearly sounding reassuring. "What terrible news do you have to deliver? You look like you're gonna tell me the world is ending, for fuck's sake."

Luka looks at Fox pleadingly, but his partner only shrugs. Both of them know that this is Luka's responsibility, even if Ari would be the best at it. She is the one who found the prophecy, after all, and Fox has told him word for word what she said to them that day they first met.

Their exchange isn't subtle, though, and Cassandra's jaw drops. "You're kidding me," she says, her voice perfectly even. "The world isn't actually ending, right?"

"No!" Luka says, and this time, he does shout. "No, no, nothing like that. It's just-" He hesitates, trying to find the right words. Knows that there aren't any right words, not when it comes to prophecies and royalty and the like.

It's better to be straightforward, right? Luka thinks to himself, and then takes a deep breath. That's what Dahlia always says.

"How do you feel about prophecies?"

You are a poor girl selling flowers. Today is your birthday but no one knows. When you return home you find the prince of the kingdom waiting for you with a birthday cake. "Are you sure this is the one?" He whispers to his advisor.

[killiaia]

BEST FRIEND OR MORE

Yeji x male reader.

You pour yourself a drink and keep talking. The evening's not bad. The atmosphere's good, the food's good and the drinks are good.

You take a sip of your beer but are interrupted by a voice behind you. You turn and look at Yeji, your best friend.

"Pretend you're my boyfriend. Quickly! "says Yeji.

Almost mechanically, you put your arm around her waist and press her against you. Yeji gets the message and puts his hands around your neck. From a distance, you see the guy who's been bothering Yeji coming. You meet his gaze and instinctively kiss Yeji's forehead. The guy sees this and turns back.

"He's gone. "you say to Yeji.

But Yeji doesn't let go. You look down at her and Yeji looks up at you.

"What?"

"Can I stay with you? "Yeji asks.

In response, you press her against you and Yeji puts her head against your chest. She steals your glass and drinks from it. You don't mind, that's the way it's always been with Yeji. What's yours is hers and what's hers is yours.

The evening continues and you dance with Yeji. You're soon joined by your group of mutual friends, you dance with your friends and Yeji does the same. A little tipsy, Yeji walks over to you.

"Hey there. "Yeji says to you.

"Hey pretty girl. "You reply.

"Dance with me. "

"I have to get rid of boring guys and now dance with you? What do I get in return? "

Yeji doesn't answer you and grabs your hands to dance. You let go and go with her. You dance as if no one were watching. It's as if it's just the two of you. But suddenly the DJ changes the music to a slow dance. Everyone yells at the DJ, who just laughs.

Surprised, you grab Yeji and pull her against you. As before, Yeji puts her hands around your neck and presses her head against your chest. You let the music guide you.

"Do you love me? "Yeji suddenly says.

"You're drunk."

Yeji pouts.

"Because I love you. "

"Me too. "

You're sincere and Yeji looks up at you. Your eyes meet and you begin to move towards each other. Your lips are drawn together. You're separated by only a few centimeters. A little more and you'll be sharing a kiss. As the young woman closes her eyes, a voice interrupts.

"SHALL WE GO? "shouts one of your friends right next to you.

You let loose with Yeji and your friend who didn't see what was about to happen grabs Yeji leaving you alone in the middle of the dance floor.

"Come on Y/N, let's get something to eat outside! "

You join your group of friends outside and head off in the direction of a convenience store. You watch Yeji talk and walk with Ryujin in front. You're at the back of the group with your friends and after several minutes' walking, you find a convenience store. Everyone goes inside and chooses what they want to eat and drink. You're choosing a drink and a snack when you feel someone tugging at your jacket sleeve. You turn and face Yeji.

"I forgot my wallet..." says Yeji embarrassed.

"Take what you want, I'll pay. "You reply.

"You're the best," Yeji replies, kissing you on the corner of the lips.

You watch her walk away and grab a drink and some food. You join her and wait in line for your friends to pay. Yeji, standing in front of you, leans against you. You rest your head on top of her. Your hands caress her hips and Yeji presses her buttocks against your crotch.

"Yeji..." you growl.

Yeji says nothing and puts her things down in front of the cashier. You do the same and tell him you'll pay for everything. Yeji waits beside you. You pay for her and give her back her things. Yeji grabs your hand and leads you out. You let her. With your free hand, you open your drink. Once outside with all your friends, Yeji still doesn't let go of your hand. You walk with her. For her part, she's still talking to Ryujin, who smiles at you from afar. Unconsciously, your thumb strokes Yeji's hand. Someone further away calls Yeji and she leaves you alone with Ryujin.

"The day you fuck, it's going to be porn-worthy," Ryujin tells you.

Ryujin's sentence causes you to choke on your drink. Yeji hears you choking and comes over to you.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes yes. Ryujin said something stupid, it surprised me. "

"Oh you know Ryujin. Always making people laugh. "Yeji replies.

You nod and Yeji resumes her place at your side. She gives you her hand back and you keep moving. You ignore Ryujin's glare and start a conversation with someone else.

"It makes me laugh how Yeji is with you. " Says one of your friends.

"What do you mean? "

"Oh you know Yeji is pretty cold and can scare people. But with you, it's the opposite. You manage to make her nice and she's lost without you. “

"Yeji is not lost without me. " You retort.

"Are you kidding? When you don't come to classes, Yeji sulks all day. "

"That's not even true." Sulks Yeji.

"We don't listen to other people's conversations miss. "

"I have to defend myself, you're talking over me. "

"You're really lost when Y/N isn't around. "Ryujin intervenes.

Yeji decides to sulk. You reassure her and Ryujin laughs at the two of you.

The evening continues elsewhere, but you decide to go home. You have to work tomorrow, but of course Yeji wants you to stay.

"I'm working tomorrow, sweetheart. "

"Stay with me. "Yeji pleads

"Yeji, I'm sorry but I have to work. "

Yeji pouts but she lets you go anyway after several hugs and before she leaves Yeji does something that scotches you. Yeji kisses you and runs off. You stand there like an idiot.

----

Yeji doesn't feel like going to class. One, because the class is boring and two, because you're not there. You haven't answered her messages for two days and Yeji wonders if it's because of your kiss. She's given it a lot of thought and of course Yeji thinks, no, she's sure, she's in love with you. But the young woman is afraid to break your friendship. After all, you've known each other since childhood, and your mothers are best friends.

"Any news from Y/N? " Yeji asks one of your friends.

"You're going to kill me Yeji.." says your friend.

"Why's that? "Yeji asks in surprise.

Your friend wants to answer, but you burst into the classroom, only to be stopped by your teacher's scream.

"Y/N, are you okay? "

You nod and go over to Yeji. Yeji is shocked, her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide. You sit down and take out your things as everyone looks on.

"Bro, I'm sorry. "Your friend says.

"Shut the fuck up. "You say sternly.

"What happened? "Yeji asks.

"That asshole. "You say to Yeji, pointing at your friend.

Yeji doesn't understand.

"That asshole drank too much, looked for shit, found it and took off, leaving me at one versus four. "You explain.

"Man, I swear I'm sorry. "

"Shut the fuck up. I swear, if I hear one more sound out of you, I'm gonna fuck you up. "

Yeji has never seen you so pissed off. The young woman grabs your hand and you let her. You take your things out and listen to the lecture.

It's true that you're pretty banged up. A black eye and a bandage cover your right cheek.

"Are you all right?" Yeji asks softly.

"Yes, now that I'm with you. "You retort.

Yeji's heart races after your statement. She grabs your hand and kisses it. You send her a smile and Yeji smiles back. The class is going well, your friend is trying to make amends but you're not listening. You know he feels terrible, but you're far too angry with him.

"I'm having a party next week at my place. You're coming right? "Yeji asks.

"Of course I'll come. Could I sleep over? "

"Sure. "

It's decided for the young lady. She'll tell you how she feels at the party.

----

"LET’S START THE PARTY " shouts Yeji standing on the table.

You laugh to see Yeji so happy.

"Everyone thanks Yeji for making this party. "You shout to everyone.

The guests thank Yeji, who sends you a huge smile from afar. You raise your glass in her direction and head outside.

Once you've calmed down, you light yourself a cigarette. You take a puff and take a deep breath before releasing the smoke.

"Got one for me?" says a voice behind you.

You turn around and see Ryujin.

"Of course I do. I'm practically buying them for you. "

Ryujin pats your arm, laughing. You take out a cigarette and your lighter. Ryujin lights her cigarette and takes a puff.

"Aren't you inside with the others? "You ask Ryujin.

"Nop. Too many people and I saw you slip away. "

"We can't hide anything from you Shin Ryujin. "

"Oh no. Like the fact that you're madly in love with Yeji."

You laugh.

"Is it that obvious? "

"Please you fuck her with your eyes. "

You want to say something but Ryujin cuts you off.

"And yes it's mutual. I'm her best friend, I know almost everything. "

"Fuck it. "You reply, stubbing out your cigarette.

You apologize to Ryujin, who encourages you, and run into the house to look for Yeji.

"Do you know where Yeji is?" You ask one of the guests.

"She's upstairs. "

"Thank you. "

You walk up the stairs and see Yeji coming out of his room. Yeji gives you a big smile and that's what you want to see for the rest of your life. That smile.

"What are you..."

"I love you Yeji. I love you more than anything. " You cut Yeji off. "I want us to be together. I want to share the rest of my life with you. "

Yeji jumps on you and puts her legs around your waist. You kiss her and the young woman responds to your kiss.

"In my room." Yeji says between kisses.

You move towards her room, still with Yeji glued to you. You continue to kiss her. The party's in full swing downstairs, but for you upstairs, it's as if it's just the two of you. You push open her bedroom door with your foot and once inside Yeji climbs off you.

She locks the door and Yeji clings to it. With a seductive look, Yeji bites her finger.

"I want to try something. "Yeji says.

"Show me baby. "

Yeji kisses you and tells you to sit on the edge of his bed. You listen and wait.

Yeji starts playing music and the young woman begins to undulate to the beat. At first you're confused, but when you see Yeji start to take off her top, you quickly understand. Yeji is stripping. The young woman soon finds herself in her bra, and you start stroking yourself through your pants.

"Show me your lovely breasts sweetie. "

Yeji does just that, removing her bra and giving you a magnificent view of her breasts. To be on a par with her, you take off your shirt.

Yeji continues to dance and your gaze is fixed on her beautiful breasts. With her arms, Yeji squeezes her chest, bringing out her breasts. She kneads her breasts and squeezes her nipples between her fingers.

It's a magnificent sight. Yeji continues, running her fingers under the folds of her skirt. The young woman taunts you, pretending to pull down her skirt.

"You're such a tease."

"You love it. "Yeji does.

"Pull your skirt down so I can see what I'm interested in. "

"And what interests you? " Asks Yeji, turning around.

"Your beautiful pussy and ass."

Yeji lowers her skirt to mid-height. You see half of her buttocks. You notice the pretty black thong.

"A thong? Naughty girl. "

"Only for you. "

Yeji continues her dance and this time the young woman pulls down her skirt and takes it off leaving her in a thong in front of you.

You take off your pants and Yeji immediately notices your erection under your boxers.

Yeji gets down on all fours and advances towards you. You can't take your eyes off her, Yeji's gaze is so seductive.

Yeji straightens up and what the girl does makes you moan. Yeji licks the length of your cock through your boxers.

"Fuuuuuuuck Yeji," you moan.

Yeji moves up to you. She leaves kisses all over your body and after kissing you Yeji turns her back to you. Her ass is in front of your face and you can't help but bite her bottom.

"Baby..." laughs Yeji.

"Sorry, I had to it was in front of me. "

"I'd rather you ate that. "

Yeji runs her fingers under the folds of her thong and leans in. The view before you is magnificent. Yeji is leaning forward and you have her pussy and ass well presented in front of you. Her holes awaiting only one thing your mouth.

Yeji straightens up and sits on you, her back against your chest. The young woman undulates over your pelvis. You feel your cock slide between her buttocks. You grab her face and turn her head to kiss her. Yeji responds to your kiss still continuing the friction between your cock and her ass.

"Bend over the bed. I'm going to eat your pussy."

"Fuuuck yes." Yeji replies.

The young woman stands up and you swap places. Yeji gets down on all fours on the edge of the bed and you kneel behind her.

You take a deep breath of her pussy smell and ask yourself no questions, going straight for her pussy lick.

"Oh my God! "Yeji does.

You lick the folds of her pussy before attacking her hole with your tongue. You insert your tongue into her pussy and Yeji screams with pleasure. With your tongue you make circles and feel Yeji play with her clit.

"Your pussy tastes so good. "

You begin your oral assault again but knocks on the door startle you. You decide to ignore them and continue to lick Yeji but the knocks persist.

"Hey, what are you doing in there! Come downstairs! "

You ignore the knocking and insert a finger into her pussy. You move back and forth and Yeji puts her hand over his mouth to keep from howling with pleasure.

"COME ON! "says the voice from behind.

"SHUT UP AND LET ME EAT YEJI'S PUSSY IN PEACE. " You scream.

Yeji wants to say something but you continue your oral assault on her pussy. And anyway, you just announced what you were doing so Yeji screams.

"YOU EAT MY PUSSY SO WELL. "

"DON'T FORGET TO EAT HER ASS TOO. "

You recognize Ryujin's voice. She's telling everyone to fuck off and you're still sticking your tongue in Yeji's cunt.

"Ryujin's not wrong. You can eat my ass too. "Yeji does between moans.

Yeji doesn't have to tell you twice. You spread her ass and go straight to licking her asshole. You lick everything you can. Her buttocks, her hole, the edge of her hole. With your tongue, you force access to her hole and Yeji continues to touch her clit. You decide to insert a finger into her pussy and Yeji becomes a mess.

With her holes stimulated Yeji doesn't hold back her moans.

"If you only knew how much I've dreamed of this. I've always wanted you to eat my pussy and ass."

"Tell me more. "

"It started at the end of high school. You were playing soccer and I imagined you sweating between my legs. "

"And here I am, my tongue up your ass. You happy? "

"Super happy. Make me come. "

You speed up the movements of your tongues but also the coming and going of your fingers in her pussy.

"Fuuuck fuuuck. "

You feel her asshole tighten around your tongue. Yeji's not far from cumming so you speed up the tongue movements. But what Yeji didn't expect was for your tongue to be replaced by a finger.

With your finger, you finger her ass and pussy at the same time. Yeji screams with pleasure and suddenly your fingers are expelled from her holes and Yeji falls onto the bed, breathless but happy. You see her legs shake and her toes curl up.

You start by kissing one of her buttocks, then her back, the nape of her neck and up to her face. You lie on top of her and Yeji wiggles her ass at your cock.

"Tonight, I fuck your pussy," you say in her ear.

"It's the least you can do after eating my pussy and ass."

"You're such a slut. "

"But I'm your slut. So now put your cock inside me. "

Still lying on top of her, you straighten up and knead her ass. You spread her ass and rub your cock against her holes.

"Put it in my pussy, don't tease me. "Yeji moans.

"Your ass is tempting but your pussy just wants to be fucked. "

To help you Yeji brings her hands down and spreads her ass. You keep sliding your cock against her pussy, taunting her as you let your cock sink gently into her pussy. You watch your cock disappear into Yeji's tight pussy hole and you let out a moan together. You're surprised to see your cock already soaking wet.

"Fuck Yeji you're so wet and tight. I feel so good inside you. "

"I want you to fuck my pussy. I want to not be able to think afterwards, your only goal is to get me hooked on your big cock. "

"Slut, I'm going to destroy that pussy and get you so addicted you'll want me to fuck you every day. "

"Fuck me. I'm your whore. "

Excited by Yeji's words, you plunder your girlfriend's vagina. Yeji lets out a hoarse moan and you continue to fuck her pussy. In this position you dominate the young woman. Lying on Yeji's back, you give her powerful lumbar thrusts. Yeji loves it, you notice the young woman biting the sheet to keep from screaming. You decide to grab her hair and pull her face towards you.

"Don't hold back. Let the whole house hear how well you take my cock. "

"Fuuuck! You fuck me so good! "

"That's right, don't be shy. Show who you belong to. "

"I belong to you! My pussy is yours and your big cock! "

You kiss the young woman, who forces her way into your mouth with her tongue. You keep thrusting and notice that your cock is covered in juice.

"You're creaming. "

"I love it so much. "

"I love you so fucking much Yeji."

Yeji is shocked by your sudden declaration. Shocked but happy.

"Me too my love. " The young woman replies, kissing you.

You stand up straight and overlook Yeji now. You knead her buttocks and plunder her again. You dominate her completely and decide to slap her ass.

"Again! "

You listen to Yeji and slap her ass again. You alternate between going in and out of her pussy and slapping her ass.

"Your pussy is so tight. "

Yeji tightens the vaginal walls around your cock and you let out a moan of pleasure.

"Do it again. "

Yeji listens to you and does it again. It's so tight that you have to take it upon yourself not to cum. You wouldn't want to ruin this moment with Yeji by cumming so quickly.

"Baby, let me turn around. "Yeji tells you.

You pull your cock out of her pussy and Yeji turns around. Your eyes meet and Yeji straightens up to kiss you. It's not a sex kiss, it's a love kiss, it's the kiss of two people in love. You grab her face and deepen the kiss. Yeji puts her hands around your neck and pulls you forward. You fall on top of her and this time you're in the missionary position. Continuing the kiss, you find her vagina and push your cock inside. Yeji moans into your mouth and you muffle her moan with your mouth.

You start by slowly moving back and forth. You kiss Yeji everywhere. Her mouth, her neck, her cheeks. It's sensual, the aim is to please Yeji, you concentrate on pleasing your partner. One of your hands grabs one of her breasts and kneads it. Yeji wants to moan, but you muffle her moan with your mouth. You feel Yeji undulate her pelvis to get more friction with your cock.

It's so sensual. The movements, the moaning noises, the sounds of flesh against flesh, the sounds of kissing. With your right arm, you grab her leg and pull it up towards her. With this new angle, you penetrate Yeji deep inside her. You release her mouth and the young woman is free to moan.

"Baby, it won't be long before I come. "

"In that case, come. Show me how beautiful you are when you cum. "

You speed up the back-and-forth movements and Yeji screams with pleasure.

"Come Yeji. Come my love. "

You feel Yeji's vaginal walls close around your cock. Yeji lets out a cry of pleasure and you feel her tremble. You don't stop and keep pounding her pussy. It won't be long before you cum either. All you hear is flesh pounding against flesh. The bed creaks and bangs against the wall, so powerful is your coming and going.

Yeji grabs your face and inserts her tongue into your mouth. This is what you needed to make you come. With one last thrust, you spill your seed into Yeji's pussy. You've cum so hard that your cum expels your cock from her pussy.

Exhausted, you drop onto Yeji who's trying to catch her breath.

"You came so hard. "Yeji says.

"Did you like it?"

"I loved it, my love. "

"Since there's no more noise, that means you're done. You can go downstairs, everyone's gone. "Ryujin says from behind the door.

"Did you stand behind the door all the way Ryujin? "You ask.

"Maybe I did. "

You burst out laughing with Yeji.

[littlelamy]

hii i was wondering if you could do s2!rafe/soft!rafe and kook!reader having sex for the first time? and can rafe give reader aftercare afterwards? like rafe didnt know about aftercare but ever since he started dating reader hes been asking Sarah for advice and has been learning a lot. so he decides to put his new-found knowledge to use

author's note: hope you like it!! 1/2 requests completed today ;)

Rafe’s heart was racing as he held you, his chest pressed against yours, both of you wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and shared intimacy. The way you looked at him—eyes half-lidded, lips swollen from his kisses—made his breath hitch. You were glowing, a sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, hair splayed across the pillow like a halo. For a moment, he just stared, memorizing the way you looked, the way you felt beneath him.

He couldn’t believe how lucky he was, how you trusted him with something so intimate. He had spent so long wrapped up in his own insecurities, trying to live up to the expectations of those around him. But with you, none of that mattered. You saw him—truly saw him—and that terrified him as much as it made him feel alive.

Slowly, his lips found yours again, softer now, less urgent but no less passionate. His hands moved to cradle your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks as if you were made of porcelain. Every touch, every kiss, was deliberate, as though he was savoring the moment, storing it away to revisit later in his mind.

“I was scared,” he admitted quietly against your lips, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not of you… but of messing this up.”

You cupped his face, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You could never mess this up, Rafe. I’m here with you because I want to be.”

His lips trembled into a soft smile, and he kissed you again, lingering, as if he could communicate everything he felt through that one act. His hands roamed your body, learning the curves, the dips, the places that made you shiver. He trailed kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, down to your chest, each touch deliberate, reverent.

His fingers brushed over your nipples, eliciting a soft moan from your lips, and his mouth followed, warm and wet, sucking gently as his hand continued its exploration. He loved the way your body responded to him, the way you arched into his touch, the soft sounds you made spurring him on.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the swell of your breast. “I mean it.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you breathed, your hands gripping his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him. “I need you, Rafe.”

Those words sent a thrill through him, and he kissed his way down your body, trailing his lips over your stomach, nipping gently at your hip bones. He paused at the apex of your thighs, glancing up at you with a question in his eyes, seeking permission. When you nodded, he leaned in, his mouth hot and eager against your core.

The first swipe of his tongue made you gasp, your back arching off the bed. He took his time, learning what made you sigh, what made you moan, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you steady. He lavished attention on you, the taste of you intoxicating, as if he could get drunk on the essence of you alone.

“Rafe,” you moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging gently as your hips bucked against his mouth. He groaned in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body.

He didn’t stop until you were trembling, gasping his name as you came apart beneath him, your body writhing with pleasure. Only then did he crawl back up your body, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was both tender and possessive, as if he was staking his claim.

“I love the way you taste,” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky with desire. “I could spend forever just doing that.”

You blushed, your hands sliding down his chest, nails grazing lightly over his skin, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. “I need you inside me, Rafe. Please.”

He didn’t make you wait. Slowly, carefully, he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locking onto yours as he pushed in, inch by agonizing inch, giving you time to adjust. His breath came out in ragged gasps, the feeling of you surrounding him nearly undoing him on the spot.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he stilled, letting you both catch your breath. “You feel so fucking good.”

“So do you,” you whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist, urging him deeper. “Please, Rafe. Move.”

He obeyed, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in, setting a slow, deliberate pace. Every stroke was measured, each movement designed to draw out your pleasure, to build you up slowly. He watched the way your face contorted in pleasure, the way your lips parted, breathy moans spilling out with every thrust.

The rhythm built steadily, his movements becoming more urgent, more insistent as he lost himself in the sensation of being with you, the world narrowing down to the two of you, to the heat and the friction, to the way your bodies moved together in perfect sync.

“I’m close,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as you clung to him, your body tightening around him.

“Me too,” he panted, his thrusts growing erratic, desperate as he chased his release. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

The tension in your body snapped, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you came, your body spasming around him, pulling him over the edge with you. He followed with a groan, his hips jerking as he spilled inside you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he collapsed onto you, both of you trembling, sweaty, and utterly spent.

Rafe held you close, pressing kisses to your damp skin, murmuring soft words of affection as you both came down from the high. He didn’t pull away, didn’t let the moment end. Instead, he wrapped you in his arms, pulling the blanket over the two of you, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I didn’t know it could be like this,” he whispered after a while, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “I didn’t know it could feel so… right.”

You smiled, nuzzling into his chest. “That’s because it’s us. Together.”

As you both lay there, basking in the afterglow, Rafe’s arms wrapped securely around you, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Sarah had told him. Aftercare. The concept had been foreign to him before, something he never considered, but Sarah had insisted it was important—especially if he wanted to make you feel truly cared for, truly safe.

His fingers continued tracing gentle patterns on your back as he mulled over her advice, his heart swelling with a mixture of affection and determination. He wanted to do this right. He wanted to be the man you deserved in every possible way.

Gently, he shifted, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at you. “Hey,” he murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Can I get you anything? Water? A warm towel?”

You blinked up at him, a little surprised but touched by the offer. “Water would be nice,” you admitted, your voice soft, still heavy with the remnants of pleasure.

Rafe smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed. He padded to the kitchen, his mind racing with everything Sarah had told him. Hydration, comfort, reassurance. He filled a glass of water, grabbed a warm, damp towel, and returned to your side, careful not to disrupt the tranquility of the moment.

Sitting beside you, he handed you the water first, watching as you took a sip. “Drink as much as you want,” he encouraged gently, his eyes never leaving yours. “I want you to feel good.”

Once you’d had your fill, he set the glass aside and picked up the towel, his movements slow and deliberate as he began to clean you up. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he wiped away the sweat and any remnants of your shared intimacy, his eyes soft with a depth of care that made your heart flutter.

“You’re so good to me,” you whispered, your hand resting over his as he finished, his fingers entwining with yours.

He kissed your knuckles, a flush rising to his cheeks. “I asked Sarah about aftercare,” he admitted, his voice low but sincere. “I wanted to make sure I did everything right for you. She told me it’s about making sure you feel safe, loved… making sure your body and mind are taken care of.”

You smiled, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. The thought of Rafe going out of his way to learn how to care for you, to make you feel cherished, filled you with a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“And you’re doing amazing,” you assured him, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand. “I’ve never felt more loved, more safe.”

His eyes glimmered with emotion, and he leaned down to kiss you softly, his lips lingering against yours in a kiss that was more about love than lust. “I just want to be everything you need,” he murmured. “Because you’re everything I need.”

You pulled him back into bed, snuggling into his chest as he wrapped you up in his arms once more. His heart beat steadily beneath your ear, a soothing rhythm that lulled you into a sense of peace.

As he held you, Rafe couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of fulfillment. This was new territory for him—being vulnerable, being attentive—but with you, it felt right. It felt like home. And as the two of you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s warmth, Rafe silently thanked Sarah for her guidance and you for your trust, vowing to always be the man who put your happiness and comfort first.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl

[ylangelegy]

what the fuKCKENFR IM SO MAD I CANT REBLOG YOUR POSTS OR MSG U ON MY SIDEBLOG RN COS ANOTHER??? HOZIER??? FIC????

(work song next WHHAT WHO SAID THAT)

so full of love (i could barely eat) 🍒 seungcheol x reader.

★ established relationship, pet name ['baby'], inspired by hozier's work song. viv, i know this was supposed to be in response to worship in the bedroom (and not really a serious request), but the thought of cheol x work song did not let me go. a little gift for u. <3 word count: 755.

It’s nearly two in the morning when Seungcheol gets home. 

One of those days, he likes to call it. He had been out of the apartment before the sun rose up, had jumped from one schedule to another with something akin to reckless abandon. Fan meet. Radio show. Practice. Meeting.

When he’s busy, the exhaustion is kept at bay. There’s no time to think about the phantom ache behind his knee, the pesky soreness of his thigh.

But then he walks through the front door and it all comes crashing down on him. Suddenly, he is Atlas, bearing the heavens on his shoulders. 

He toes off his shoes with a soft sigh. Evidence of you is apparent from the entryway. The kitchen light has been left on. The humidifier is spewing one of his favorite scents. A collection of sweet nothings, none of which he thinks he deserves.

Had he even texted you today? Seungcheol isn’t certain. He remembers seeing your texts light up his screen, though. Gentle reminders from morning to evening. 

Don’t forget your vitamins. 

Grab lunch. 

Bundle up. It’s snowing, and your bones are weak to the cold. 

Seungcheol had listened at each turn, whether or not he realized it. A multivitamin from Seungkwan. A sandwich hurriedly eaten on the way to the studio. The scarf you had given him, the one that still faintly smelled like you.

He knows there’s probably food waiting for him in the microwave, knows you’ve likely set aside a plate in anticipation of his late arrival. Seungcheol bypasses it in favor of heading for your shared bedroom. 

Sure enough, you’re already asleep. He’ll realize a little later that you texted about that, too— a message of might be asleep when you get home, I love you— but for now, he only lingers by the doorway as he watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest. 

He feels everything then. The gnaw of guilt. The overwhelming affection. The urge to protect and provide. 

As quietly as he can manage, Seungcheol crosses the room. He can already predict how you’re going to react to him sinking into bed and sliding underneath the covers with you. 

You stir in your sleep at the feeling of Seungcheol snaking his arm around your waist. Despite being half-awake, you have the wits to mumble, “You’re still wearing outside clothes.” 

Bingo. 

Seungcheol knew it, and the thought of that— of correctly predicting what you might do or say— fills him with an odd sense of pride. He doesn’t give voice to it, though, not wanting to rouse you more than he already has. 

“I’ll change.” His voice is a murmur even though there’s no other soul in the apartment besides you two. Something about the early hour and the low light makes him feel like he should tread carefully, like the moment is as fragile as ice on a lake. “Just wanted to hold you for a bit, baby.” 

You grumble something incoherent, the words lost to the way you bury your face into the front of Seungcheol’s shirt. And suddenly Seungcheol can’t help himself. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. Then one to your forehead. Then one to your temple. Then—

“Cheol.” You whine out his name, your tone edged with exhaustion. You never did take kindly to your sleep being interrupted. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he huffs. 

He kisses the tip of your nose for good measure. 

It’s one of those days. Seungcheol is bone-tired, and home late, and he missed you. If he were a stronger man, a better man, he’d let you sleep. Stalk off to eat his microwaved dinner and change into his pajamas so you don’t gripe about dirty sheets in the morning. 

Seungcheol decides: He’s not a good man. And so instead he holds you a little tighter, leaves a couple more kisses across your face, allows his body to let go of the day’s weight. 

After his nth kiss to your face, you let out another low grumble. He’s about to apologize, about to tell you that he’ll finally, finally let off, when you tilt your head up to lazily slot your lips against his. You’re barely coherent, and yet you’re still giving him exactly what he wants needs. 

Soft, sleepy, sweet. His, his, his.

Seungcheol’s eyes flutter close. He makes no move to deepen the kiss, to ask for more than what you can offer. 

In your arms, he feels a little less like Atlas. 

In your arms, he’s just Seungcheol. 

There's nothin' sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be She'd give me toothaches just from kissin' me

[sasheemo]

Revenge and Reconciliation

Pairing: Ex gfs Bound!Agatha x Witch!Reader

Summary: When the hex shatters, the bond between you and Agatha reignites with a force too raw to ignore. Confronting her after decades of anger, betrayal, and yearning, you’re determined to make her pay. Power, passion, and a collision of unresolved emotions blur the line between vengeance and surrender.

Tags: Bitter Ex Gfs, Smut, Revenge Sex, Emotional Angst, Power Dynamics, Magic-Infused Sex, Magic Strap, Magic Cum, Magic Wrists Restraints, Slight Degradation, Cum Powered Reconciliation, Revenge Gets Sticky, Sub!Agatha (I know, wtf), Writing Sub Agatha Feels Illegal, Is It Subbing If She Still Wins Tho?

Word count: 6.6k

A/N: I wrote this fic as an attempt to wrestle my way out of the creative block that’s been clinging to me like an overly affectionate stray cat. I don’t think it’s the best thing I could have written, and I’m not entirely convinced by it, but the idea had been gathering dust on my list for a while, so here we are.

The concept of sub!Agatha has always intrigued me—mostly because, in my mind, it’s about as rare as a solar eclipse. I usually stick to writing Dom!Agatha, but hey, I think sub!Agatha is canon-compliant too… just in that “blink and you’ll miss it, alignment of the magical cosmos” kind of way.

For this fic, I decided to throw caution (and some very own personal hcs) to the wind and see if I could somehow make that dynamic work in an x Reader setting. Did I nail it? Definitely not. Do I feel like I truly captured the elusive sub!Agatha vibe that lives rent-free in my head? Eh, we’ll call it a work in progress. Maybe I’ll take another swing at it someday. For now, here’s my first attempt—enjoy! 💜

MASTERLIST

Read on AO3

It’s subtle at first—a faint ripple in the air, like a string pulled taut and suddenly slackened. But you feel it, deep in your body and soul, as if the ground beneath you shifted. 

The hex is broken. 

Agatha.

Her name lingers in your mind like a curse, dragging with it a torrent of emotions you’ve spent decades trying to bury.

Fury, white-hot and all-consuming, surges to the surface, clawing at the walls you’ve built around it. You can feel it all, the bitterness, the pain, the endless ache of betrayal.

Yet everything feels shushed by the unmistakable pull of her magic, faint but familiar, like the distant hum of a melody you can’t forget.

You’ve tried to sever this bond more times than you can count, poured every ounce of power into cutting the thread of magic that still ties you to her. 

But it never worked. Years of spells, rituals, and desperate attempts to scrape her magic from your soul couldn’t erase that connection, that cruel reminder of the love you once shared.

You don’t want to feel her. You don’t want to feel anything.

But with the hex shattered, she’s there—everywhere. The memories rise like a tide, drowning you in the ghost of what once was. 

The warmth of her fingers, trailing just long enough to leave a fire in their wake. Her voice, low and teasing, laced with promises that made your heart race. You remember the way she laughed, genuine and unguarded when she let herself forget the world, or the way her lips curled into a smirk when she caught you staring, daring you to look away. Those stolen nights, when her touch was tender and her kisses slow, felt endless, like she was giving you pieces of her no one else had ever seen.

And then… nothing. 

She left. Without a word. Without a reason. Without even a shred of decency to say goodbye. She disappeared like smoke, leaving only the cold, bitter truth: it meant nothing. You meant nothing.

The memories crash to a halt, mocking you, shaming you, for ever believing she could be anything more than one of her masterly crafted lies. 

Your magic surges in response, wild and vengeful, begging for release. You clench your fists, trying to ground yourself, but it’s futile. Her presence—or the absence of it—calls to you.

It’s been decades, but the wound is as raw as the day she abandoned you, as sharp as the moment you realized she wasn’t coming back. 

But you won’t give her the chance to run this time.

Without hesitation, you focus your energy, feeling the familiar pull of teleportation. The world shifts, and when you open your eyes, you’re standing outside her house in Westview. It’s dark and unassuming, the air around it heavy with the remnants of the hex’s magic.

The door slams open with a burst of energy, the wood groaning under the force of your magic. The faint remnants of Wanda’s hex still cling to the air, a metallic tang that pricks at your senses, but they’re nothing compared to the oppressive weight of her presence.

Agatha is sprawled on the couch as if she hasn’t a care in the world, her posture loose and unbothered despite the clear signs of exhaustion clinging to her. 

Her dark hair, longer than you remember, tumbles around her shoulders in wild, mussed waves, catching the light like ink kissed by moonlight. Her clothes are rumpled, the lines of her blouse wrinkled and her jeans have clearly seen better days, but somehow the disarray only adds to her maddening allure. 

And then there’s her face—those sharp cheekbones, that pale, smooth skin, and the glint in her icy blue eyes that even now refuses to dim. 

She looks up at you, her smirk curling with the same audacity that’s haunted you for decades, and for a moment, you hate how effortlessly breathtaking she is, how your heart still skips a beat whenever her eyes meet yours. Even now, even when she’s powerless.

“Well, well.” she drawls, tilting her head, her voice laced with a defiance she has no right to feel. “Come to gloat?”

You take a step inside and the air shifts, charged with the force of your presence. For the first time in decades, you’re the one with the power, and Agatha—bound, powerless, and alone—is at your mercy.

“You look terrible.” you say, your voice sharp, cutting. “What happened to the all-powerful Agatha Harkness? Shouldn’t you be out scheming, manipulating, destroying lives? Oh, wait—”. You step closer, savoring the way her smirk falters, “You can’t.”

Agatha’s smirk snaps back into place, but there’s a flicker—tiny, fleeting—of something behind her eyes. Fear? No, she wouldn’t let you see that. Regret? That would be even more shocking. Whatever it is, it’s gone in an instant.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you.” she says, leaning back against the couch. “I guess that hasn’t changed.”

Your jaw tightens, so hard you’re lucky you don’t chip a tooth. The sheer audacity of her, lounging there like she hasn’t single-handedly fueled centuries of your bitterness, makes your magic flare. 

The air around you hums with tension, a wave of heat radiating from your skin, but she doesn’t even flinch. Of course she doesn’t. Why would she? Agatha has always been maddeningly immune to the consequences of her actions. 

“Don’t you dare pretend nothing happened.” you snap, stepping closer until you’re towering over her. “You left, Agatha. You abandoned me without a word. No explanation, no goodbye—just gone. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

“I had my reasons.” she murmurs, voice quieter now, almost too quiet.

Your laugh is cold, bitter. “Reasons? That’s the best you can come up with? You destroyed me, Agatha. For decades, I tried to understand why, to make sense of how I meant so little to you.”

Her lips part as if to speak, but no words come out. For a moment, just a moment, you see something raw in her gaze—a vulnerability she’s trying desperately to hide.

“Don’t.” you say sharply, your magic flaring brighter. “Don’t you dare try to justify what you did. You don’t get to play the victim.”

Her smirk falls back into place, but it’s weaker now, almost brittle. 

“You’re really milking this righteous fury thing, aren’t you?” she quips, though her voice lacks its usual bite. “What do you want, then? Revenge? Closure? Or did you just miss me?”

The last question catches you off guard, her tone teasing but her eyes searching. Your magic is screaming at you to be unleashed, the rage bubbling so close to the surface as you lean in closer, your face inches from hers.

“What I want,” you say, your voice low and dangerous, “is for you to feel even a fraction of the pain you caused me.”

The heat of your fury presses down on her, forcing her back into the couch. Her sharp tongue falters, her bravado slipping just enough for you to see it: the crack in her armor, the shadow of fear in her eyes.

“Give me one good reason,” you hiss, venom drenching your tone, “why I shouldn’t end this now. Why I shouldn’t take everything from you the way you took everything from me.”

“Because you still love me.”

Five words, and everything you’ve built comes crashing down.

It festers like an old wound torn open, flesh ripped apart to reveal something gory beneath, bleeding and pulsing. It’s a visceral pain that feels like it might consume you whole, a dark, twisting ache that blooms in your chest and radiates outward.

Your grip on your magic falters, and for a fleeting second, you see her as she was all those years ago—the woman who once held your heart in her hands, who kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered.

The memory bleeds into the present, stark and jarring, clashing with the image of the woman before you now. She’s still breathtaking, but there’s a hollowness in her now, a shadow where the fire used to burn brightest. 

The contrast churns something bitter and broken inside you—resentment, grief, yearning, perhaps all three at once. It’s unbearable, the way the past and present collide, leaving you adrift in the space between what was and what is.

You force yourself to recoil, your magic snapping back to you as if burned. 

“Love?” you spit, the word a venomous hiss that cuts through the charged air between you. “You think I could still love you after everything you did? I fucking hate you, Agatha.”

Her laughter startles you—a sharp, bitter sound that carries no joy, only a rawness that sinks deep under your skin. It’s the laugh of someone who’s long since made peace with their own destruction.

“Hate’s just love that’s been shattered to pieces.” she says, her voice cracking, the edges sharp enough to draw blood. “And we both know you’ve been holding onto those shards for decades.”

You want to deny it, to unleash every ounce of fury you’ve carried for all these years, to rip her apart for daring to speak such a painful truth aloud.

But you can’t.

And it’s in this moment of hesitation, of vulnerability, that the rage in your chest shifts—twisting into something far more dangerous.

The bond between you roars, electric and alive, as if responding to your emotions. It’s always been there, tethering you to her no matter how much you tried to sever it. And now, it’s pulling you closer, wrapping around you like dense smoke.

It’s infuriating. It’s intoxicating. And you fucking missed it.

Even bound and powerless, Agatha looks at you as if she’s still in control, as if the years of pain and betrayal you’ve carried mean nothing.

Her eyes narrow, a glint of recognition flashing in that unnervingly sharp gaze. She sees it, she feels it, the way her words have struck a nerve. And, of course, she pounces on it.

“What’s the matter, hon?” she purrs, her voice a sickeningly sweet mockery of concern. “Can’t decide whether to kill me or fuck me?”

The words land like a match to gasoline, igniting a fire it’s far too late to extinguish. The line you’ve been toeing shatters, and before you can stop yourself, you close the final distance between you in one swift movement, your hand wrapping around her throat as you press her back against the couch. 

Her smirk doesn’t leave her lips—if anything, it deepens, her breath catching just slightly as her eyes gleam with something dark and infuriatingly pleased.

You can feel her pulse under your fingertips, quick and unsteady, and it only feeds the chaos roiling inside you.

“You don’t get to say that.” you hiss, leaning closer until your face is inches from hers. “You don’t get to act like this is a game.”

“And what if it is?” she murmurs, her voice low, almost daring. “What if that’s all we’ve ever been?”

The anger in your chest twists, warping into something raw and untamed. You hate her. You want her. The two emotions bleed together, inseparable, consuming.

Your grip on her throat tightens—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who has the power now. She doesn’t fight you, but she doesn’t look away either.

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me.” you say, your voice shaking with the weight of everything you’ve held back. “No idea what it’s been like to carry this—this anger, this pain, this fucking bond I can’t escape.”

Of course, you don’t expect her to apologize, she never would, but the flicker of regret in her eyes is louder than words.

The bond between you hums again, relentless and unyielding, pulling you closer even as you try to resist. You do hate her, but you also can’t deny the way her presence calls to you, the way her magic—even diminished—feels like a part of you.

“Why, Agatha?” you demand, your voice breaking as you lean in closer. “Why did you leave? Why did you—”

She cuts you off by brushing her lips against yours in the barest hint of contact. It’s not a kiss, not yet, but it steals the breath from your lungs all the same. 

As her breath mingles with yours, the world collapses to the infinitesimal space between your lips, a charged, aching void that demands to be closed.

And then, as if honoring that demand, she closes the distance. 

Her lips crash onto yours in a kiss that isn’t tender—it’s a storm, a battle, a clash of wills. Her mouth moves against yours with a desperation that feels like surrender, but there’s no mistaking the way she bites at your lower lip, as if daring you to take more.

You growl low in your throat, the sound vibrating against her lips as your hands find her hips, pinning her harder against the couch. She arches into you, her body a perfect, infuriating fit against yours, and the bond between you flares alive, pulling you deeper into the chaos of her.

Her tongue meets yours, and it’s molten—hot and demanding, tangled in a rhythm that feels like a fight for dominance neither of you is willing to lose. The couch creaks beneath you as you press her down, your weight covering hers completely, your hand sliding up to tangle in her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her gasp into your mouth.

This isn’t forgiveness. It isn’t reconciliation. It’s unfiltered emotion, punishment and possession, everything you’ve bottled up for decades exploding in a collision of anger and desire that leaves no room for restraint.

With a flick of your wrist, her clothes dissolve into shimmering wisps of magic, vanishing like smoke into the air. What’s left behind steals the breath from your lungs despite every part of you screaming not to react, not to let her affect you like this.

The sight of Agatha’s bare body, a masterpiece of soft curves and sharp angles, reignites memories you thought you’d buried—the way her skin once felt beneath your hands, how her body moved in perfect synch with yours, every sound she made etched into your soul.

It’s been decades since you last saw her like this, but time has done nothing to dull her power over you. 

Your pulse thunders in your ears, heat spreading like wildfire through your veins as your gaze trails over her, lingering on the lines of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, the way her thighs tremble ever so slightly.

She’s bound and powerless in every possibile sense of the words, yet somehow she still holds the upper hand.

Her lips curl into the faintest smirk as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. “Still as easy to impress as ever, I see.”

The words snap you out of your trance, a surge of irritation mingling with the desire coursing through you. 

With another flick of your wrist, ropes of magic coil around her wrists, pulling them together and suspending them above her head. The glowing bonds crackle with energy, casting faint light over her bare skin. 

Her smirk falters, just slightly, as she tugs against the restraints, her muscles flexing in defiance and testing their hold.

And it’s that—that small attempt at resistance, her futile struggle against the bonds you’ve created—that makes something snap inside you. 

It’s not just power—it’s the realization that she, the woman who’s haunted your every waking thought and dream, is finally yours to control. The intensity of it almost scares you, the way it spreads through your chest like spilled ink, staining every corner of your mind in pitch black.

It’s a visceral, consuming need to claim her, to fill her, to mark her in a way that will sear into her soul, leaving no room for doubt or escape. The hunger burns through you, fierce and unrelenting, every ounce of your power thrumming with it, shaping itself into something tangible, something undeniable.

Your lower clothing dissolves into shimmering magic, leaving you partially bare—but not fully. The vulnerability of complete nakedness is a luxury you can’t afford. Not right now. Not with Agatha. You want the contrast to be stark—her, stripped of everything, exposed and powerless beneath you, while you remain in control. It’s a statement, a reminder, that here, now, you’re the one with the upper hand.

And then, as though summoned by your need, the strap materializes. And it’s not just magic—it’s a part of you, an extension of your body. 

The weight of it settles against your hips, grounding you, the connection immediate and intimate, as if it’s always been there.

Your gaze drops for a moment, drawn to the way your cock stands proud and commanding, and a smirk tugs at your lips. You take in its size, the thick, substantial girth that demands attention. You make no effort to hide your satisfaction as your hand wraps firmly around its base, stroking it in slow, deliberate movements that make your intent unmistakable.

Agatha’s eyes widen, her own gaze falling to your cock before flicking back to your face. Her lips part slightly, and her tongue darts out to wet them in a motion so instinctive, so sinful, that it sends a fresh jolt of heat through you.

For once, she seems utterly at a loss for words, the sharp wit you’ve come to expect from her silenced by the weight of the moment, and by you.

“Speechless?” you ask, your tone dripping with mockery. “Not like you.”

“Well,” she manages, clicking her tongue, her voice laced with an edge of forced confidence, “you’ve certainly… outdone yourself.”

You press the tip against her thigh, watching as her body tenses and her breath hitches. Slowly, teasingly, you trail it upward, letting it graze her glistening folds but never quite giving her what she wants. 

You see all of her defiance falter the second you tap the tip against her clit. You do it multiple times, teasing her until she’s a panting mess, her chest heaving as her body completely betrays her. 

And yet, her eyes stay locked on yours, burning with a mix of frustration and longing.

“Look at you,” you murmur, your hand sliding back to her throat, wrapping around it just enough to keep her grounded. Her pulse races beneath your fingers, and you feel her body relax into your touch, her submission becoming more evident with every passing second. “You’re supposed to be the powerful one, remember? The one who’s always in control. How does it feel to be at my mercy?”

She doesn’t answer—not with words. Instead, a broken moan escapes her lips as you finally push the tip of your cock into her. The sensation shoots through you like lightning, raw and electric, and you can’t stop the low hum that escapes your lips.

“So wet for someone who acts like she’s above it all.” you say, your voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Tell me, Agatha—do you always get this needy when you’re powerless? Or is it just for me?”

Her cheeks flush, and she glares at you, but the humiliation in her eyes only makes your smirk deepen. She tilts her hips toward you in an attempt to take more, the motion drawing a smug chuckle from your throat.

“Pathetic.” you mock, “You used to have me on my knees, begging for you. And here you are now, so desperate for my cock you can’t even hide it.”

Her lips part in a sharp, trembling intake of breath, her chest rising and falling as her wrists strain futilely against the glowing restraints above her head. 

“You think you’re in control now?” she spits, though her voice trembles. “That this makes you powerful?”

You laugh, cold and merciless, leaning in until your breath fans across the shell of her ear. 

“Oh, I don’t think.” you whisper, your words nothing but a cruel taunt. “I know.”

To drive the point home, you push deeper, and the wet, obscene sound of her body yielding to you fills the room. 

She’s molten, deliciously tight, and her slick heat draws you in like a drug. Every inch you sink into her feels like a conquest, you can feel how her body stretches to take you, how her walls tremble and clench around the pleasurable intrusion, pulling you deeper as if begging for more. 

The sensation is so vivid, so overwhelming, that a loud, unrestrained moan tears from your lips.

“Seems like I’m not the only needy one.” she murmurs, her voice trembling but cutting nevertheless. “Such pretty sounds for me.”

Her words strike a nerve, and the moment they register, your hips snap forward in one sharp, punishing thrust, driving the strap so deep your hips collide with hers. 

The impact sends a jolt through both of you, her sharp cry echoing through the air before it’s cut off as your fingers tighten around her throat.

“Is that what you wanted? Mmh?” you hiss, your voice trembling with the effort to stay in control. “To be fucked like this? To feel what it’s like to be under me for once?”

She doesn’t respond, her voice swallowed by a series of breathless moans as you pull back and thrust in again, setting a slow, languid rhythm that feels more like a claim than a motion. 

You want to break her—but not physically. Even now, even with the all this anger coursing through you, the thought of truly hurting her is unthinkable. You know you’re big, and despite everything, you couldn’t forgive yourself if you let the fury bleeding into your movements cause her pain.

Instead, you pour that intensity into control, into precision, into the way you angle your hips just right to drag your length against every sensitive spot inside her. The sound of her wetness grows louder with each thrust, mingling with the faint creak of the couch beneath you.

“Gods.” you murmur, your free hand gripping her hip to steady yourself. “You feel that, don’t you? How wet you are for me? How much you want this?”

Her head nods slightly, the motion almost instinctive, as if her body answers before her mind has time to process, before the final syllable of your last question even hangs in the air.

“Yes—fuck.” she whispers, the word trembling on her lips. “Yes, I—”

“Louder!” you command, your tone sharp as you feel it—a fresh gush of wetness enveloping you, slick and hot, pulling you in. 

“Yes!” she screams, her voice cracking under the weight of her need. “I want it—I want you.”

Her admission is a spark to the inferno raging inside you, and you give in to it, your magic surging wildly. 

Your pace quickens, your hips snapping forward with growing intensity, each thrust deeper and harder than the last, the slap of your hips against hers a relentless cadence of possession that blends with her cries.

Her wrists pull at the restraints while her back arches and her moans rise higher, each one a testament to your power over her, a surrender you claim with every punishing thrust.

Your gaze drops involuntarily, drawn to the mesmerizing rhythm of her breasts bouncing in time with your movements, and the sight instantly makes your mouth water. The memory of their softness, the way they felt against your tongue and lips, rushes back unbidden, igniting a primal urge to lean down and take one into your mouth.

But you catch yourself, clenching your jaw against the temptation. This isn’t about her pleasure. You’re not here to make her enjoy herself. You’re here to ruin her, to make her crumble under your control.

“Fuck, don’t stop.” she whispers, her voice breaking. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

Your eyes snap back to hers, a wicked grin spreading across your lips as your grip on her throat loosens, your hand sliding down to join the other on her hips. With both hands anchoring her in place, your pace grows ruthless, each thrust drawing louder and more desperate sounds from her.

Her walls tighten around you, squeezing your cock as the connection between you deepens, your magic tangling with hers in a way that feels both chaotic and inevitable.

And then, just as you feel teetering on the edge of release, you pull back, slowing to a maddening pace. 

Your thrusts become shallow, deliberate teases that barely fill her, leaving her gasping and writhing beneath you. Her frustration is palpable, her hips bucking in search of relief, but you hold her steady, a cruel smirk curling your lips.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” you purr, each word dripping with satisfaction. “Just say the word, Agatha. Beg me, and I’ll let you come.”

Her body tenses beneath you, every muscle taut as she fights the command with everything she has, struggling to cling to the last fleeting semblance of control. Even as her thighs quiver and her hips twitch uncontrollably, her pride holds her back, refusing to surrender to you so easily.

But as each thrust reminds her of what she’s being denied, drawing out her torment, her nails curl into her palms, her jaw tightens, and her resolve cracks little by little under the relentless pressure. 

Finally, her head tilts back, her voice breaking as the words tear from her throat. “Please—fuck… please, let me come.”

Her words ignite something feral and all-consuming. Power surges through your veins, setting your every nerve ablaze as you answer her desperate plea and resume fucking her with renewed vigor. 

You slam into her with brutal force, each thrust hitting that soft, devastatingly perfect spot inside her that makes her entire body jerk beneath you. Her eyes roll back, her cries turning into incoherent, panting moans that fuel the raw, insatiable need driving your every motion.

“That’s it.” you growl, your hand sliding down to her clit. You circle it with fast, precise movements, your fingers slick with her arousal as you push her closer to the edge. “Come for me, Agatha. Come on my cock.”

Her moans climb higher, until they peak in a scream that tears through the air as the tension within her shatters all at once. 

Agatha’s orgasm bursts forth like a supernova, bright and devastating, her walls clenching and spasming around you in rhythmic pulses that leave you breathless. She cries out your name, her voice splintering into a sob as her body quakes with the force of her release.

The sight of her—head thrown back, lips parted, her chest heaving as she trembles in the throes of ecstasy—is almost enough to undo you. But you don’t stop. You keep pounding into her, forcing her to take every inch over and over as you drive her higher, helping her ride out each wave of her climax.

And then, as you revel in the way she’s gripping you as though she never wants to let you go, and your own release threatens to overtake you, you falter.  

Because her eyes—half-lidded, blown wide, and dark with need—lock onto yours, piercing through the haze of control you’ve clung to. Her lips part, trembling, and her voice cuts through the storm.

“Fuck—please, baby.” she gasps, each word breaking into a whimper that makes your stomach tighten and your magic throb. “Come inside me. I need it—need to feel it, need you to fill me up.

That’s it. Her words, how she begged for it, the pet name falling so effortlessly from her lips, the raw desperation in her voice, the sheer thought of filling her up with your cum, of watching her take every drop like she’s made for it. It’s all more than enough to tip you over the edge.

How utterly ruined she looks beneath you only adds to it, and whatever fragile grip you had on your restraint shatters instantly, obliterated by the force of her need.

Your hips snap forward in one last devastating thrust, burying your cock into her as deep as it can go, your climax slamming into you like an explosion. 

And then it happens.

The magic within you surges implacably, a relentless flood that erupts deep inside her in thick, scorching waves. Each pulse of your cock forces more of your release into her, a molten rush that fills her completely. The bond between you roaring with life as your magic claims her from the inside out, leaving no part of her untouched.

Beneath you, Agatha’s body goes taut, her back arching violently as the blue in her eyes gets rapidly swallowed by a swirling, familiar, luminous purple. 

You can feel her magic pouring back into her, she gasps as it all overtakes her, her body trembling violently as another orgasm tears through her. But this one is unexpected, different, and even more powerful than the first. 

Her cry pierces the air, a sound of pure ecstasy and unrestrained power, unlike anything you’ve ever heard. It’s primal, otherworldly, and devastatingly beautiful. For a moment, you’re left breathless, unwillingly captivated by the sight of her. A vision that makes something inside you ache.

When the final waves of pleasure subside, you collapse onto her, your breath ragged, your body trembling with exhaustion and the lingering hum of magic. 

The restraints on her wrists dissolve, fading into shimmering sparks, and her hands hover for a moment, uncertain, before they settle gently on your back.

Her touch is light, not hesitant but careful, as though rediscovering something long lost. And as your bodies press together, it feels as if no time has passed at all since you last lay in each other’s arms.

Agatha’s chest rises and falls with uneven breaths, her lips parted as her hooded eyes lock onto yours.

Her gaze is a labyrinth, a tangle of emotions so layered and profound it’s impossible to unravel. There’s no trace of defiance, no smugness, no sharp wit lurking in the corners. Instead, disbelief and shock hum beneath the surface, while a glimmer of something softer—gratefulness, maybe even devotion—burns faintly. And yet, woven through it all is an aching, unguarded longing.

It’s a silent confession wrapped in questions, and the absence of her usual masks, the sheer vulnerability staring back at you, stirs something deep in your chest, a feeling too overwhelming to even begin to name.

As you pull out of her, you catch how her hips twitch instinctively at the sudden emptiness, and the sound she makes—a quiet, needy whine—makes your breath hitch. 

The cock dissolves in a flicker of shimmering light, fading back into the ether, but your eyes remain fixed on what it left behind.

You watch your cum drip from her, thick and glistening as it slides slowly down her folds. The sight is mesmerizing and utterly filthy, making a new rush of heat coil low in your stomach. 

Agatha notices the shift in your gaze, lazily tilting her head to follow it. When she sees what’s caught your attention, a smug grin spreads across her face, equal parts infuriating and intoxicating.

“Hmm.” she hums, her voice a sultry drawl that sends shivers down your spine. “You always did know how to leave an impression, darling.” 

She pauses, her grin deepening as her eyes flick back to yours, gleaming with sharp amusement. “Though I must say, I never expected to get my powers back this way… not that I’m complaining.”

As soon as you register her words your jaw clenches, a flush rising to your cheeks as frustration surges through you. 

That wasn’t supposed to happen. The thought echoes in your mind, relentless and deafening. You didn’t plan this—hell, you didn’t even know you could do that, and the realization leaves you stunned, reeling. 

You came here to break her, to strip her of whatever scraps of control she had left, to show her just how worthless she was without her power. You came here to make her pay.

But instead, as always, in the end, Agatha got exactly what she wanted. 

The smugness etched into her face says it all. It’s infuriating. Humiliating. Maddening. Everything always plays out in her favor, no matter how the odds stack against her. The universe itself seems to bend for her, conspiring to deliver her victory, while you’re left choking on the ashes of your intentions.

And yet, even in your frustration, there’s a selfish, shameful flicker of satisfaction burning in your chest. You gave her back her power, yes—but you did it your way. Intimate. Indelible. Something neither of you can ignore or undo. 

No matter how powerful she becomes again, no matter how she wields what’s been restored, she’ll always know who gave it back to her and how. She’ll owe you, whether she admits it or not.

In that way, you did make her pay. And the twisted irony of it feels like a cruel, bitter triumph.

Agatha notices the shift in your expression, the way your gaze has drifted into the distance as if lost in thought, and her voice slices through the haze with a softness that catches you completely off guard.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re like this.” she whispers, her tone impossibly gentle, like a secret meant only for you. ”When you’re all mine.”

Her words land like a jolt, anchoring you back to the present and cutting through the fog in your mind. 

There’s something in her voice, an aching sincerity you didn’t expect, that makes something deep inside you twist painfully.

But even if her tenderness disarms you, it still strikes a nerve, clashing violently with the anger and resentment still simmering beneath your skin. You cling to that anger desperately, using it to shield yourself from the confusion clawing at the edges of your control and threatening to drag you under.

“I’m not yours.” you snarl, but the words lack conviction, and you know she hears it.

Her grin returns, sharper now, as if she’s savoring your futile resistance. 

“Oh, darling…” she whispers, her voice dripping with equal parts confidence and affection. “You’ve always been mine.”

You open your mouth to reply, to hurl another retort that might restore some semblance of control, but the words die on your tongue as her hand moves with startling speed. 

Her fingers curl around the back of your neck, her grip firm yet trembling, and she pulls you down roughly, her lips crashing against yours before you can resist.

The kiss is instant chaos, scattering your thoughts like leaves in a storm. Her tongue slides against yours, hot and insistent, tangling and teasing with a fervor that steals the air from your lungs. 

It’s wet, messy, the taste of her flooding your senses as she kisses you with the same confident, consuming intensity she always did. 

But beneath the confidence, there’s something unspoken. 

It’s in the way her body shudders beneath you, in the way her fingers dig into your neck, in the way her lips cling to yours as though letting go might unravel her completely. The vulnerability in her touch and the aching need in her kiss cut through the haze of anger, leaving you trembling and unsure whether the ache blooming in your chest is pain, longing, or both.

But right now, whatever it is you’re feeling, you refuse to linger on it. 

You won’t allow her another second of your time, your presence. The very air around her feels oppressive, making it harder to breathe, and you know that if you stay a moment longer it will be too late to resurface.

With all the strength and willpower you can muster, you push yourself up, breaking away from her touch and from her warmth. 

You wave a hand, conjuring back your underwear and pants in a blur of hasty magic, your movements jerky and unsteady while every fiber of your being screams at you to put distance between yourself and her. To leave.

Suddenly, the bond hums again, loud and persistent, gnawing and mocking at your resolve. You grit your teeth and force yourself to ignore it, taking a couple of steps toward the door, refusing to look back. 

You’ll leave. You need to leave. You want to leave.

But with Agatha, it’s never that easy.

“Wait.”

It’s not a command. It’s not teasing or smug. It’s quiet, almost unsure, and that alone makes you hesitate.

You glance back over your shoulder, your voice sharp with all the frustration burning hot in your chest. “What could you possibly want now?”

She sits up slowly, still completely naked, making no effort to conjure clothes with the magic now thrumming through her.

“Answers.” she says, her tone smooth but tinged with a sly undertone, her gaze locked on yours with unnerving steadiness. “That’s why you came here, isn’t it? To finally hear the truth you think I owe you.” 

She pauses, her lips curving into a faint, almost teasing smile as her eyes flick downward to her still-bare body. “Especially after… this.” Her eyes return to yours, glinting with amusement. “I suppose it’s only fair.”

You fold your arms across your chest, your anger warring with the pull of her words. 

“You owe me more than answers.” you bite back, your voice cutting and cold. “You owe me years of my life, years of trying to understand why you left.”

“And you’ll have them.” her voice softer now, almost disarming. “But not like this.”

Your eyes narrow, suspicion curling in the pit of your stomach. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She rises slowly, her movements deliberate as she closes the distance between you. Her nakedness robs her of nothing—if anything, it sharpens her power, her control. 

When she reaches you, her hand lifts to cup your cheek, her touch infuriatingly warm, a silent challenge wrapped in unsettling intimacy.

“Stay.” she says, her thumb skimming your skin with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch. “We’ll talk. Over dinner. But only if you stay.”

You bristle at the condition, your pride flaring. 

“Using my need for closure as leverage?” you ask, your voice biting. “How very you.”

Her grin returns, sharper now, but her eyes betray a flicker of something gentler. 

“Oh, darling.” she purrs, her voice dripping with confidence, “I know you want this, so, let’s not play pretend. I’d say we’re well past that point, wouldn’t you?”

Your jaw tightens, the weight of her gaze making it hard to hold onto your anger. You hate that she’s right. Hate that you want to stay, that the bond between you has wrapped itself around your heart so tightly you can’t bear to leave.

“Fine. Dinner.” you say, your voice clipped. “But no games, Agatha. You owe me the truth.”

Her smirk deepens for a moment, a glimmer of mischief flashing in her eyes, before softening into a genuine, almost nostalgic smile. 

“No games.” she whispers, her tone unexpectedly gentle. “Just dinner… like old times.”

You shake your head, as if trying to clear the lingering warmth of her touch. But it stays with you as you watch her move toward the kitchen, humming softly to herself.

As you follow her, you can’t help but wonder if staying will be your salvation or your undoing. But with Agatha, it’s never a question of one or the other—it’s always both, tangled together in a way that, after all this time, you’re starting to realize you were never meant to escape.

[hueningstar]

https://www.tumblr.com/hueningstar/771586722068873216/if-youre-not-uncomfortable-with-it-dont-you-think?source=share

ooh I loved this soooo much

can I please request for some soft dom beomgyu and sub f!reader. Where he takes his nice and long sweet time and the rest is up to you. I am excited to see what you’d write tbh

Calm and Steady

Summary : Beomgyu passionately makes love to you, whispering sweet nothings and dirty phrases in your ear as he claims you completely.

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A/N : I looove when ppl praise me for my hard work. Thank you so much,dear anon!!🤗🫶 Also, I lowkey had a hard time portraying Beomgyu as a soft dom since I'm more on the kinkier side so I hope I didn't dissapoint.😣 plss don't hesitate to ask for more,I'd gladly do it!☺️

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Pairing : soft dom!beomgyu × sub!reader

Warnings : soft dom beomgyu, eating out, unprotected sex(wrap it b4 u tap it), gyu is really a sweetheart in this one🙏

MDNI

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The room was quiet, the only sound coming from the gentle hum of a playlist Beomgyu had set up earlier. You sat on the edge of the bed, your legs tucked beneath you, feeling his eyes on you. He was standing by the window, leaning against the frame, his hands resting casually in the pockets of his sweatpants.

He turned toward you, his soft brown hair falling slightly into his eyes. There was no rush in his movements as he approached, his presence filling the room with a calming, steady energy.

“Look at you,” he said softly, his voice a warm hum that sent a shiver down your spine. His tone wasn’t demanding—it was full of quiet reassurance, the kind that made you feel both safe and utterly exposed. “So beautiful, sitting there all nervous. You don’t have to be, you know.”

You blinked up at him as he crouched in front of you, his hands resting lightly on your knees. His thumbs traced slow, lazy circles over the fabric of your leggings, grounding you.

“Hey,” he said gently, waiting until you met his gaze. “If this is too much, we can stop. You set the pace tonight. But if you let me, I’ll take care of everything. You just have to trust me.”

His words were soft yet firm, his tone leaving no room for doubt. He reached up, brushing his knuckles against your cheek, and your breath hitched at the tenderness in his touch.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his lips curling into a smile as you leaned into his hand. “That’s my brave girl.”

Beomgyu's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your lips parted slightly. He leaned in closer, his warm breath ghosting over your ear.

"You're so responsive, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. "The way your body reacts to my touch... it's addicting." His hands continued their slow exploration, trailing up your sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts.

He gently squeezed your breasts, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples through the fabric of your shirt. You let out a soft gasp, your head falling back against the bed as he leaned in to press his lips to your neck. "So sensitive," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

"I want to see you," he whispered against your neck, his hands already working on the hem of your shirt. His fingers brushed against your bare skin, sending goosebumps down your arms. He pulled the shirt over your head, and your nipples hardened in the cool air.

He unhooked your bra with practiced ease, the straps sliding down your shoulders. He tossed the bra aside and took in the view of your bare breasts, his eyes darkening with lust. He palmed one breast, his thumb rubbing the sensitive peak. "So perfect." he breathed.

He wrapped his hands around your breasts, squeezing gently as he leaned down to capture a nipple between his lips. He sucked hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he pinched the other nipple between his fingers. You arched off the bed, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips.

Beomgyu released your nipple with a soft pop, grinning at the desperate sound of your moan. "Shh, we have all night." he whispered teasingly, soothing the abused bud with his thumb. "Let's get you out of these leggings, hm?"

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your leggings and slowly pulled them down your legs, his gaze never leaving your face. You felt yourself getting wetter by the second, your heart pounding in your chest as he revealed your matching pink underwear. "So pretty,"

He hooked his fingers under the elastic of your panties, teasingly dragging them down inch by slow inch. Exposing your glistening folds, he groaned appreciatively. "Look at this, I barely touched you and you're dripping already." He leaned in, inhaling deeply, savoring your scent.

"You smell divine, sweetheart," he murmured appreciatively, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. Unable to resist any longer, he sealed his mouth over your pussy, dragging his tongue through your slick folds in one long, slow lick. "Mmm, delicious too."

He curled his fingers under your thighs, lifting your legs over his shoulders as he buried his face between your thighs. He licked and sucked greedily, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep you in place as he devoured you like a starving man. "Beomgyu."

Your voice was a high-pitched, desperate whimper as he sucked hard on your clit, his tongue flicking rapidly against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Suddenly, he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them to rub against your g-spot as he continued to feast on your pussy.

"That's it, baby," he whispered against your swollen folds, his voice vibrating against your sensitive nerves. His fingers moved faster, pressing harder against that sweet spot while his tongue teased your clit in feverish circles. "Come for me." he commanded, wanting to taste every drop of your release.

Your body coiled tighter and tighter under his skilled ministrations, and with a sharp cry of his name, your orgasm crashed over you. Wave after wave of intense pleasure coursed through your trembling body as Beomgyu continued to lap at your pussy, drinking down every drop of your release.

As you convulsed above him, Beomgyu slowly stood up, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. He looked down at you, sprawled bonelessly on the bed, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. "Turn over,"

He gently tugged on your ankle, urging you to turn over onto your stomach. Once you were in position, he climbed onto the bed behind you, settling his body over yours as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "Such a good girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

His large hands slowly roamed over your curves possessively as he nuzzled into your neck. "Lift your hips." he whispered softly, his fingers splaying out over your stomach to encourage you to arch your back.

With a contented sigh, you lifted your hips, giving Beomgyu easy access to your pussy from behind. He lined his hard cock up with your soaked entrance, teasing the head against your lips before pushing forward, sheathing himself inside you in one smooth stroke.

Beomgyu set a slow, deliberate pace, his thick cock dragging in and out of your dripping pussy as he held you securely against him. His hands never left your waist, maintaining his grip as he fucked you from behind, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass filling the room.

His pace began to gradually pick up, the rhythm of his hips becoming more insistent as he whispered hotly in your ear "You feel so good wrapped around my cock... Do you like it when I fuck you slowly like this, baby?" He reached around to circle your clit with his fingers.

A soft moan fell from your lips as he continued to fill you, the slow drag of his cock combined with the teasing circles on your clit driving you wild with need. "Yes... I love it when you fuck me like this." you whimpered, pressing back against him to take him even deeper.

Beomgyu groaned as you arched your back, meeting each of his deep thrusts eagerly. "Such a greedy girl, taking my cock so well," he praised, his fingers working tirelessly over your clit as he continued to fill and stretch you with his throbbing erection.

Your inner walls fluttered around him, squeezing his cock tightly as he fucked you with passionate, unhurried strokes. Beomgyu's control started to waver, hiships rocking into you harder and faster as he chased his own peak. "Fuck, baby, I can feel you tightening..."

His breathing grew heavier as he maintained his grip on your waist, each measured thrust becoming more intense "Can you take more, sweet girl? I want to feel you come on my cock again..." He began to change the angle of his thrusts, hitting that sensitive spot deep inside you.

"Y... yes, more..." you whimpered breathlessly, completely at his mercy. The new angle made stars burst behind your closed eyes, and you could feel your orgasm building quickly. Beomgyu's finger on your clit became more insistent as he sensed your impending release.

With a final, deep thrust and a press of his finger, he sent you over the edge. Your body convulsed with pleasure, your pussy clenching tightly around his pulsing cock as he came undone right after you. "Fuck, I'm coming inside you, baby..."

Beomgyu groaned loudly, his hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing in time with his intense climax. He leaned forward, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades as he caught his breath, still buried inside your trembling pussy.

"God, that was incredible," Beomgyu murmured against your skin, pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder as he slowly softened inside you. "You're perfect, baby. My perfect little fuck doll." He nuzzled your neck affectionately, his hands slowly caressing your hips and waist.

You could only whimper in contentment, completely sated and weak in the knees from the intense pleasure. Your inner walls fluttered around his slowly softening length, milking the last drops of his release.

After several long moments basking in the afterglow, Beomgyu finally slipped out of you, his cock glistening with your combined fluids. He laid you down gently on the bed, admiring your flushed body sprawled across the sheets.

Beomgyu trailed a finger lightly down your back, eliciting a delightful shiver. "Look at you, utterly ravished and gorgeous. I could admire this view all day," he mused, a playful smirk curling his lips. "Think you've got another round in you, sweetheart?"

You looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, a lazy smile spreading across your face. "Maybe... if you're up for it." you purred, already feeling a familiar warmth building between your thighs at the thought of another round with Beomgyu.

Beomgyu's eyes darkened with desire as he took in your inviting expression. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss as his hands began to roam your body once more. "Oh, I'm more than up for it, baby," he murmured against your lips.

Beomgyu pulled away slightly, his breath ragged, eyes filled with anticipation. He looked at you, his fingers tracing the outline of your jaw as he whispered, “I love how you look at me, always so sure, so confident.”

You chuckled softly, your hands finding his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “And I love how you never hesitate.”

His smile softened, and he kissed your forehead, lingering there for a moment as if savoring the moment. "Let's just take it slow this time," he murmured, his voice gentle.

You nodded, your body relaxing in his arms as you enjoyed the warmth of his embrace. No rush, no pressure—just the simple comfort of being together in that quiet, tender space.

────୨ৎ────

[notapradagurl7]

Fond Of You.

Black Fem! Reader x Kelvin Harrison Jr.

Summary: You were Kelvin’s assistant, and there were pros and cons to being the actor’s assistant but the two of you would be in need of physical touch. Crossing the line with your handsome boss.

A/N: One of my favorite one I wrote about this cutie, Don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, feel free to ask for a request! ❤️

Taglist: @planetblaque @megamindsecretlair @hxneyclouds @superheroprincess22 @westside-rot @yassbishimvintage @nayaesworld @henneseyhoe @sageispunk @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @mymindisneverhere @ovohanna24 @novahreign @babybratzmaraj @avoidthings @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blackmoonchilee @euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest- @becauseimswagman1

Warnings: +18, dirty talk, praise without the word “good girl”, mention of burnout, consensual for both parties, fingering, dry humping, slight degradation if you squint, pet names, handjob, touch deprived Kelvin and reader, fluff, soft smut, sloppy kissing, a domaint reader, short fic.

—————

You sat prettily in the grey plaid armchair with your purple pen gripped in your hand, checking off every box on the checklist, dressed in a grey plaid skirt and match collared buttoned shirt, your ginger box braids tied back in a ponytail. Humming to ‘So Beautiful’ by Musiq Soulchild playing from your pink heart-shaped speaker, in the comfort of your home.

Kelvin sat on the armchair across from you, reading his script in his hand while he sang along to the sweet lyrics of the song, making you smile at him.

“What do you know about Muisq Soulchild boy?” You chuckled, flipping the paper over the clipboard.

You were Kelvin’s assistant, and while you loved your job, it came with its fair share of challenges. The long hours, the endless tasks, and especially the way your heart raced whenever you caught Kelvin's eye.

He was handsome, charming, and had a presence that made it hard to concentrate on anything else.

It was difficult for Kelvin to focus on anything else as well when it came to you, your smile, your laugh.

Kelvin looked up from his script, a playful grin spreading across his face. “What can I say? I have good taste in music,” he replied, his deep voice smooth like honey.

“Oh, so you're blaming me for your newfound obsession Kel? I'll take it,”

He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “What can I say? I like what you recommend to me, I like listening to you,”

“May I ask who you have in mind Kelvin?”

“Only you, you're the only one I want to touch me, Y/N,” Kelvin admitted to you, his eyes on yours.

You felt your heart race as you stood from your chair, moving toward him, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. When you reached him, he stood up from his chair and pulled you close to his clothed body.

“Can I touch you Kelvin?” You asked in a soft tone, a naughty smirk etched on your face.

“Of course you can, beautiful,” Kelvin smiled warmly.

You unbuttoned his shirt and unbuckled his pants while he unzipped your skirt, clothes littered across the carpet. Missing the warmth of his body.

With a grip of your hand, his brown thick dick twitched in response. Your hips buckled onto his crotch and he groaned from the friction. “Does that feel good baby?” you hummed, biting your lip.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groaned lowly, trailing kisses along your neck.

You’re so responsive,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper as you continued your movements, feeling him throb in your palm. The heat between you was palpable.

He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searching your face, filled with a mix of desire and admiration. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You smirked, reveling in the power you held over him. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea,” you replied playfully, your hand tightening around him, eliciting a soft groan from his lips.

His hands gripped a portion of your ass, while capturing your lips for a sensual kiss. His lips were soft and plump. Tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss. His fingers rolled onto your clit, sliding them into your pussy and you moaned wildly.

“Looks like I wasn't the one that was touch-deprived, hm?” he whispered in your ear, referring to your pussy sucking his fingers back in.

You stroked his dick at a steady pace, precum pooling from his tip. Lips suckling on your dark brown skin like a vampire, His hips moved forward into your hand, “Shit, baby, give me more,” you mumbled.

“Then don't hold back, Kelvin. I want you just as much,”

In that moment, he laid you against the cushion of the couch, he pushed his dick between your wet folds and you moaned loudly, he moaned with you at the feeling of your walls gripping him, inch by inch.

“Fuck, I can't believe that you're inside of me baby,” you babbled softly, gripping the armrest.

“Mhmm, does it feel good?” He asked you with a grin, pushing his hips into you, kissing your neck almost lovingly.

This isn’t a good idea but you loved every kiss, thrust, grip and scream that spurred both of you on, the couch creaked under their movement. He smacked your ass in response, “So damn beautiful…” he whispered.

His hips rolled at a rough yet fast pace, your wetness painted his dick completely. Kelvin hovered over you while watching your face contorted in pleasure, “It’s so good, Right there! Faster!” you moaned loudly.

“I got you,” Kelvin groaned deeply, his hands cupping your breasts. You grew wetter and wetter from his tone.

Hitting that sweet spot with precise, pulling him closer to you in a tight bear hug and moving your hips to that same pace, he kissed you passionately, his mouth wrapped around your nipple. Your head fell back onto the pillow.

As if right on cue, you came undone onto his dick and screamed out his name. A mess left on the couch, squirting on his adomden and he pulled out after cumming on your stomach.

Kelvin carefully picked you up in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom and ran you a hot bath, settling you in the tub while you washed yourself clean. He took a shower and cleaned up the mess on the couch.

After that, you knew that you eventually have to speak to him about this but for now you wanted to enjoy this moment.

————

[bellaxgiornata]

Don't Know What You're Talking About

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader Word Count: 1.5k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: Flustered

Warnings/tags: 18+; suggestive comments, flustering Frank in a sundress

Summary: Stressed from a bad week, it's been awhile since you and Frank have had sex. You take the opportunity to intentionally rile him up because of it.

a/n: The last and final post leftover from Tuna-Tober months ago! Finally got around to editing it up and sharing after that unexpected hiatus. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

“What a gentleman,” you teased lightly.

Squeezing past Frank, you slipped into the passenger seat of his truck before smoothing out the skirt of your dress. It wasn’t lost on you the way his dark eyes followed the movement of your hands.

“Getting the door for me and taking me out for brunch today? A girl could get used to this,” you continued, grinning over at him still holding the door of the truck open. 

“Know you been wanting to go to that new place,” he replied gruffly, his eyes returning to your face. “And you had a rough week. Figured it’d cheer you up.”

“That's sweet of you, Frank. It even gave me an excuse to get dressed up,” you told him, your grin growing into a wide smile as you pulled on the seatbelt. “Thankfully it’s Saturday, which means I can just focus on you today. And that is exactly what I intend to do. You've got my undivided attention now that this miserable week is finally over.”

A faint grunt fell out of his mouth in response before he gave you a brief nod in acknowledgement. As you settled into your seat, smoothing your sundress down over your thighs once more, you could feel Frank’s eyes roving over your body. When he continued to hesitate by the door for a second longer, you glanced up from beneath your lashes, catching his gaze as your brows slowly rose.

“Something on your mind?” you asked him.

Frank cleared his throat before giving a quick shake of his head. “Naw, it’s nothin’,” he muttered.

Bottom lip catching between your teeth, you fought back a laugh as you watched him close the passenger door. Your eyes followed his steps as he made his way around the front of the truck towards the driver's side. Gnawing the soft bit of flesh in amusement, you knew damn well what was on his mind. 

Frank loved whenever you wore a dress–especially this particular sundress that hung low and clung to your chest before flaring out over your hips in a way that usually had him struggling to keep his hands to himself. You’d chosen it on purpose for today because you had every intention of breaking that damn eight day no-sex streak you’d both accidentally been stuck in because you had been so frustrated at work this past week.

But first, you desperately wanted to rile him up on this little outing. Fluster him a bit. You truthfully never could resist the sight of Frank cursing under his breath and grumbling, his dark brows knitted together as he called you out on your bullshit. And you damn well planned to get a bit of a rise out of him today. Unbeknownst to him, it was practically foreplay to you.

Frank opened the driver’s side door before climbing into the seat beside you. Starting the truck, the engine roared to life with a rumble just before music began playing quietly over the stereo. Next to you, you caught the way Frank glanced in your direction as he put the truck in reverse.

“You just sit back and relax today, honey,” he told you, looking over his shoulder as he began to back the truck out of the driveway. “Lemme fix your bad week.”

Fighting the urge to grin devilishly at his words, you seized the opportunity he’d just presented you. Leaning back in your seat, you kicked your feet up onto the dashboard of his truck. Your neutral nail polished toes were hard to ignore in your wedge sandals as they sat right there by the windshield. Your dress, which was already on the shorter side, inched a bit down your thighs at the movement.

Frank started down the street, passing a few houses before he pulled the truck to a stop at the corner. He gave you a sidelong glance before he let out a grunt. Turning towards him, you shot him a curious look at the noise, doing your best to play up your innocent act. Frank’s head gestured towards your feet on the dashboard before he spoke.

“What’re you’re doing, sweetheart?” he asked.

You gave a small, innocent shrug in response before focusing back out of the front windshield. Watching him from the corner of your eye, you answered him casually. “You said to sit back and relax. So I am.”

Frank’s jaw visibly clenched in response, his hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel. His attention returned to the road, but you caught the faint huff he’d emitted at your response. 

“Yeah? Is that right?” he asked. “That all you’re doin’, sweetheart? Relaxing?”

“Of course, what else would I be doing?” you asked, still feigning innocence. 

“Pushing my buttons?” he shot back.

Throwing a hand over your heart, you turned at the waist in your seat and let out a dramatic gasp. It took every ounce of your willpower to refrain from smirking when his eyes darted over towards you, his brows furrowing in frustration as his eyes narrowed at you.

“Frank!” you said, pretending to be offended. “Why ever would you say that?”

“Cut the damn act, sweetheart,” he grumbled, eyes returning to the road as he continued driving. “You don’t think I know what you’re doin’ over there?”

“What?” you asked. “I'm just getting comfortable.”

His eyes flew down to your bare legs, the sunlight shining along them through the window and making them practically glisten in the late morning light. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you fought down a laugh at the way his lips pressed together. 

“You got your goddamn legs up like that,” he said, one hand releasing the wheel as he gestured at your bare thighs, “and you expect me to think you're not doin’ it on purpose?”

“Maybe you should just focus on the road, Frank,” you suggested, struggling to keep the smile from your lips. “Instead of me.”

Frank scowled in response, both hands gripping the steering wheel so tight you heard the faux leather groan against his palms. The sound sent a bit of a thrill through you as you watched the muscle jump in his cheek.

“I am focused on the goddamned road,” he grumbled. “Damn miracle I'm still in the lane with your fuckin’ legs up like that, though.”

“Really, Frank?” you asked, doing your best to sound surprised. “Are my legs really doing that much for you?”

You caught the way he glanced over at you again, his eyes trailing over your bare thighs before making their way to your calves. He let out a quiet scoff before he shook his head, one hand leaving the wheel to run across his mouth in agitation. 

“They're goddamn distracting,” he grumbled again. “And you're teasin’ me on purpose.”

“I'm not doing anything,” you replied. “I'm just sitting here, Frank.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered. “Absolute bullshit, sweetheart.”

“What? Can't handle a bit of skin, Frank?” you teased back, gradually losing the act. “I know you like my dresses but…you're that distracted?”

His head turned over his shoulder, eyeing you closely for a moment. With a grunt and a shake of his head, he focused back on the road once more.

“You even wearing anything under that?” he asked. 

You bit your lip, trying not to overdo the coyness in your tone when you answered. “No, it's more comfortable with nothing underneath,” you answered him. “I've told you that before, Frank.”

“Goddamn tease,” he muttered under his breath.

Shifting in the seat beneath the straps of your seatbelt, you laid your head back along the headrest and closed your eyes. As you sat there pretending to relax and rest your eyes, you could practically feel the way Frank’s were roaming over your body. 

Shimmying in the seat again, you readjusted your legs on the dashboard, crossing the opposite leg over the one that had been on top. The hem of your sundress slid further up your thighs as you moved. You didn't need to open your eyes to know the fabric had revealed even more bare skin, especially when beside you Frank let out a curse under his breath. One corner of your lip twitched briefly upwards at the sound before you heard Frank let out a loud, irritated groan. 

“Dammit, sweetheart!” he growled. “I saw that damn smirk.”

Your eyes flew open, your head rolling on the headrest towards Frank as you openly grinned. “Okay, yeah,” you admitted. “I'm doing it on purpose. But only because you're so fun to fluster and it's been so damn long since we've had sex. I couldn't resist.”

Frank glanced over at you, his eyes narrowing a fraction. “Do I need to turn this truck back around instead, sweetheart? Take you back home? I was trying to give you a nice goddamn day and here you are doing this.”

“Relax, Frank,” you said as you rested a hand along his thigh, grinning when the muscle tensed beneath your palm. “I'll thank you plenty for the brunch date and for putting up with me afterwards. I promise.”

Frank shot you another look, his jaw tightening before he focused back on driving. “Can bet your ass I'm gonna hold you to that later, sweetheart,” he grumbled.

Frank Castle One Shot Tag List: @heimtathurs @linamarr @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @leikelle @pinkratts @1988-fiend @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza @pone21 @millennial-birkin @harleycao @kezibear @justanerd1 @sadest-bookshelf @loves0phelia

[aventurineswife]

pookie please write some more Sunday x f!reader stuff :33

“Let this moment be forever ours”

Summary: Sunday and you share a quiet evening together in a cozy home. Sunday, usually burdened with his deep thoughts and responsibilities, finds comfort in your presence, and you gently encourage him to embrace relaxation and peace. Over dinner, your bond deepens, and Sunday reveals his fears about deserving happiness and peace. The evening culminates in a tender, affectionate moment, where Sunday allows himself to feel the love and warmth of the moment.

Tags: Sunday x Female!Reader (can be read as GN!Reader too), Established Relationship, Fluff, Romance, Intimacy, Emotional Healing, Comfort, Slow Burn, Domestic Moments.

A/N: I GOTCHU POOKIEE!! 🤭💖🫣 HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS!!

Sunday sat quietly on the shared house balcony, his hair catching softly in the twilight hues. The setting sun's golden light reflected in his eyes, the color of his navy pupils creating an ethereal contrast. His halo hung serenely behind his head, spinning gently as he absently tapped his fingers against the edge of his tea cup. Gone were his usual formal clothes; instead, he wore a loose, light sweater in soft lavender and dark blue lounge pants. He looked more at ease, though the quiet depth in his gaze remained.

Inside, you moved around the small but cozy kitchen, humming softly as you prepared dinner. The smell of spices and fresh herbs wafted through the air, mingling with the faint creaks of the old house and the distant sounds of the world outside. You couldn't help but glance out the window every so often, your heart fluttering at the sight of Sunday bathed in the golden light. There was something captivating about the way he sat there, so serene yet unknowingly pensive.

“Dinner’s almost ready!” you called, poking your head out of the doorway to catch his attention.

Sunday turned toward you, his eyes softening as a faint smile graced his lips. “Do you need a hand?” he asked, his voice a gentle melody that matched the evening's calm.

You shook your head, grinning. “I’ve got it under control. You just enjoy the sunset for a bit longer.”

He laughed and stood, moving slowly as the hem of his sweater brushed against his hips with each step. “Relaxation is something I’m still trying to learn,” he said, resting against the counter. His ear-wings fluttered delicately as he watched you stir the pot on the stove. “But I suppose I can give it a try—for you.”

“You should,” you joked, looking up at him. “You’re always so serious. Don’t you think you’ve earned a break?”

Sunday tilted his head slightly, his halo shimmering faintly under the warm light. “Perhaps. Even in times such as this, though, my mind won’t rest. It’s... hard to mute the noise.”

You paused, letting the wooden spoon clatter to the side as you turned to him. “What’s on your mind now?” you asked softly, wiping your hands on a towel.

He hesitated, his eyes darting up toward the window where stars were beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky. “You,” he said in a low, honest voice. “And how moments like these feel so fragile. Like a dream I’m afraid to wake from.”

Your breath caught at his honesty, and warmth bloomed in your chest. “You don’t have to worry about waking up,” you said, moving closer. “This is real, Sunday. We’re real.”

His eyes met yours, their depths shimmering with unspoken emotions. “I want to believe that,” he murmured. “But sometimes I wonder if I deserve this kind of peace.”

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his sleeve. “You do,” you said firmly, “and I will remind you every day, whether you want me to or not.”

A soft laugh escaped him, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a little. “You’re persistent,” he said, a note of fondness in his tone. “I admire that about you.”

“Good,” you replied with a playful grin, tugging him toward the small dining table. “Now sit down, and let me spoil you with food.”

Sunday allowed himself to be led, his wings fluttering slightly as if in quiet amusement. As you set the table and served the meal, he watched you with quiet reverence. The simple domesticity of the scene—the clinking of dishes, the soft glow of the pendant lamp, and the warmth of your laughter—filled a space in his heart he hadn’t realized was so empty.

As you both sat down to eat, Sunday found himself smiling more freely. The food was delicious, but it was the company that nourished him more. You talked of little things: the peculiarities of the house, plans for tomorrow, and he listened intently, tempering his usual melancholy with the lightness of the moment.

Later, as you were standing together at the sink washing and drying dishes, he caught your wrist gently, stopping you mid-motion. “Thank you,” he said, his voice soft but full of emotion. “For this. For being here.”

You turned to him, your eyes scanning his face. “Always,” you said, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. His halo flickered faintly, its golden light reflecting the warmth in his expression.

As the sun dipped toward dusk and you lay across the couch, Sunday tucked himself into the contours of your body. His wings curved over the sides to create a tight, delicate embrace, sheltering you within the world of the other side.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Sunday let himself relax. It was a fragile but undeniable truth that he found in your arms, amidst the soft glow of the house and the faint whispers of the night—that this peace, this love—it was his to hold on to.

[covenofthearticulate]

𝕷𝖔𝖚𝖎𝖘/𝕷𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙 [AO3]

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Home Court Advantage | 6.6K | Rated: General

It's Valentine's Day and both Louis and Daniel are without their partners. With nothing better to do, Daniel drags Louis to a sports bar for their very first "bro date."

𝕷𝖔𝖚𝖎𝖘/𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕿𝖚𝖒𝖇𝖑𝖗 𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖘

New Eyes | 900 | Rated: General

Daniel can see so much better with his vampire sight, and notices things about Louis he never did before.

Lost & Found | 400 | Rated: General

Why in the hell is Daniel wearing Louis' t-shirt?

Old Times' Sake | 600 | Rated: General

Louis has a hard time adjusting to his new senses after inhereting Lestat's blood. Daniel suggests a solution.

𝕷𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙/𝕬𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖉 [AO3]

By Fangs Alone | 10.9K | Rated: Explicit

In a relentless quest to understand Lestat, Armand gets the Brat Prince in a dentist's chair and explores all the marvels that lurk within a vampire's mouth.

[airybcby]

hi! may i request shidou ryusei with the 🍓 and🍭 <33

ofc!

a shidou ryusei strawberry lollipop :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° what am i to do ?

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — shidou ryusei x gn! reader, gn! reader, reader has strong feelings for shidou, set in high school, unrequited love :)

♡ synopsis — shidou ryusei was like a hurricane of chaos, and you weren't sure your feelings would survive the hit.

You should’ve known something was up when Shidou Ryusei's name appeared next to yours on the list of marriage simulation partners.

The universe had a cruel sense of humor, pairing you with the one person you’d spent the past few years trying not to fall for.

But it was Shidou—a human hurricane, all sharp smiles and chaotic energy. You’d been swept up in his orbit long before this simulation ever began, even though you knew better.

For someone like him, love wasn’t a slow burn. It was an explosion. And you were terrified of being caught in the aftermath.

The first day in the shared apartment was like stepping into a storm.

“Yo, partner,” Shidou drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe with a cocky grin. “You ready to play house, or what?”

You rolled your eyes, dragging your suitcase inside. “It’s only for a week, Shidou. Try not to get too comfortable.”

“Oh, I’m plenty comfortable already,” he shot back, tossing his duffel bag onto the couch. “The real question is—are you ready for this?”

He gestured vaguely between the two of you, a wicked glint in his eye.

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

Living with Shidou was...an experience.

He had no concept of personal space, always lounging too close or draping an arm around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Relax,” he’d say whenever you stiffened under his touch. “You act like I bite or something.”

You knew better than to entertain him with a response.

But it wasn’t just the teasing.

It was the quiet moments, too—the rare glimpses of vulnerability that he never let anyone else see.

Like when he’d stay up late after dinner, staring at the city lights through the window, lost in thought. Or when he’d talk about his dream of being the best striker in the world, his voice softer than usual.

Those moments were what made it so hard to keep your feelings in check.

One evening, the two of you were tasked with planning a mock anniversary dinner for the simulation.

Shidou, naturally, insisted on making it “interesting.”

“C’mon,” he said, dragging you into the kitchen. “Let’s cook something fancy. How hard can it be?”

As it turned out, it was very hard.

An hour later, the kitchen was a disaster zone, and Shidou was laughing so hard he could barely stand.

“Okay, okay,” he said between gasps. “So maybe cooking isn’t my thing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, too, despite the mess.

In moments like this, it was easy to forget that this wasn’t real—that none of this meant anything to him.

As the weeks went on, you found yourself getting more and more tangled in Shidou’s web.

Every playful remark, every fleeting touch—it all felt like something more than it was.

And you hated yourself for it.

Because no matter how much you wanted to believe otherwise, you knew that Shidou wasn’t capable of the kind of love you were looking for.

The breaking point came during one of the program’s mandatory relationship check-ins.

The counselor asked the two of you to describe what you’d learned about each other during the simulation.

You hesitated, unsure of what to say.

But Shidou, as always, didn’t hold back.

“I’ve learned that you’re way too serious,” he said with a grin. “But that’s okay. Someone’s gotta keep me in check, right?”

The room erupted in laughter, and you forced a smile, playing along.

But deep down, his words felt like a slap in the face.

Because while you were falling for him, he was just playing a role.

On the final night of the simulation, the two of you sat on the couch, flipping through the stack of photos from your tasks.

“Not bad,” Shidou said, holding up a picture of the two of you from the anniversary dinner. “We almost look like a real couple.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, your chest tightening.

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Hey. What’s with the long face? You’re not actually gonna miss me, are you?”

You forced a laugh, brushing it off. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But the truth was, you didn’t know how to let him go.

As you packed up the next morning, Shidou leaned casually against the doorway, watching you.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice unusually soft, “you’re not half bad at this whole ‘marriage’ thing.”

You looked up at him, your heart aching. “Thanks, I guess.”

For a moment, it felt like he was going to say something else—something important.

But then he smirked, breaking the tension. “Don’t miss me too much, okay? I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Weeks later, you saw him on TV, scoring the winning goal for his team.

He grinned into the camera, all sharp edges and uncontainable energy, and you couldn’t help but smile, too.

Because even though he’d never been yours, a part of you would always belong to him.

And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.

he is the SILLIEST BILLY!!

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[rhenuvee]

The Secret Menu [Diluc x reader]

Summary: Diluc's love for you is overflowing, so he wants to find a way to show you... [established relationship]

A/N: Happy new year everyone! Manifesting positive vibes and good health for you all! Sorry for the inactivity again, I am trying to post and interact more but clearly it's difficult aaa

Warnings: Old draft... just trying to get rid of it so sorry if this is cringe and rushed

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

"...What's your favourite drink?"

Diluc asks this one evening you decide to accompany him at the Angel's Share. You're in a safe spot, closest to him of course. He was thinking about something for quite a while- something to surprise you with.

"My favourite drink..?"

You didn't think anything of the question, though you were curious when you saw Diluc's expression- deep in thought, yet spaced out. You give it some thought and he listens attentively as you talk about the drinks you like: You ramble about the sweet fruit juice which was your first drink Diluc gave you at the Angel's Share, the milky drink you had that quenched your thirst on hot days, a flowery drink you had in Liyue that soothed your stomach...

A week passed, and you felt like Diluc was busying himself more. You decided to visit him again at his work, but surprisingly he approached you with a task.

"Could you try these for me?" He places four small glasses in front of you, with the same coloured liquid in them.

"Oh! Is this going to be on the menu?" You ask while examining the liquid curiously before trying them.

"S-Sort of." He replies. He places a glass of water to reset your tastes after each one, as well as a tissue just in case. How sweet, you think, smiling at the thought of his care for you. However, you don't expect even more sweetness when you try each one, the subtle differences on your tongue.

"Mm, they're all really good 'Luc~" He relishes in your delighted expression, eyes closed and smiling for the taste of the drink he made. But just this once there's something else he's anticipating. He waits patiently for your comments as you think of what to say. "Three has a thicker texture, while two has more sweetness from the fruit you added. I'm not sure which one patrons would like more, though..."

"Which one do you like, my love?" Diluc smiles at how sweet yet honest you were with your feedback. But your opinion is what he needs.

"Me?" You ask. And suddenly you feel a hint of something different in the way the asks you this with softness. The way he looked at you so lovingly- well he always does, but it felt like the same look he gave you when he held you close at night, soothing you before finally falling asleep. Or when he arrived with flowers for you when you go on dates. "I like this one the best, but maybe with a bit more of the fruity flavour."

Diluc only quietly nods and immediately gets started on the change you suggested. It is from this response that you wonder what's got him distracted- or rather what he's puzzled about. You've come to know that this is the face he makes when he is thinking hard about something.

"Why do you ask...?" You subtly ask, almost as a whisper. You didn't want to intrude in case this was a secret. You so soft that you weren't sure if he heard you and if you should repeat it. But Diluc always hears your voice. He turns to you, and gives the new and improved drink without saying a word. You're too occupied with the anticipation of the new taste, so you don't notice the blush slowly rising on his cheeks and his furiously beating heart. You take a sip and your eyes widen.

"It's perfect." You blink with a smile, giving him the positive note that he's made it the best.

"It's for you." He says softly, looking at you dearly. He relishes in the moment that your mouth subtly hangs in an O-shape, expressing your surprise.

Yes, your favourite drink. He wanted to make something for you. However, he couldn't paint pictures as good as his father did. Though he can cook, he doesn't think he'll master dishes as well as Adelinde and the other maids. And Diluc would absolutely kill for the ability to make you a piece of jewelry, but his hands are too coarse, he thinks. Not delicate enough to make you something of quality- something perfect for you. He wants to make something from his own hand- that showed his love. And so...

"You made a drink for me?" You repeat in a question, starting to feel emotional. Your hands instantly feel the need to pull your lover closer, and he notices as he complies with your movement, leaning toward you and letting you hook your arms around his neck.

Diluc gives a soft but slow nod, but it's all that's needed to convey his confirmation of love. You share a quick kiss, letting your lips submit to the rhythm he guides you with. His large hand comes over to smooth against the skin of your cheek, then grazes behind your ear. You both pull back, relishing in the short and sweet moment, unable to stop the smiles on your faces.

Though you've been together for a while, you always appreciate his thoughtful gestures and how he reaffirms his love for you more and more. You love the drink Diluc made for you, but most of all, you love him.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

[alsmediadissection]

˗ˏˋ glinda's relationship with Fiyero (comphet or genuine?) analysis ´ˎ˗

!! i want to preface this by saying i'm not a professional critic, and this is not a 100% guide to anything either. do not take anything i type online to absolute heart, this is simply my personal interpretation of this piece of media !! (i also want to mention that i did not read the Wicked novel/series by Gregory Maguire)

! CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR ACT 2 IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE WHOLE MUSICAL !

In Wicked, the romantic relationship between Glinda and Fiyero serves as a key element of Glinda’s character arc and offers rich ground for analysis. Examining their relationship through the lens of compulsory heterosexuality (comphet) and genuine affection reveals the layers of complexity in Glinda’s motivations and emotional growth. By delving into the nuances of their interactions and the broader context of Glinda’s character, we can explore whether her feelings for Fiyero stem from societal expectations or an authentic connection.

To begin, we can just acknowledge Glinda's compulsory heterosexuality (comphet) and her pursuit of perfection. Glinda’s initial attraction to Fiyero can be interpreted as a product of compulsory heterosexuality, a concept that describes how societal norms compel individuals—particularly women—to engage in heterosexual relationships as a marker of success and normalcy.

Societal Expectations:

As a young woman obsessed with popularity and appearances, Glinda may view a relationship with Fiyero as a way to solidify her status. Fiyero, as a charming and socially desirable figure, fits perfectly into the image Glinda wants to project.

Her early interactions with Fiyero, marked by superficiality and performative flirtation, suggest that her interest in him is driven more by how he enhances her social standing than by genuine emotional connection.

Internalized Heteronormativity:

Glinda’s world is steeped in traditional gender roles and heteronormative ideals (and we can presume this bc of the literal design of her character). Her pursuit of Fiyero may reflect an unconscious adherence to these norms, where romantic and marital success are viewed as the ultimate validation of a woman’s worth.

Though Fiyero and Glinda have moments of genuine connection, it doesn't even compare to the obvious contrasting connection that Fiyero (AND GLINDA) have with Elphaba. Fiyero’s eventual romantic turn toward Elphaba highlights a key distinction in his relationships with Glinda and Elphaba, which also informs an analysis of Glinda’s feelings for him. Fiyero’s relationship with Elphaba is rooted in mutual understanding and shared ideals. His love for her grows as he recognizes her courage, intelligence, and integrity. This depth stands in stark contrast to his earlier, more superficial connection with Glinda. Glinda’s response to Fiyero’s love for Elphaba is nuanced. While she is hurt, she ultimately accepts his choice without bitterness, reflecting her growth and the possibility that her love for him may have been more idealized than deeply felt.

Oh and the complexity of Glinda grows with her queer subtext (more comphet). If we read Glinda as a queer or lesbian woman, her relationship with Fiyero gains additional layers of complexity. Glinda’s deep connection with Elphaba, marked by moments of intense affection and admiration, contrasts sharply with her more performative relationship with Fiyero. This contrast could suggest that her true emotional fulfillment lies in her bond with Elphaba rather than in traditional heterosexual relationships. In a heteronormative society like Oz, pursuing a relationship with Fiyero allows Glinda to conform to societal expectations while suppressing any feelings that deviate from these norms.

Not to even mention the beautifully tragic undertones of Glinda's choices. Whether Glinda’s feelings for Fiyero are rooted in comphet or genuine affection, their relationship ultimately reflects the constraints placed on her by societal norms and her own insecurities. Glinda’s decision to let go of Fiyero and support Elphaba reflects her growth and her recognition of the limitations of her relationship with him. She prioritizes her friendships and her sense of justice over her personal desires. By the end of the musical, Glinda stands alone, having relinquished both Fiyero and Elphaba. Her solitude underscores the sacrifices she makes in her journey toward self-awareness and leadership, suggesting that her growth comes at the cost of personal fulfillment.

This literally means that Glinda gave up Fiyero for her bestfriend. SHE CARED MORE ABOUT THE HAPPINESS OF HER "BESTFRIEND" THAN HER LITERAL BOYFRIEND. like cmon dont play with me.

Glinda’s relationship with Fiyero straddles the line between comphet and genuine affection, shaped by societal pressures, personal insecurities, and moments of authentic connection. Whether viewed as a performative pursuit of societal ideals or a genuine (if imperfect) bond, her relationship with Fiyero ultimately serves as a catalyst for her growth. By examining Glinda’s feelings for Fiyero alongside her deeper connection to Elphaba, we gain a richer understanding of her complexities as a character navigating the expectations and constraints of her world.

[eldhuug]

if I stopped making art, nothing would change

Maybe I would find other ways to fill my time, maybe I'd do something more productive, or I'd find a new passion that made me proud of myself in a way making art isn't managing

I often ask myself, why do you draw? And the answer is because I want to, I feel compelled to try to make something, I have an idea I need to express

Im also very aware my skill level, technical abilities and consistency in production is nothing special. And no, it doesn't have to be good for art to matter, art can be impactful and significant in many, many ways that all feel beyond my capabilities

There are artists I dearly loved who stopped making art, and I dont know why they made that decision. Maybe it got made for them, or they moved on and my life was changed by it as I mourn their absence and wish them well when i revisit their work

If I stopped making art, maybe I could leave the deep rooted pain behind, the inadequacy and the scolding for drawing the wrong type of card for my hospitalized grandmother. Maybe I would move on from the humiliation of sharing work I made to no response . Maybe I'd be free from the stress and sadness that I don't make anything worth gifting yo someone else

I drew my first birthday card for a family member last year, after sitting in the silent rejection by my mother for years. I made it for my sister in law, who printed it out and hung it on her office spot. When she showed me I felt nauseous with anxiety and confusion, and I still can't understand her response

I still feel a mix of anxiety and nausea about sharing my work, and drawing anything for my friends still feel like I'm somehow insulting them by being so fucking shit at it

Im not going to stop drawing, and I don't know how to tackle the complex and evaluating vortex of my complete lack of confidence in myself. But I'm going to try, because I think the world is best when people make their art and share it and that includes even me

[callmeizukunotdeku]

I love the idea of parentified Tim Drake.

Bruce loses Jason and isn't ready for another son. Tim sees this, he acknowledges this, and he's okay with it. He's never really been a son to his own parents so he wouldn't expect the neighbor to start taking care of him.

When Tim's parents come home, they're not mean or anything, they just don't baby him. They treat him as an equal--as someone who knows what he's doing--and that's fine, because he does.

He's been taking care of himself for as long as he could remember, so when people try to treat him like a child, it angers him more than anything. The way that they assume just because he's young he can't take care of himself.

Tim's been to galas before, though. He's talked with Bruce and the man never treated him like he was incompetent. Tim's parents would ask Tim questions about the company so that he could recite them to Bruce. It was a song and dance he was well versed in, but he didn't really mind, not when Bruce looked at him with such a fondness in his eyes, always saying, "That's really interesting. You know a lot about your parents' company. Did it take you a while to memorize it?"

And he'd shake his head and say, "No," because that was the correct response, even if it was wrong.

Even if he had flashcards about Drake industries and kept up to date with perception of the company and the stock value and who the shareholders were and what they wanted and what they were willing to do to get that.

It wasn't one bout of work. It wasn't a single night of studying to make sure he passed the test, but a lifetime memorizing information and then rememorizing it when it changed.

So when Jason died and Bruce started getting bad, Tim knew what to do.

He was used to long term projects where it would be years before he actually got to see any result. He was used to seeing adults as people who he was responsible for, though he had to admit that the responsibility had never been that big before.

When Tim showed up at Bruce's doorstep, he was young, just like both of Bruce's other sons, but his eyes lacked that sort of naïveté and childlike wonder that should have accompanied the baby fat which persisted on his cheeks.

That's what made Alfred pause at the door.

There was a kid. A black haired, blue eyed kid. He was young, like both of Bruce's sons. His lack of naïveté was something he shared with both children, only Dick's had been a fresh sort of loss, one he was still mourning, and Jason's naïveté was something long-forgotten and left to rot. It was a feeling you smelt when you left the windows closed for too long.

Still there, still somewhere, but not quite right and never able to be found, only stumbled upon in rare moments of something that could almost be called joy.

Tim's naïveté is something he left at home. He keeps it on a shelf in his bedroom, something to look at when the going gets rough, but something too fragile to be held.

Maybe that's why Alfred lets him in.

That day, Tim meets Bruce--not Brucie or Batman, just Bruce.

He meets a man who's hair's grown long, but not long enough for it to have been intentional. There's grease in his hair and bags under his eyes and you can tell that he's been biting his nails.

He's clean shaven, because that's what people can see when he wears the cowl.

Tim takes a deep breath before walking into the room.

Bruce doesn't move, but Tim doesn't doubt that the man notices him.

The room smells like alcohol--a smell he recognizes from when his own father is home, though he can't say he's ever remembered it smelling so concentrated.

"Hello," he says, when he's right in front of Bruce, "My name is Tim, and I'm here to help."

Bruce doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to.

Tim talks to him, slowly distracting the man as he brings him to the bathroom, first trying to put a toothbrush in his hand and then, when that doesn't work, brushing the man's teeth himself.

Tim draws a bath for him and grabs him a new pair of clothes, and tells him to take his bath, only leaving the room when Bruce finally stands up and starts undressing.

Tim takes care of the sheets, puts new ones on the bed, and goes to the kitchen, to find Alfred already making food.

The butler asks him if he's staying to eat but Tim just insists that he's not hungry and brings the food up to Bruce.

He knocks on the bathroom door, and when Bruce doesn't respond, he opens it.

Bruce is sitting in the bath, knees to his chest, crying, but not otherwise moving.

So Tim rolls up his sleeves and washes Bruce's hair, then keeps him company as Bruce washes himself.

Bruce finds it easier to get things done when there's someone else in the room--talking to him, giving him something else to think about.

Tim talks as he gets Bruce out of the bath and hand him a towel. He talks as Bruce dries himself off and gets dressed. He talks as Bruce eats the lunch that Alfred made him and he talks until he gets Bruce back to bed.

He leaves, voice hoarse from talking so much after living in an empty home.

He comes back the next day and does it all again.

Alfred doesn't know what he should do. He knows, of course, that Tim is young and shouldn't be taking care of someone at that age.

He also knows that Bruce is in no state to take care of himself and all of Alfred's attempts have been in vain.

Tim's talking was what got Bruce to eat his first actual meal in a week--not just popcorn and protein bars. Tim's presence is what got Bruce to bed.

Tim was what was making things better, so while Alfred knew he should put a stop to it, he couldn't quite make himself do so.

Instead, he started doing little things.

He invited Tim to stay for meals.

Invited Tim to stay the night.

It took a while, but eventually, Tim started living in the manor.

One month, there's only ghosts in the house, the next, three beating hearts.

One month, Bruce can only think of his son, the next, he's calling Tim his dad.

One day, Bruce crosses the line as Batman, and the next day, he has a Robin.

You know how things go from there, some things are lost, others are gained. Some things stay the same, others do nothing but change.

Bruce and Tim get better, but Bruce still thinks of Tim as his dad.

No one really pays it much heed, though. That's just how they are--nothing really to note.

It's Dick, though, who starts noticing something's off, because Tim never sleeps.

When Dick was first adopted, he had nightmares.

He'd remember what it was like to watch someone fall. He did not watch it from the ground, but from the balcony, holding onto a trapeze, moments away from completing his own jump.

It took him months to finally come to Bruce, tell him about his nightmares.

Though he was never told the details, he knew it was the same for Jason. He pushed Bruce away, insisted that he'd be fine on his own, but eventually started letting him in.

He never asked, but assumed it was the same for Tim. When Tim couldn't sleep, when he had nightmares, when he couldn't stand to sleep in an empty bed, he'd go to Bruce like the rest of them did.

It was a reasonable thing to assume, and it was a belief he only questioned when he got up in the middle of the night to get water.

That same night, Bruce had a nightmare. Bruce knocked on Tim's door. Bruce slept in Tim's bed.

Tim ran his hands through Bruce's hair, promising that everything would be okay until Bruce fell asleep.

Now that he knew to look for it, Dick started noticing even more. The way Tim knew Bruce's favorite food and the way Tim took care of the man's company so that Bruce had the freedom to do what he wanted. The way Bruce turned to Tim when he had a problem or wanted to be told he did something well.

It was wrong.

It was wrong and Dick was trapped because he hadn't noticed it earlier. Why didn't he notice it earlier?

Tim came to him first, asked him to become Robin again. Dick knew about Tim from the start. Dick was there for the entirety of his stay as Robin.

He was there.

So why didn't he noticed?

Jason sees him panicking on patrol and Dick just breaks.

He breaks down in his brother's arms--arms he can feel tightening around him as he tells him everything.

They talk about it a lot after that. Jason starts noticing things too.

They bring in Babs and start making a file--compiling evidence because there's always the urge to just ignore it. To acknowledge that Bruce is doing better than ever.

But that requires them to forget about Tim.

To let the boy take care of Bruce and not live his own life.

Because, now that they're looking, they can see how lonely it is.

How he doesn't have any school friends--he had to drop out to take over WE.

How he's grown apart from Young Justice--always leaving when Bruce is in trouble or needs someone to talk to, not able to bear the idea of what Bruce might do if left alone.

Because Tim knows he'll break.

Bruce needs someone to take care of him, and Tim exists to fulfill the needs of others, regardless of how much it takes from him.

So Tim goes and helps his son. He never talks about how tired he is. He has sleeping pills to fix that, and maybe he can't take them because what if Bruce has a nightmare and then he can't wake up Tim--it's unimaginable.

Dick and Jason notice, though, and they try to bring it up with him, but they're not sure how.

Not when Tim's gut reaction is just to start taking care of them, too. Easing their worries, telling them that everything's okay.

They want so bad to insist that it's not okay, that this is going to ruin Tim and he can't spend his whole life like this.

But they want even more to be held. To be granted that unconditional love and care that comes with being Tim's child.

So they try to say something--anything.

But then, Tim smiles. He opens his arms to them and asks about their days.

And they they try to tell him that not everything's okay, but Tim is smiling, and they try, but they can't say a thing.